#and they will be in love in season two as well

[shtrawburrymilk]

Ooh im about to drop a HOT take here sorry in advance. People who are complaining that pregnancy and motherhood are being explored as The Woman's emotional journey (ignoring Mark's role & his grief as well!) are Pissing me off tbh. One of the hardest things in the world is experiencing a miscarriage and the fact people are 'uncomfy' with it and going well why can't it be something else, why does she have to want kids.. Shut up, it doesn't get to be something else & this was already set up SEASON 1 when Mark mentioned it on the date lmao. This is something a ton of people experience , this deep desire to have a family, and the physical literal inability for your body to hold onto a life is soul crushing for many. The fact Gemma wanted to keep trying and Lumon actively took advantage of THAT hope and her desire, the fact I'm certain they lied to her & told her they could fix it... Gemma apologizing to Mark in the clinic and him making that questioning face and shaking his head.. the fact that the desire, born of Mark & Gemma's love for one another, to have children and a family, is what (*I believe) led Lumon to discover these two, what ultimately allowed them to take advantage of Gemma (and by extension Mark)... the innocence of a new life on the severed floor being a direct parallel to childhood the severance procedure being so similar to birth waking up on the table with that umbilical cord looking speaker.. already im recontextualizing the way Mark sat by the lake after his sister gave birth and just looked out over the water. severance has always been about twisted families, childhood, adulthood, sex, pregnancy, reproduction, innocence, and loss thereof.. get over yourselves the show is supposed to be uncomfortable to explore these ideas it's a fucking dystopia sci-fi

[teambyler]

Will's suffering and search for happiness (not Milkvan) are what what the show has built up from the beginning and have to resolve in Season 5

It would oversell it to say "Will has been the center of the story all along." I'd say, yes, in s1 his kidnapping instigated everything, and in s2 he was a focus but probably on equal terms with El. And we all know in s3 and s4 he was a minor character in the grand scheme of things.

No, that's not the point: it's that Will has been the emotional core of the story from the beginning. He was the one the show made to suffer in ways that hit us in the gut, that trigger our own childhood fears and our instinct to protect.

A child who's kidnapped and alone and dies (s1)...

A child who's possessed and tortured (s2)...

A teenager distraught at growing up his childhood and his friends (s3)...

A teenager who thinks "he'll never find love" (s4)...

WILL is the one character that viewers most want to wish the best for. This is not to discount other characters and their arcs. Max's trauma is definitely the most intense and focused-on in s4. El dealing with her trauma has had more screen time. But El has superpowers, and we're already at least midway through her journey of finding empowerment. Max went through major breakthroughs in her own arc. But Will has been "held back" and simply made to suffer through the first 4 seasons.

This means that Will's pain and joy have to be the emotional focus of season 5. There's kind of no other writing reason for his journey to have been portrayed this way. The sources of his trauma - antigay bullying from his dad and the people of Hawkins, and his victimization by the Upside Down - have yet to be processed and dealt with by him, whereas El and Max have gone through much of their journeys.

Milkvans like to say that Mike and El's relationship "has been built up for four seasons." Actually, what has been built up more, from the VERY START of the show when Will was KIDNAPPED, and what has gradually and methodically been built up through the seasons, has been Will's victimization and his right to be happy.

Will being the emotional center of s5 was confirmed by what the Duffers told Variety:

This quote strongly suggests that Will finds a way to be a hero. In s1 and s2 he was a passive victim, as Vecna's target. s3 and s4 were about him learning to internally cope with real-life horrors. The symmetry of Will being targeted again by his tormentors but somehow taking control in s5, (perhaps through his qualities of selflessness and love that he's been taught to hate about himself), is just soooo natural. In a show that sides with the freaks and the outcasts, a suffering, traumatized gay boy finding power would be the ultimate way to express the show's mission statement. We may very well see "Hawkins' ultimate outcast be its hero."

And Byler fans have every reason to assume that Will's potential relationship with Mike is central to this! There are TWO Chekhov's Guns -- the Painting Lie, and Will coming out to Mike -- that have to fire!

The series has built up to this from the beginning: Season 5 has to be about Will's pain and finding love.

-teambyler

[burrowdarling]

The Offline Series 001

Summary: The introduction to The Offline Series, covering the last day of the regular season and the beginning of the postseason.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: This series will have mentions of adult content throughout so MDNI

Note: Hi everyone and welcome to The Offline Series! It's taken some time and rewriting, but the first part is finally here. I have plans to do specific events like the Pro Bowl Games as well as other ideas as connected standalones. I'm excited to create this small for these two and I hope you'll come along for the ride! Asks about these two are always welcome, I'd love to develop a world for them.

Word Count: 5.6k (my longest fic yet!)

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux @lilfreakjez @jburrgf Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

The past few days have felt a bit tense in the house with the season ending the way it had. Of course, you had wished things had gone differently, but it only made you more hopeful for the next season to come. Things were very touch and go when it came to Joe’s mood. Which was to be expected. You were so proud of him and the way he was able to lead the team to a winning record by the end of the season. You knew Joe was beating himself up about it despite the records he was breaking and the path he was paving in the NFL as a whole. You knew he was MVP material and it gutted you that he wasn’t in the conversation with the numbers he was putting up despite the final scores of each game.

He was processing the way he always would, by himself in his own way. He was going to the gym, meeting with who he needed to, throwing himself into everything else but rest. Arguably that also meant it was most things except time with you. You hadn’t seen too much of him recently, but you could feel his lower energy in the house even when he wasn’t around. Things felt colder and you had to admit you were starting to get a bit lonely. You thought back to that Sunday when the big shift in him happened while you went around the house and tidied, not like there was much when one of your stress relievers was cleaning.

**Flashback to Sunday**

You had the 4:25 games all on at once, each game taking up their respective corners of the screen. You were hopeful that having more than the two games would provide some kind of distraction, but you knew his mind was elsewhere when he kept his vision darting between the two opposing corners of the screen. You wished you could read his mind, making sure to remain close enough if he needed you, but far enough that he was able to be with his own thoughts.

You knew that the other guys were glued in the same positions after talking with the other girls. There was a constant stream of messages in your group chat talking about how the guys were doing and sharing the experience with one another through the phone. By some miracle, you hoped the Jets and Broncos would pull this off. You had a deep gut feeling based on the Chiefs lineup that things weren’t going to go the way you needed them to. The most you could do was hold out hope and watch with cautious optimism. You found yourself copying Joe’s movements, unable to look away from the two most important games. The Jets were starting off strong and that lifted some weight, but the Broncos came out swinging so fast against the second stringers for the Chiefs. 

You couldn’t blame them, really. It was no other team's job to win or lose for someone else, but that didn’t make the game on the screen any less frustrating to witness. The amount of time the Chiefs quarterback was taking in the pocket from having no open players to pass to, it was no wonder he was getting sacked left and right. The score just kept getting higher and higher, the Bengals chances slipping away the more the Broncos scored. The Jets win wasn’t even necessary at this point, feeling worse knowing everything had gone to plan except this once game.

You kept glancing over at Joe, watching the light in his eyes fade with the passing time. You knew he was worried about the outcome as much as he tried to hide it. He wanted a chance in the playoffs, working his ass off to finish with the win streak they had, not to mention the records he was breaking for himself and on the team. If anything he turned colder, feeling the shift in him from where you were sitting on the couch. You made no move to touch him let alone speak to him when he got like this. You didn’t know which version of Joe you would get and you weren’t in the best mindset to find out.

By halftime, Joe had retreated to his office without a word and you let him. You couldn’t get yourself to turn the screen off, watching the abysmal scene in front of you at the Chiefs vs Broncos game. The amount of things that had to go the Bengals way, it felt like it was so far fetched. It really did come down to this one game. The score was so far gone, it was purely to see how far the Broncos would push it. 

Towards the end of the fourth quarter, you turned the game off and made your way to the kitchen to make something for dinner. You didn’t know if Joe would eat, but you had to at least try. You cooked his favorite, plating some for yourself and making him a plate. You walked cautiously up to his office, a warry feeling sitting in your chest as you got closer to the closed door. It was silent on the other side, able to hear a pin drop. You took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm your nerves before you faced what could be on the other side of the door.

You knocked gently on the door, hearing some grumbling on the other side before the door was pulled open. You were met with a blank faced Joe, his hair roughed up from his fingers tangling in it. You knew better than to mention a word about the game. Joe was beating himself up more than you could even imagine. You held his gaze, trying your best to keep things direct as you moved the plate in your hands towards him.

“I made you some dinner in case you were hungry. I’m gonna take a shower and get in bed to read for a bit. In case I fall asleep before you, I love you and I’m here if you need me,” you said and weren’t expecting any type of verbal response back.

He looked down at the meal you made him, watching as the slightly bit of tension dropped from his shoulders. His eyes moved back up to yours and the smallest ‘thank you’ slipped past his lips. You arched up on your tiptoes to reach his cheek, his frame always towering over you. He took the plate from your hands and gave you a nod before turning to close the door. You let him shut himself inside, knowing that all you could do at this point was wait for him to come around. You wouldn’t stop showing him small acts of kindness and support, knowing he was still appreciative even if he didn’t show it. You would always be there to take care of him and you weren’t stopping now.

**End of flashback**

You had your current read perched in your lap, trying your best to keep your mind occupied on something that wasn’t the thick feeling in the air. You were doing anything you could to keep yourself busy-reading, cooking, cleaning, even leaving earlier for work, and getting yourself a coffee in the morning rather than making it at home. You knew Joe would open up when he was ready, but the meantime wasn't always the easiest to manage. You felt your phone buzz on the couch next to you, lifting it to see what the notification was. You saw that it was an Instagram post notification from Joe because of course, you have his notifications on. It was a rare occurrence when he would post anything so you had to be in the know. You clicked on the notification, having an inkling of what it could be, but the wind was still knocked out of your chest as you read his caption.

"Season to remember, sorry you won’t get to watch anymore. Year 5 in the books." 

You stared at your phone for a moment, processing the post he made. You felt your heart break for him, unsure of what could be going through his mind while he was upstairs. Swiping through the few photos he posted along with it. The first photo being of “the big three” as everyone has been calling them. The next two being of himself on the field and the last of him and Ted. You felt like you could sense the emotion through the phone screen.

He came down from his office a little while later, his hair ruffled from constantly running his fingers through it. You could imagine him sitting at his desk, looking for the right thing to say to his fans. The movement of gripping his locks through his fingers was a way of grounding himself when he felt overwhelmed. You noticed it as the season had gone on, tending to do it more often in press conferences when all he wanted was to be at home either alone in his office or with you. He went over to the fridge to grab something to drink, spinning off the cap and taking a huge swig as he walked over to where you were in the living room. You had on some mindless TV show in the background for noise, not paying it much attention.

He came to sit down next to you on the couch, slouching into the cushions with a deep sigh escaping past his lips that he must've been holding in. You shifted to sit up criss-crossed with a blanket draped over your lap. You patted the spot on your lap gently, signaling Joe to rest his head in your lap. He moved to you without a word, positioning his long limbs on the couch to settle his head in your lap with his legs draping over the edge of the armrest.

“Take this as a chance to just be offline for a while. You spent months holding so much of other people’s bullshit all season. You deserve to take the offseason as time for you,” you spoke softly as you started to gently touch his head and felt him lean into your hand. 

Joe let out a sigh of contentment as he settled into your touch. You knew it was something that made him feel safe and grounded. You ran your hands through his hair, giving him time to process your words and respond. A break was something Joe wasn’t the most familiar with, always needing to be on and moving all of the time.

“I know you’re right. It’s just hard to shut my mind off sometimes. It’s hard to feel like I could’ve done more, still can do more to prepare for next season. I don’t want to have the same rhetoric from everyone next season like I did this year.”

You felt your heart break for him. There was an ache in your chest at his admission, feeling a small tear drop against your exposed skin. You leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his temple, letting your lips linger there. 

“I know you worked your ass off Joey, you always do. You also earned yourself some time to unwind for a while, let your body rest. I’m excited to finally get to spend some uninterrupted quality time with you. Your mind and your body deserve to heal J, I’ll be here with you while you do. I already know you’re gonna come back stronger than ever.”

You tilted his chin up, turning his head towards you. You looked down and the gentle giant with glossy eyes in your lap. The thought brought a smile to your lips and a small laugh. You leaned over once more, placing a kiss to his pouting lips this time. You were about to sit back up, but Joe kept you in place. The kiss began to get more intense, feeling a small fire igniting within you at his tongue grazing across your lower lip. 

You were putty in his hands, body willing to do whatever it was that he wanted. Joe loved how reactive you were to his touch, no matter how small or innocent it was. 

A small moan escaped your lips, unsure of how you guys ended up in a full makeout after having such a deep moment. You finally pulled away, the angle becoming too much for you as you started to get a bit light headed. You weren’t sure if it was from having your head turned or the intoxicating pull that was Joe, figuring it had to be some kind of combination of the two. 

“Sorry hun, I couldn’t keep my head like that for much longer. I was only trying to make you feel better, not —” you were cut off from your apology with a much gentler kiss placed on your lips.

“I know that, this was one of those times I was at a loss for words to tell you how much I love you so I figured I would show you instead. I know I can get in my head a lot, I really do appreciate that you give me the space to think.”

“Of course, Joey. You know I’ll always be here whenever you need to talk. Me forcing you isn’t going to do either of us any good in the long run. You also know I’ll happily be a willing participant to your throes of affection. In that case you’re more than welcome to show me properly.”

Joe sat up and took your hand in his to guide you off the couch, moving so quickly towards the stairs.

“Don’t mind if I do, all you had to do was say the word.”

Joe was always amazing in bed, but there was something even deeper about the way he would make love to you. Everything felt ten times more intense than usual, his passion unmatched. You were left lying there breathless, the sheets haphazard over the bed with your body tucked snuggle into Joe's side. His hand gently grazes your side, slowly lulling you to sleep. Exhaustion almost overtook you before his voice broke through the silence that enveloped you.

“Thank you for everything that you do for me. I know I’m not the easiest to love, but I’m grateful for you everyday,” his words waking you from your sleepy state.

You turned around to face him, his arm falling between you as you did. You moved your hands up to cup his cheek, feeling him lean into your soft touch as you stroked the stubbled skin. You felt Joe release a breath he must’ve been holding in and let his eyes fall closed. It was the most relaxed you had seen him in days.

“Joey loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, doing this with you makes the highs and lows worth it all.”

You saw a quick tear slip past his defenses, quick to wipe it away hoping you didn’t see. It was too late for him though, you were too busy doting on him. His eyes looked up to meet yours and it was over for him. Joey tucked himself into your body as if you would make the pain he was feeling go away just from your touch. The more tears streamed down his cheeks onto your exposed skin, silent sobs racked his body and all you could do was hold him. Whispering sweet nothing in his ear while stroking his back with light scratches of your nails. Your heart split in two at the pain he must’ve been feeling, it being so hard for him to let you in.

You have no idea how long you two laid there, your gentle giant finding his solace in your smaller embrace. As his tears seemed to settle and his body relaxed, the tension finally dissipated his body for good from the emotional release. Joe sniffled as he pulled back from your neck. His baby blue eyes were red, his face flushed pink. You brought your hands up to wipe any stray tears from his face. Joe seemed to be closer to his normal self, something still holding him back.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, able to tell that there was something he wanted to bring up.

“I got an offer to attend the Australian Open and I’ve been thinking about it, it could be a different experience for me. I wasn’t necessarily gonna go, but after we talked I think I’m gonna tell them yes. I was hesitant because I was honestly still feeling so down on myself, but you’re right that I deserve to go out and enjoy the fun things like everyone else has been doing. People are gonna talk regardless so I might as well be happy while they do,” Joe said with a finality to his words and a returning sense of confidence you hadn’t seen for a bit.

“That’s awesome sweetheart, I totally think you should go. Get out of the cold in the land down under,” you joked back with him wishing you could escape the throes of the Cincinnati winter.

By the look on his face, you could tell he wanted to make some kind of oral joke but was holding himself back to preserve the moment the two of you were sharing. You felt him pull you in closer to his chest, his arms securing you in like a fortress from the outside world. You rested your head on his solid chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat bring you a feeling of comfort.

“They offered for you to join me of course, but I know you can't just take off of work that easily. I wish I could have you there with me, I really am sorry for being such a dick and icing you out,” Joe spoke as he peppered the top of your head with kisses 

“I would love to go with you, but I already finessed time to go to Orlando for the Pro Bowl Games with you, unfortunately. I’m excited for you to get that experience and can’t wait to hear all about it. I’ll be here when you get back, don’t worry,” you assured him.

“I’d hope so, don’t be surprised if I don’t let you out of my sight when I get home,” Joe warned in a teasing tone you knew all too well meant only one thing.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way lover boy,” you pushed back, giving him a kiss to his nose. “I’m starting to think I’ll have to make you a self-care plan to ensure you actually take a break for once.”

“Does this plan involve you in all sorts of positions for me,” Joe teased as he brought his hand to cup your bare breast, swiping his thumb over your peaked nipple.

You gasped at his touch, still feeling sensitive. You lightly smacked his hand away as you feigned offense. Your body’s reaction betrays you in that moment, feeling the heat begin to form in your center. You had to be the voice of reason for once, both of you needing some kind of sleep more than anything.

“Get your mind out of the gutter for once, I actually meant it seriously. If I need to take the time to make one for you I will,” you said and you meant it, “just because I work with kids doesn’t mean it can’t apply to you too.”

You worked in mental health, mainly with kids and adolescents. You were able to be a safe space for them to learn how to share, develop healthy coping skills, and work through anything that was going on with them. There were times that you could see where Joe would benefit from taking a different approach. He was such a big advocate for mental health, but he didn’t always give himself the same grace when he needed it.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll behave and take my time. I was honestly thinking of getting a massage tomorrow if you’d like to come with me. It could be a great way for us both to destress,” Joe suggested.

The idea did sound incredibly tempting, knowing you had your own knots and pent up tension stored in your body. You hadn’t gone for a massage in ages and Joe always got them as a form of restoring his body during the season. 

You rolled over, feeling Joe sniggle up behind you as he draped an arm over your waist, “you let me know when and where, you bet I’ll be there.”

Joe’s trip to Australia came and went in a flash, sticking true to his word and making sure he showed you just how much he missed you. Claiming he needed some way to ‘exhaust himself’ and get him to sleep from the massive time change he was combatting. He told you all of the stories from his time there that you hadn’t already heard over the phone while you two lay in bed. You weren’t exactly sure when you fell asleep, being lulled into slumber from the warmth and presence of your boyfriend.

That next morning, you woke up to Joe splayed out next to you. He looked so peaceful; with the thin white sheet draped across his lower half, chiseled chest on full display for you to admire. Both of you had forgotten to pull the shades over after yesterday’s activities, the morning sun casting a warm glow across his sun kissed skin. It felt like a crime to wake him, but you had massage therapists coming to the house. Joe wanted to keep things private and got a few people to come here that he’s worked with through the team during the season. You were grateful considering how tender each of your muscles felt from last night, skin heating at the thought.

The least you could do was wake him gently, shifting on the mattress so you were level with his stomach. You always admired Joe’s body and he damn well knew that. You never got the chance to do so this close and unrushed though. You took your time absentmindedly tracing patterns across his skin, lightly dragging your fingertips through the dips and curves of his muscles and hips. You dropped your lips to his warm skin, making a path of kisses up to his neck. You felt him stir about halfway through, glancing up to see a barely there smile on his lips.

You could tell he was trying to remain “asleep” to not interrupt your pursuit. You decided to have a little fun knowing he was awake. You dragged your lips up his chest, lightly sucking at the skin on the base of his neck. You felt his breath hitch underneath your lips feeling satisfied. You nipped at his ear causing a groan to come from Joe, unable to hold back his facade any longer.

You could tell he was trying to remain “asleep” so as to not interrupt your pursuit. You decided to have a little fun knowing he was awake. You dragged your lips up his chest, lightly sucking at the skin on the base of his neck. You felt his breath hitch underneath your lips feeling satisfied. You nipped at his ear causing a groan to come from Joe, unable to hold back his facade any longer.

He shifted quickly, tucking you under his body as his strong arms caged you into him. You giggled as he ducked his head and nipped at your neck, knowing it was where you were super ticklish. His attacks against you were ruthless, leaving you begging him through sputters of air and laughs to get him to cease fire.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, trying to regain control of your breathing. 

“I could say the same thing to you too, I’m not complaining if I get to wake up to your touch every morning,” Joe said as he ducked back down in an attempt to move things further.

You stuck your hand out as a barrier to stop him. You wouldn’t have nearly enough time with your massage appointments happening soon. You wanted to freshen up quickly to be ready for them when they got there. 

“We’re not gonna have any time right now, J. They’re gonna be here in,” you looked down at your bare wrist, a small laugh rumbling in Joe’s chest at your humor, “like 10 minutes.”

“I’ll bet you I only need three of those ten if you let me,” Joe tried to press, hoping to win you over with a morning orgasm to start your day.

You had to admit, it was definitely a tempting offer. Joe loved lazy morning sex with you, feeling the lack of time constraints and pressure. It was his favorite way to start his day when he could. There were also mornings where quickies would wake either of you up before you had places to be, connecting before your busy days. You contemplated the idea, Joe wiggling his eyebrows suggestively above you trying to entice you. You also would have the rest of the day with this being the only thing you had planned. You worked to flip yourselves to get you on top, Joe grinning thinking that he would be getting his way. You slipped off of him, throwing on some semblance of clothing and ran your fingers through your hair to tame it. 

Joe groaned feeling like you pulled a trick on him. Before he could protest you, the sound of the doorbell ringing sounded through the stillness of the house. A smile crossed your lips as you started to make your way out of the room, turning back once you reached the frame of the door. You left him alone in bed, sat up against the headboard frustrated from your absence. He looked lost, a pout formed on his lips and a prominent bulge obvious underneath the thin fabric of the sheet.

“You should probably take care of that before you come down, I don’t think your massage would appreciate it,” you said with a smirk as you disappeared down the hallway

“Oh you’re gonna get it later sweetheart,” Joe called after you, making you laugh at the promise.

You composed yourself before pulling the door open. You greeted them kindly, letting them in to get everything setup in the living room. The pair seemed lovely, telling you a bit about themselves while getting their things ready. They handed you a robe and requested you change into whatever made you feel the most comfortable. You left to change, tying the robe overtop of the bralette and sleep shorts you put on. You were exiting the bathroom when Joe made his way down the stairs in a pair of tight alo shorts. They were sitting high up on his thighs as if he had them pulled up, the glimpse at the skin making your mouth water. 

It was like he could read your mind, choosing those on purpose as a form of payback for leaving him alone to take care of himself. He dropped you a wink before passing you to say hello, taking the second to shake those thoughts from your mind for the time being. This was technically your fault, but you knew it would also make him more worked up later.

You both laid on your respective tables and let the two ladies get to work. You had never gotten a massage before, not thinking it was a necessity, but having a change of heart after the first few minutes. The lotion felt and smelled absolutely amazing, giving reprieve to your aching and neglected muscles. Your shoulders felt the tightest from how much sitting you had to do at work, constantly seated in different positions at your desk or on the floor if that’s what your clients preferred during their sessions. Sighs of content and groans of pain as she worked tumbled from your lips without a second thought. Joe was mostly silent, making you realize how often he did this and was used to it by now.

Knots you didn’t even know you had were being pressed and worked. You couldn't help the groans of relief that left your mouth, trying your best to taper the sounds. Turning to look over at Joe whose pupils were blown wide as his back was being worked on as well. You let your eyes trail down his frame, knowing exactly what was under the sheet covering his lower half. Your body was heating, feeling conflicting feelings of tension and relaxation as your masseau’s hands worked wonders at alleviating your deep seated stress. You turned your head to face away, knowing it would be for the best.

You made small talk the best you could, finding it hard to speak when certain tight areas were touched, cutting off whatever it was that you were saying. It made you wonder how Joe did this as often as he did, focusing on the temporary hurt being worth it in the end. After about 40ish minutes, they began to finish up and gave you both a few minutes to relax while they went and cleaned up their hands.

You sat up to stretch, reaching your arms above your head and appreciated the lack of pain when you did. You felt Joe’s eyes locked on your body sensing the heat in his gaze without meeting his eyes. He stood up off of his table, not worrying about wrapping his robe back around him. He came to where you were sitting, leaning into you with his hands pressing into the massage table on either side of your legs. His knuckles brushed against your exposed skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Joe leaned down more to meet your ear, bracing for what filth was about to come out of his mouth.

“You bet your sweet ass the minute they leave, I’m gonna have you screaming my name for so long your voice will be gone by dinner time,” he whispered, his voice husky and dripping with lust.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was only barely lunch time. You breath caught in your throat as Joe brought one of his hands up to cup your cheek, slipping down to lightly grip your throat. You swore you forgot how to breathe, getting so lost in the moment that the sound of running water scared you back into reality. Remembering you weren’t alone and could get caught with Joe hand around your throat at any moment made a new wave of pleasure wash over you.

You separated when you heard the footsteps begin to get closer. Heat crept up your cheeks at almost being caught in a not so innocent position, even if you were in your own home. You chatted for a few minutes while they packed everything up. You talked about tentative plans for another appointment soon, now that you knew what you were missing out on. You had barely walked them out the door before Joe was behind you in his robe. Your front was pressed against the cold material of the front door, eliciting a gasp from your parted lips. 

“Do you know how hard it was to just lay there knowing you were wearing so little beside me,” Joe said as he slipped your robe off your shoulders placing kisses to the exposed skin, “making all of those little noises of yours.”

Joe slipped the robe off the rest of your body, letting it fall to the floor. Turning you around to face him, keeping your proximity to one another so close it was hard for you to spin. He dropped to his knees before you, taking in the sight before you. He slipped off your shorts, growling at the sight before him.

You had forgone underwear, forgetting to sip some on after this morning and assuming the coverage of the shorts would be sufficient enough. In hindsight, it worked as easier access for a moment like this.

“Naughty girl, getting that entire massage while eye fucking me with this bare pussy,” Joe chastized into the flesh of your thighs, alternating between kissing and nipping at your skin.

“I was too preoccupied this morning, I guess I must’ve forgotten,” you spoke, half lying as you tried to keep your head on straight from his touch so close to where you wanted him the most.

“Likely story, you could’ve had this pussy wrapped around my cock this morning, but someone had to be a tease,” Joe said as he brought his hand down to your wet pussy.

Joe wasted no time in latching his mouth onto your center, feeling so close a release already from how strung up your body already was. He alternated between licking and sucking that your mind was spinning. You gripped your hands into his hair, tugging slightly to let him know how close to the edge you were.

Right as you were about to fall over it, Joe pulled back and stood to meet your lips in a rough kiss. You groaned in frustration at your lack of climax, irritated at how close yet so far you were from release. When Joe pulled back 

“What the hell J, I was so fucking close,” you whined, knowing you sounded like a brat.

“You’ll get there when I let you, if someone was nicer to me this morning then they wouldn’t be left hanging would they,” Joe said as he sauntered off towards the stairs, “I'm gonna hop in the shower. I want you on the bed and ready for me once I’m out and maybe I’ll let you cum if you behave.”

You were stunned in your spot for a moment. The time off seems to already be doing wonders for his mood, the downside being that he had time to be just as much of a tease as you were. You hustled up the stairs doing exactly what he asked. You were glad that your body was relaxed, not sure if Joe would be using that to his advantage. You could get used to disconnected Joe.

[ratatattouille]

not only do I hate what arcane season 2 did with its female characters, I REALLY HATE what it did with its black characters. ESPECIALLY ekko. I do not think it is a coincidence that ekko’s focused, revolutionary, independent, no-bullshit character being sacrificed on the altar of timebomb (by both fandom AND the show) is a coincidence. “but his scene in the alternate universe where jinx was alright helped him realize how much of a victim jinx was as well and that her problems weren’t really her at all but the evil hex gem which is now a motif for greed or something.” I know I’ve previously said that I love how the idea of jinx becoming a revolutionary symbol outside of her will or control, but other critics have pointed out how unjustified and unearned that is narratively (I mean any sense of government protocol or realism is thrown out the window in season 2), but ekko already realized jinx was also a victim of a horrible system on the bridge before she blew herself up in season 1. not only that, but the same way caitlyn takes more unjustified precedence in vi’s life than jinx, is the same way jinx takes more unjustified precedence in ekko’s life than the firelights. if anything, ekko’s nuanced relationship with jinx was butchered by that forced romance of “what could have been.” ekko, by this point, is not simply just afraid of jinx. he fucking hates her. she has killed so many of his loved ones. even ruined his life by messing up with the mission in the first place. vi was the only one who could’ve brought those two together (and even that would be a tall order) because both of them looked up to her, and she’s nowhere to be seen in either timelines where those two interact. why is jinx’s name the one on the paper he burns instead of (for example) heimerdinger’s? all one can do with this season is speculate. endless fucking speculation.

[honeylouwho]

all dolled up ; bruce wayne

synopsis: bruce likes to make you play dress up, even if it’s not something you’re accustomed to.

cw: nsfw (18+) / fingering (f receiving) / slight objectification (f receiving) / fem!reader / reader does not come from a billionaire background like bruce / finger licking afterward / mentions of alcohol / being bruce wayne’s doll / robert pattinson’s batman / not proofread word count: 1020 love note: i’ve been thinking about bruce a little too much recently. had to get it out of my system.

“I feel so silly,” you told Bruce Wayne with a semi-permanent frown etched on your face, brows creased in the middle. The dress was a gift— silk, hand designed, and imported from a different country. Hell, imported from another continent. The shoes were Prada, slightly uncomfortable, but ultimately gorgeous. Ruby earrings dangled on your lobes, the medium sized gemstone hanging off a slope of gold.

“You don’t look silly,” Bruce was eyeing you up and down, drinking in your appearance as if you were a dry Manhattan settled between his middle finger and ring finger. But you weren’t a glass of rye whiskey settled between his fingers— you were a girl just under his thumb, playing dress up to appease the billionaire in front of you.

At first, his billionaire status didn’t pull you in. Neither did his aloof tendencies or obvious disinterest in people as a whole. It was the first time you held a conversation with him, shying away from discussion that might signify you don’t come from the same world as him. But it was Bruce Wayne; billionaire, philanthropist, CEO of a multinational conglomerate. He could tell you weren’t from the world of champagne fluff, diamond crusted chandeliers, or seasonal orchestra tickets to the New York Ballet.

Which is precisely why Bruce liked you. You were serving hors d'oeuvres at a charity gala, dressed in all black when you had made your way to Mr. Wayne. It wasn’t the first time you had seen the introvert nestled into the bar of a gala you were working, but you hadn’t talked to him before. Maybe he chose to talk to you that time because of the shake of your hand when you offered him a smoked trout croquette, who really knows?

One smile from Bruce Wayne and you were putty in his hands, doing whatever he wanted you to do when he wanted you to do it. That’s all it took for you to become candy hanging off his arm.

“But I feel silly,” you mumbled, embarrassed by the display of wealth you were wearing. You knew it, though, this was Bruce’s world and you had to assimilate. Especially because he fucked you so well.

As polite as he seemed, he didn’t fuck you like a gentleman. It was crude, filthy, desperate when he buried himself inside of you, making you twitch underneath him. And you knew that later tonight, Bruce would peel the silk from your body and give you exactly what you wanted; a special treat.

Only, you wanted it now.

“Why are you pouting? Don’t I treat you well?” Bruce was leaning against one of the bars in his mansion, the one that separated the main kitchen from the living room. He had ice water in his hand, but he gently placed it on the marble countertop. Dunking his hand in the glass, he pulled out a few pieces of his. Slowly, he descended the two steps, his tailored suit fit perfectly against his body as he sauntered toward you.

“You do,” you couldn’t help the exasperated sigh, “this is all so much, though. The silk dress, the shoes, the jewels. It’s just not me.”

Bruce was standing in front of you in just a few strides, backing you up until you hit the couch with a soft thud. Then he was squatting in front of you, his fingers gently rubbing the skin of your right ankle as he pressed the cool ice to your skin, “on the contrary, I think it suits you well.”

You sucked in a sharp gasp, the ice connected with your skin as Bruce ran it up your bare leg under your dress. Once he had gotten the ice positioned between your thighs, his hand nestled between your legs, he split you open. 

Bruce’s pointer finger hooked on the plane of your panties, pushing them aside to shock your core with the cold cube. Nearly melted at this point, your hot skin working the ice to water, one finger slipped inside of your sex.

Head thrown back, eyes teary from just one finger he was offering up, you spread your legs as wide as the dress would let you.

“So obedient,” Bruce said, moving his finger in and out of you in a tantalizing motion. Gaze fixated on you, he watched your micro expressions as he played with you. His little doll, fucked out, and constantly desperate for his touch.

Breathing deeply, you looked down, watching the outline of his hands in between your dress. That might have been the sexiest part of it all, the fact that you couldn’t even see what he was doing under the silk, just knowing his hands were there.

“Gonna finish,” you mewled, shutting your eyes and clenching your fists. Trying to hold back the tears of pleasure, to not ruin your makeup, you sucked in your bottom lip and chewed on the skin as you back arched off the cushions. Back arching, nails colliding with the skin of your palm, you listened to Bruce’s words as he brought you to your climax.

“Better?” Bruce had asked, slipping his hand from your thighs and gently straightening out where he had bunched up your precious dress.

“Uh huh,” you sighed, eyes on the verge of fluttering closed, “feel so pretty now.”

Bruce chuckled, licking his middle finger clean before offering you a hand to help you off the couch. “We have to go. We’re already late.”

“Okay, let me just change my underwear.” Your hand hooked into Bruce’s, wiggling your body off the couch and back onto your feet (the shoes were still very uncomfortable but you wouldn’t complain, not when you knew the price tag of them).

“Wear them,” Bruce told you, a marvelous glint in his eyes, “they’ll be my snack later.”

Cheeks hot, you responded compliantly, “okay. I’ll wear them.”

“Now smile, darling,” Bruce told you, a twitch of a smirk popping through long enough for you to catch it, the finger that was inside of you not even three minutes ago pressed against your lips, “only one of us can brood.”

[sayusims]

Jinshi and Maomao relationship detail

At first, when watching The Apothecary Diaries, I didn't really want Jinshi and Maomao to be together. I mean, I wanted them to be, but since Jinshi was obviously so much more in love than Maomao, I did not think that it would seriously work out. However, I’ve changed my mind. As I haven’t actually read the light novels yet, some of the information I’m going to use is based on what others have said, and I can’t really confirm 100% if it is true, but since these are discussed somewhat in the community, I feel like they are.

My top reason for thinking they are good together is the fact that they pay extra attention to and look at each other more than others. In Jinshi’s case, he is known for being immensely pretty, but because this is the only thing people look at when it comes to him, it causes him to have an inferiority complex about all of the other skills that he does possess. It also does not help that he is surrounded by anomalies of people who have super strength or are insanely smart, so he feels hopelessly average in comparison. Because of this, when he met Maomao, he thought that she would be the same—someone captivated by his beauty who does not see the real him—but it was the complete opposite. His beauty does not hold worth to her. While she obviously finds him attractive and is probably still attracted to his physical body, his worth to her comes almost solely from his personality. The times in the anime that we see best that she is VERY slowly falling in love are times when she mentions him behaving differently or behaving more like himself instead of the persona he puts on daily. She does find Jinshi annoying a lot, but she likes it when he is more youthful and less eunuch-like.

When it comes to Maomao, I remember that in an episode of the anime, Maomao mentioned how she knows she is hard to read. While Jinshi cannot read her, he still tries. Jinshi never backs down or gets put off when he doesn’t understand her apparent logic; he mostly just trusts her and her judgment. He is incredibly patient with her and honestly does not try to rush things (it is KILLING ME). He is extremely worried about her well-being and making the choice that she wants, not what he wants. It is like when he dismissed her from her job in the first part of season 1. He dismissed her even though he had the power to obviously just not do it but also to just kind of make her work even if she thought it was miserable in the rear palace, because I fear that’s what at least half of the men back then would have done. But even though at this time he had a rabid crush on her and knew he was going to be miserable like he was with his toys when he was younger, he did it since he thought that was what she wanted. Another thing Jinshi notices a lot is her injuries. After, I assume, the third time of someone noticing someone else constantly getting hurt but still either waiting to get help or just not getting it at all, most people would give up. Most people would not jump off a wall and carry them bridal style to the infirmary the sixth time, but Jinshi still did, and he did it with urgency. Every time she gets hurt now, he is always panicking and doing the most he can to help, even if it's most times him just screaming. He never gets tired of her and always wants to be around her at almost every moment.

I want to get the manga volumes and the light novel so badly, but I literally have a 50-bullet-point to-read list that just keeps growing because I’ve been stuck on Crime and Punishment for the last two months. But if anyone has some show ideas (they don't have to be anime) that I can yap about and make my brain work overtime, that would be very helpful.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Can I pretty please put in a request? For v-day, my crush asked me out, and I had such a good time. Then today she joined me at the gym and then she even bought me food after! So I was wondering if I could request something inspired by this. A cute gym date with poly!plastics x fem!reader, where they try to keep up with r routine but it’s a lot harder than they thought. Just something light and fluffy for the season of love❤️

Lots of love,

~🌱

Two Minutes

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

|| Warnings; struggling with weights, middle finger mention, teasing, fluffy, short drabble

|| Summary; when at the gym, the girls try to keep up with reader's routine.

Requests open!

Started; February 25th

Finished; February 25th

~~~

They were trying. They really were, the girls wanted to keep up with your routine but were finding it pretty difficult. They don't go to the gym often themselves, Regina occasionally runs but this is more than what she's used to.

"Holy crap," Gretchen muttered after trying to lift a few weights, holding her side as she watched you. She glanced at Karen, who was nearly in a trance state watched your biceps.

"You guys doing okay?" You asked with a grin, setting down the weight in your hands.

"Absolutely," Karen replied with a nod. Feeling completely okay because, well, she had a pretty nice view of your muscles and she wasn't about to complain.

"You're like- crazy," Gretchen replied. Her eyes never leaving you, flexing her hand to relieve some of the pain.

"Crazy? It's not that hard," Regina rolled her eyes. The three of you looked to the blonde, giving her a questioning look.

Gretchen smirked and gestured to the weight," okay then pick it up and lift it for fifteen seconds."

"Only fifteen? I can do two minutes easily," Regina was too proud to admit when she was in over her head. So, she lifted up the weight and managed to get in a solid eight seconds before her arms started to tremble.

You noticed and walked over to her for support, ready to catch either her or the weight. Whichever fell first.

She held on for another two seconds, before she had to let go. She dropped it (stupidly) between the two of you. Startling you.

"Christ-" you looked at Regina, who was now trying to catch her breath as she flipped off a laughing Gretchen.

You couldn't help but smile.

You loved your idiots more than anything.

Well, almost anything. Your favourite restaurant they took you to after was a pretty damn close second.

[thevillainswhore]

Deserving

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Bucky has internal scars too deeply imbedded that cause him to hide away from the world on the dark days. But he always knows, no matter how long he takes, you’ll forever be waiting for him on the other side — the light to bring him home.

Warnings: Established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, mental health, themes of depression, nudity (non sexual), depreciation/self esteem issues, Bucky is seriously sad, fluff.

Author’s Note: Proofread by @buck-star. Divider by @saradika-graphics. This is a little bit of a heavy one folks ❤️‍🩹 not usually my thing, but after a difficult couple of months I needed to get this out. My inboxes are always open for those who are struggling with their mental health, thank you for reading x

“How long has he been locked in there?” Steve’s concerned voice interrupts the silence of the compound late at night while you sit at the kitchen table, aimlessly stirring your now cold tea. 

You clear your throat and look up, the anxiety visibly courses through your features just as it does your friend. “Just over a week now, I think.” 

Steve sighs. “It’s gotten bad again.” 

You hum, unable to muster up anything else. It had been seven days of constant worry since the moment you had woken up on that first day to find the warm heap of muscle that usually tangled its limbs with yours wasn’t next to you in bed, but rather instead locked away in the bathroom. 

Bucky insists it’s what’s best for him; to shut himself from the world when his thoughts become dark and his nightmares come back from the dead to haunt him. But it was difficult to let him wallow in depression by himself, knowing his self destructive tendencies enjoy the hacking to his self esteem. 

Steve shuffles his weight between his feet, looking unsure of himself. “Shouldn’t we intervene by now?” He steps further into the kitchen and sits on the chair opposite you. “Surely we can’t let him continue like this.” 

You smile ruefully and push your mug to the side. “Steve, honey,” you begin carefully. “I know you’re concerned because he’s your best friend. Trust me, it’s hard for me to sit here and wait it out too. But you can’t force someone out of the recesses of their mind when they get like this.” Sliding your arms across the table, you gather Steve’s hands in yours. “Especially not Bucky.” 

The look on his face breaks your heart. “I know, I know. I just hate seeing him like this”, he sighs sadly. “I hate the feeling of doing nothing while he’s struggling.”

“Me too, sweetie.” You squeeze his hands before leaning back in your chair. “All we can do is give gentle encouragement. Let him know we’re here whenever he’s ready.” 

Although the worry was all the same in these situations, you were well seasoned with how to maintain your distance for Bucky’s well being, while also showing your love from afar by now. For example, the meals you had left him every single day without fail outside of your shared room; his favourite comfort food with a sweet treat baked specifically by you to give him some energy. 

Or the blankets you love so much slipped into the room without breaking the promise of seeing Bucky before he was ready. Without looking, you would open the door and place the fluffy material by the floor. You also took the time to spray it with your daily perfume as a familiar comfort Bucky could relish in without your physical form. 

It broke your heart to be away from him for so long, even if you were in the same vicinity as each other — always only a distance away that you could run to within sixty seconds should he need you. However, you knew this was what he needed. After the first time this happened within your relationship and you had no idea what he needed from you during that time, the two of you had sat down and discussed how you could support him better going forward. 

“Don’t worry,” you reassure gently before moving away from the table and placing your mug into the sink. “He’ll come to, he always does. Just gotta give him some time.” 

“Will you—,” Steve swallows his words harshly before trying again. “Could you let me know if he’s okay when you hear something?” Almost silently, he adds, “Please?”

You realise then that this is Bucky’s best friend, the man who defied every order and rule book to save him — multiple times. There’s a vulnerability in his ocean blue eyes and your heart is happy that the love of your life has other people that adore him just as much as you do. You wish Bucky could see the extent as easily. 

Softening your eyes, you don’t divert your attention for a second as you sincerely swear, “Of course, Stevie. I’ll make sure FRIDAY gets a message to you.” 

Steve blows out a heavy breath, seemingly lighter than he was when he first came in. “Thank you.” 

You share a delicate smile, an understanding between teammates, friends and two people who love Bucky so immensely. You’re about to bid him good night, ready to retreat to your old room just down the hall from your shared one with Bucky when a set of footsteps, timid and apprehensive creep towards you. Steve turns his head at the same time as you to find the very man on both your minds. 

“Bucky.” The relief in your voice is loud and the tension that you hadn’t even realised was so tightly weaved into your limbs instantly relaxes at the sight of him. It takes everything in you to not run into his arms, not wanting to spook him, so you tamper your emotions and stay rooted in your place while your eyes greedily take him in for the first time in a week. “Hi, baby.” 

Your boyfriend, head down with his long, matted hair hiding his face, lifts his head slightly until a peek of storm grey meets your gaze. You clock the dark, heavy bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, the chapped lips that have been bitten restlessly. The clothes, stained with sweat marks, lay unusually baggy on his form. Normally, his shirts sit snug on the muscles of his biceps and his toned stomach and his sweatpants fit defined around his thick thighs. However in the week separated from him, Bucky has lost a fair amount of weight you conclude from lack of training and eating. 

Though his stature is hunched and he’s so desperately trying to hide away in plain sight, Bucky is here, visible and alive. He’s in front of you because he wants to be, you know that from past experience. He’s ready to let you in and take care of him even when the nasty voice in his head is telling him he doesn’t deserve it. You try so hard to swallow the lump in your throat and will the tears not to gather in your waterline. 

As Bucky clenches his fingers tightly, the whirring of his vibranium arm filling the silence of the kitchen, you know what he needs right now is for you to take charge. He’s not verbal yet, present but unable to speak and so you step forward slowly until you’re closer to him but not yet crowding his space. 

“How about we run you a bath, hm?” you offer softly, a suggestion rather than an order. While you’re trying to lead, you want him to set the pace — everything on his terms. “The warm water will feel nice on your muscles.” 

With a barely there nod of his head, Bucky accepts and you breathe a little easier knowing he’s still there, just a little lost. But it’s the subtle flex of his fingers, reaching out towards you that threatens to crack you. 

Carefully, you thread your fingers through his. You don’t miss the shudder that violently tracks down his back or the small gasp he lets loose. Your heart is becoming whole once again. 

Before leaving the kitchen, you glance at Steve still standing staring at his best friend. It’s then you stop and tentatively rub your thumb against Bucky’s hand. “Stevie wanted to ask you if you’d be up for a drive sometime soon. Doesn’t that sound good, honey? Taking your bike out for a spin?” 

Steve holds his breath as Bucky lifts his head slightly. “Mhm.” His voice is rough around the edges, the syllables straining against his dry throat. 

It's all he can offer right now. But from the looks of it, Steve’s eyes light up like he’s won the lottery. “Can’t wait, pal. I’m ready whenever you are, just let me know.” 

Your friend then looks to you, mouthing a silent thank you. You smile before ushering Bucky to your room. 

Bucky stands in the corner of the bathroom, looking smaller than you’ve ever seen him. He still hasn’t said anything, instead choosing to remain quiet for now. That was more than okay with you. You would rather slowly pluck away at the wall he’s built around himself and allow him to come forth smoothly. 

Meanwhile, you had rolled your sleeves up, running the water to fill the bathtub. You pick up two options of bubble bath and read them aloud to your boyfriend. “Okay. So we’ve got Lavender or Eucalyptus. Both are great for relaxation. You think you’d prefer one, baby?” 

Bucky doesn’t respond, his owlish eyes blinking at you. Though his actions threaten the well of emotions in your throat, you remain calm and soothing. “That’s alright, honey. We can just put a little of each in. Best of both worlds, huh?” 

Again, there’s no response. But you expect nothing more. You hold no expectations of him, only wanting to gently encourage him out of his shell, just like you’d told Steve earlier. 

You pour each liquid under the running faucet and instantly soapy bubbles begin to form on the surface of the water. Happy with the result, you turn each tap off and smile towards your boyfriend. “All done, Buck.” 

He stands there motionless, eyes darting between you and the bathtub, still making no move towards you. 

“Would you like some help, love?” You move slowly, each step intentionally attentive. “It’s difficult sometimes, to get your body moving, isn’t it?” 

Bucky nods. It's not much, but it's something and you can work with that. 

“Right. We all need help sometimes. No shame in that, Bucky.” You’re in front of him now, a hair's breadth away from each other and you’re thankful to be let into his space. “Would you like me to undress you?” 

The air is stilted as you wait for any kind of indication from Bucky. It’s to your surprise that a gentle whisper slips from his lips. “Please.” 

You hone down the tears bullying their way to the surface. Instead, you smile shakily. “Of course, baby. Anything you need.” 

Raising your hands cautiously, you bring them to Bucky’s eyeline, allowing him to follow each motion you make. You bring them slowly towards the hem of his shirt, lifting the material over his torso and with a small struggle over his shoulders to the top of his head. 

“All okay, Buck? Can I keep going?” You check in, wary of any stipulations to his emotions. Reading his eyes, you know you’re good to reach for his pants. And so you do, taking careful measures to not let your skin connect with his prematurely and without permission. 

With only Bucky’s underwear left, you take one last chance to gain consent. “Am I good to help you take those off? We can keep them on or I can turn around while you do it yourself if you’re not comfortable.” 

But Bucky needs no time before he whispers his fingers against yours. A sign of his authorisation for you to take the reins. 

“Sure thing, honey.” Just like before you send him a reassuring smile before inching the last piece of material down his thighs and finally away from his feet. He stands naked before you and you make sure to look nowhere else other than his eyes. “Thank you for allowing me to do that, Buck. Can I walk you to the bath now?” 

There’s a slight moment of hesitance before Bucky places one foot in front of the other, searching for your hold. Immediately, you place one arm around his back, the other wrapping around his hand. 

You step together in sync, slow for Bucky’s sake. “Great job, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” Once you reach the tub, you give some directions. “Okay, you’re gonna step in now and I’m going to be right here with you.” 

Bucky grasps your hand tighter. You know he’s scared you’re going to leave. Gently, you swipe his tangled hair behind his ear and cup his stubbled cheek. “I promise I’m not leaving. I’ll be right by your side, okay love?” 

You see him swallow the lump in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing until he slackens his grip. Not before taking a deep breath, Bucky shakily lifts himself into the bathtub with your assistance and lowers himself into the water until his full body is submerged. 

“There we go.” Your pride for him is certain and absolute. You try your best to show him that. “Hard parts over with now, Buck. Now I can take care of you.” 

His pained groan echoes around the tiles of the bathroom. He’s hiding himself away from you but you’re eventually crumbling his defences down. 

“Let’s get this hair sorted out, huh? I’ll even let you use my shampoo you always steal.” The familiarity of your usual banter is a band aid to the wound so raw and open. Bucky was a fiend for thieving your most expensive toiletries — an excuse already lined up that no men’s products, no matter how costly, could match up to yours. 

Normally you would scold him, jumping into a shower after a prolonged mission only to find your shampoo empty with the bottle still placed on the rack. 

However, you would take those moments a thousand times over if it brought him even a slither of the happiness he supplied to you. 

It's then you run through your next steps with trained precision. You manage to run water over Bucky’s hair without getting any over his face, worried it may trigger him. You ignore the water in the bathtub, once transparent now a ruddy brown. And you silently open the bottle of shampoo, squeezing a generous amount onto your hands. 

“I’m about to climb in. Breathe for me, love.” You’re glad you wore shorts as you dip your foot into the water behind Bucky, swinging your leg over to sit on the ledge with your boyfriend between your thighs. A perfect position to stay close to him and provide him with the utmost care. 

Testing a tender touch upon his head and satisfied that Bucky is comfortable, you begin to lather the shampoo into his scalp. You relish in the grunts fighting their way through, the whimpers that climb up his throat, because this is the only way you know Bucky to finally cave in. Allow himself to be free from the shackles his mind clamps around him. Allow him to breach the prison he’s placed himself in. To come home to you. 

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur, purposely softening your voice to a gentle tone. “Let it out, I’ve got you. I’ll catch you.” 

As your nails scratch against his head, the first sob is released. You feel Bucky’s arms wrap around your thigh and his head lays itself upon you as his body begins to shake. You let him. The days worth of degradation and horror he’s allowed himself to relive escaping in this moment. 

“It's okay. Everything’s okay, Bucky.” It's a feat upon itself not to cry with him. A tear tracks down your cheek that you quickly wipe away with your shoulder because it’s your turn to be strong for him. To be the impenetrable wall he can lean on with the knowledge that he won’t fall. 

“I’m so sorry,” he weeps. You’re not sure whether he’s directing his words to you or someone else you’re not privy to. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” 

“Shh.” Your desire to make everything okay for him burns bright. “None of that now, okay? You’re here. With me. I’ve got you.” 

There’s a hole in his heart that’s never ending. Deep and wide and burrowed too far for anyone to try and stitch back together. You’ve tried. Though this kind of damage was irreparable. 

The good days always outweighed the bad. Bucky had come so far along in his healing journey for that to be untrue. But when the demons came out to play, there was no room for anyone else to hold a hand for him to grab on to. Bucky was dragged down into the dungeons of hell, locked away until the monsters had gotten their fix. 

Rinsing the soap out of his hair, Bucky’s wails begin to calm, the tidal wave having hit its peak and descending back down. You keep him close to you, no mind in how wet your clothes are, and quietly hum a tune. 

Your lullaby is eventually the only sound in the room, each note having the desired effect of soothing Bucky into a sense of peace. His limbs have loosened, his shoulders no longer stiff. And you wait ever so patiently for him to break the ice. 

That moment comes when you reach for the bottle of conditioner, beginning to apply it to the ends of Bucky’s hair. “Y-You’re so good to me.” While more stable, his voice still trembles. “Why are you so good to—to me?” 

You thin your lips, willing the cracks in your heart not to spread further than they already have. Grabbing the comb, you start to gently tease your way through the knots matting the strands of his chocolate locks. “That’s because you deserve it, baby,” you say confidently. “You deserve to be taken care of.” 

Bucky sighs, a heavy weight behind it. His next declaration falls from him quietly yet deafening. “Sometimes I don’t think I do.” 

“I know.” With a gentle push of your fingers underneath his chin, Bucky looks up at you, eyes sorrowful and still so beautiful. You lean down to kiss his forehead, then his nose and at last his lips. Against them, you seal your truth. “But believe me when I say it’s easy to love you. Like nothing else I’ve ever done before, no matter what goes on up here.” You tap by the side of his temple twice. “I’m in love with you on your bad days just as much as your good days. There’s no running away from that, Bucky. And I’ll prove that to you every single time, for as long as you need me to.”

His voice is hopeful when he strains out a choked, “Yeah?”” 

You hope your eyes display your conviction. “Every damn time, baby. I’ll bring you back to me.” 

Bucky’s eyes close at the sensation of your loving touch and promises. “I’d like that.” 

Kissing his lips one last time, you lean back up, setting aside the comb and grabbing the washcloth. Bucky stays unmoving, nuzzled into your thigh and so you begin to massage the muscle of his shoulders, humming your song once again. 

“Me too, Bucky.” 

You can’t fix him, you know that. Bucky is a man, tortured by memories and a past that stripped him of basic human rights. But you’re devoted to picking up the pieces he leaves behind, handing them over for him to glue back together. And if you found yourself slowly healing the cracks with your care and utter adoration for him for the rest of your life, you wouldn’t be mad about it. 

Because no matter what Bucky thought of himself, there was no doubt in your mind that he deserved your love. 

[zecroswe]

Self replicating and self annihilating, Mage Viktor, his goals, and Jayvik.

I have a lot of thoughts when It comes to Arcane as a show and I love season 2 a lot. One thing the show that I have been thinking about is Mage!Viktor and his true goal. You may wonder what I mean with this, after all his goal seems quite clear, 'prevent the Glorious Evolution/the end of the world and in the process break the timeloop/cycle Viktor and Jayce are trapped within'. And yes that is true, It is his goal! But if It was the only purpose of his actions, wouldn't the AU timeline Ekko ends up in be enough?

After all, that timeline has no Hextech and no Hexcore. The Glorious Evolution cannot take place in this timeline, so why did that timeline not break the cycle? Well let's first establish the nature of the timeloop/cycle.

Jayce and Viktor seems to be within a unstable multidimensional bootstrap paradox loop/cycle. I say unstable because the butterfly effect is very prominent in the show, so a small variable can change things significantly.

We don't know if there is a 'Original' timeline that started the cycle, so It seems safe to assume that the cycle is a bootstrap paradox with no clear origin point, something that in turn causes Jayce and Viktors partnership and the invention of Hextech to also be a Paradox. In this cycle there also seems to exist certain events that will more or less always happen, but not necessarily in the same way, or in other words, constants and variables within the timelines.

One of those constants seem to be that Jayce will always attempt to invent Hextech.

So if the goal was just to prevent the Glorious Evolution, the simple way to achieve It would just be to stop Jayce from inventing Hextech, but Mage!Viktor doesn't do this, because he can't do It, It would go against the true purpose of actions.

After a lot of thought and discussions with my older sister sense the show ended (also being insane about Jayvik), we came to a conclusion. Mage!Viktors goal is not just to prevent the Glorious Evolution or save Runeterra.

His goal is to save Jayce

To find a timeline were Jayce survives, with or without Viktor.

The reason to stop the Glorious Evolution is not only because It is the end of humanity and a world of dreamless solitude, but because It is a world without Jayce in It.

Suddenly a lot of the hoops Mage!Viktor goes through makes a lot more sense and also why the AU timeline Ekko ends up in doesn't achieve Mage!Viktors goal.

Jayce is most likely not alive in that timeline. According to Amanda, Jayce was exiled due to Vi dying in the explosion.

And well, we know what Jayce was about to do in the Main timeline when he *Only* got expelled and his research was ordered to be disposed of. It is very likely that Jayce in the AU timeline went through with taking his own life and AU Viktor most likely wouldn't be there to interrupt the attempt.

With this in mind and other key events in the show, finding a timeline were Jayce survives is actually really difficult! It is literally more likely that Jayce dies somehow than him living a full life time, I am not kidding. The amount of fail states that exist for this is honestly insane, so let's go through them shall we?

I will go through a few key events as examples and use certain scenarios to explain the potential chain reactions. Think of It like a flowchart, but without the chart. I can't take all variables into account, but I will show of some key examples to hopefully make sense of my point.

Exhibit A: The Blizzard

This is were the timeline spaghetti starts and were there is already multiple ways Mage!Viktors plan can go wrong.

Scenario 1: Mage!Viktor doesn't interfere

In this scenario two things could most likely happen. Either A: Jayce and Ximena die in the blizzard, or B: Jayce somehow survives the blizzard but Ximena still dies.

version A: Jayce is dead, Fail-state 1

Version B: Jayce is alive, but this will most likely lead to Jayce being exiled from Piltover due to Ximena not being around to speak up during the trial, and I am concred for Jayces mental state without a support network, the butterfly effect will most likely result in Jayce being dead somehow. Fail-state 2

Scenario 2: Mage!Viktor saves Jayce and Ximena but gives Jayce a Non-Acceleration rune or no rune at all

There is only one result of this. Jayce and Ximena both survive the blizzard.

Jayce is alive, but without the Acceleration rune, Ekko won't be able to invent the Z-drive and might be trapped in a AU timeline and as a result Arcane Herald Viktor will succeed with the Glorious Evolution, killing Jayce, Fail-state 3

Exhibit B: The Robbery

There is a lot of variance here and a few fail-states, but most of the fail-states are linked to the trial.

Scenario 1: Jayce doesn't get robbed

In this scenario Jayce would still keep his research a secret and most likely would not meet Viktor because his room is no longer a crime scene. This could would either lead to A: Jayces experiments with the crystals goes wrong and he blows himself up, B: Jayce doesn't succeed and is still stuck in his research or C: Jayce still gets put on trial somehow for having illegal contraband.

Version A: Jayce is dead, Fail-state 4

Version B: Jayce has no one to ask for help with his research and according to what Jayce wrote in his journal, his grades at the academy are dropping and might be at risk of expulsion.

Considering what Jayce almost did when he got expelled....Yea i think It is safe to call this a fail-state. Fail-state 5

Version C: Jayce would be put on trial and the nature of his research would come into question. He would still probably be expelled from the academy due to the illegal nature of his research. The main diffrence is that Viktor might not be at the trial this time and not be inspired by Jayce. Meaning that Viktor would probably not seek Jayce out, meaning that Jayce probably would go through with his attempt uninterrupted. Fail-state 6

Scenario 2: Jayce gets robbed

Well we got a example of a fail-state in the show for this but it is still worth mentioning. A: One of the kids dies in the explosion or B: Jayce dies in the explosion.

Version A: As mentioned earlier, Vi or any of the other kids dying in the explosion leads to Jayce getting exiled. Fail-state 7

Version B: Jayce is dead. Fail-state 8

Exhibit C: The Hexcore

Won't go into too much detail here because It would take waaaay to long, but the Hexcore is basically a exponential fail-state here. Considering what the Hexcore can do and what Jayce does with It in the show, the Hexcore basically means that any scenario Viktor dies a potential fail-state. Because one could argue that if Viktor dies at any point when the Hexcore is invented, Jayce will likely use It to do necromancy on Viktor, putting everything on track for the Glorious Evolution, or fail to do necromancy instead do something else insane that may or may not get him killed. The Hexcore is a temporal mine of fail-states, one that cannot really be prevented fully because Hextech + Viktor = Hexcore gets invented, and as established, No Hextech = No Jayce and No Viktor = No Jayce. Fail-state 99+

It is impossible for Mage!Viktor to stop the cycle before the Hexcore due to all the fail-states mentioned above. The only chance he has is if Jayce someone stops Arcane Herald Viktor before the Glorious Evolution starts. The Hexcore needs to be properly disarmed, or else It metaphorically explodes and Jayce dies.

Conclusion:

Mage!Viktor and Viktor in general is just as codependent for Jayce as Jayce is for Viktor. Both of them are fully willing to bend all of reality for each other. They both doom and save each other over and over and over again, just to stay together. The only way this cycle breaks is if they both make It out alive or both of them die together (I think they live but I digress). Mage!Viktor probably would not predict Jayce to stay with Viktor, It was not a requirement for his goals after all, but Jayce would never abandon Viktor and Viktor would never abandon Jayce.

In a way, Jayce and Viktors bond is the anomaly, self replicating and self annihilating, the beautiful intersection between order and chaos. Viktor replicates the cycle by trying to save Jayce and Jayce keeps self annihilating through his attempts to reach Viktor, knowingly or not, by inventing Hextech. They are soulmates by choice, the universe is trying to separate them any chance It gets and yet they keep fighting just to be together, and I think that is beautiful!

TL;DR: Mage!Viktors primary motivation is to save Jayce and find a timeline where he doesn't die before or during the Glorious Evolution. This process is extremely complicated because the universe does not like Jayce Talis existing because according to the timloop/cycle paradox, his existence is a time-space anomaly. Jayce and Viktor are both insane and willing to break all laws of time and space to be with each other. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[ikbitchssss]

I Just Want Your Heart (Daryl x Half-Walker!Reader)

Warnings/Tags: Major Character Death, Angst, Cussing, Blood, Violence, and Normal TWD stuff. If anymore, please tell me and I'll add it!

Season: In the 30 days between season 3 and 4.

Words: 3K

Plot: Daryl finds a walker, but she can talk. She’s always chewing on gum, and her body is a bit rotten. It’s like she was half dead. He goes ok to help her and take care of her, not knowing why. Until one day, he does something he might regret.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoy;3

(OG BLOG: @idkbishsss)

Daryl Dixon was a man who did not fall in love with anyone. He was a rough around the edges, redneck, quiet, distant, guy. He did not fall in love. He loved only one person, his brother. Lost together somewhere in an apocalypse world and treated him like shit most of the time sure, but he did love him. As much as he wouldn’t admit it because Merle would just scoff and roll his eyes.

Daryl Dixon was not a man of groups. He was a part of one, only because he had to. Merle said it was because they needed him, but Daryl had a feeling that it was because Merle needed them. Daryl didn’t do groups, but he understands the importance of them. As long as they left him only he was okay.

Daryl Dixon was not a family man. He never wanted a family. His only brother was now dead. He didn’t need a family. Sure, he had a small care for the kids in the group, and didn’t want them to die. He would protect them, but it wasn’t his family.

Daryl Dixon was a lair. He was a family man, these people at the prison were his family. It was his group. He lied about it himself and others about those things for sure, but he never lied about not falling in love. Sure he’d love, in like, a family way. He’d never fall in love though, he’d never allow himself to.

.

Rick had ordered Daryl to go out and get more fuel for the cars. They were low and needed more for runs. 

Daryl got in a trunk and rode up to a few big ass rich people houses he’d seen a few weeks ago. They had a lot of cars and trucks in the neighborhood, meaning a lotta fuel if no one raided it already. In fact, a few houses were having parties, so there were more than usual for bug neighborhoods.

He pulled up to the first house and went to go get the fuel out of the cars and trucks. Using the classic suck on a hose until you feel like passing out method, he got nothing. Hence the sucking too long. He decided he’d check the houses later if he had time and moved on to the next set of cars and trucks. These ones look promising, and were very promising. Fuel came pouring out like the rain, he filled two gallons worth of gas from four cars and one truck. 

He put those gallons back in the back seat, and went to the truck bed to grab more fuel cans. However, something stopped him, a loud screaming noise. He grabbed his crossbow and looked around for the source. He heard giggling and saw the house it was coming from.

He slowly approached the home with extreme caution. He turned around the halls that lead him to a bedroom. He could hear the smacking of gum coming from the room. A girl was sitting there on the bed. A girl was graying skin, dead walker eyes, and a few broken limbs. You.

You casually popped the bones back into place. You looked over to him and smiled, he drew his crossbow up and pointed it to you.

“Woah! I’m not gonna bite you, I am not like the other ones.” You made a joke out of it while putting your hands up. He was confused, what the hell is happening? Why is a Walker, a dead woman, talking? And why isn’t he shooting it’s head off?

You got up and walked over to him, still with your hands up. Your smile faded and you looked a little nervous. “Look I was freaked out and confused when I woke up and was… somewhat alive. But I don’t hurt people, and it still hurts when you hurt me… so please just let me go…” You begged for your life as if you were human. Daryl didn’t understand, you aren’t human, you barely look human. Well, you didn’t look like a walker, you still had flesh, but still, you looked dead. It freaked him out.

You knew he was freaked out, it was all over his face after you said those words. But honestly? Daryl was more than just freaked out, a small part of him was intrigued. Which wasn’t like him. He wasn’t an intrigued guy, but he wanted to know you, know what happened to you.

“Why’d ya scream?” He asked gruffly. You didn’t expect his voice to be that deep, he must smoke something. 

You wave it off and shrug. “Walker grabbed my leg, forgot they don’t bite me anymore.” He was even more intrigued by this, you were immune? Or just half turned. He knew the group would shoot you as soon as you got close because of what you looked like. He’s had personal experience in that at the fram, but he wanted to know you. 

“Look… I’ll show you the best water and food and well anything you need! In this area and neighborhood… just let me live… please.” As you begged him again he put his crossbow down. He told himself not to, to put it back up, kill you, threaten you. But he didn’t. He just nodded and let you lead the way to show him things.

.

You were a talker, and walkers didn’t even look at you when you were being so loud. Daryl found it strangely interesting. He’d never been interested in anyone really, let alone a woman. Yet, there was something about you that made him wonder and think more than he ever let himself before. 

You were showing him a map of the area and places that hadn’t been raided already. “Now there’s a horde here, but when you go just tell me about a week before and I can steer them clear from your path!”

He looked up at you, an expression on his face that could only be described as a little confused. “Now why would ya’ help us..?” He asked, quietly, you guessed he wasn’t much of a talker. 

“Meh! If we are neighbors I have to help you right?” You said it like it was obvious. Like people just help one another in these conditions. “It’s what good neighbors do!” You exclaimed, Daryl just nodded. It wasn’t the old world normal people knew any more, but you act like it. Then again, Daryl didn’t know much of normal, so who was he to judge? Besides, the help would be nice.

You altered your smile, your big grin going away into a slight smile. For a dead girl, you seemed happier than most people. Maybe that was the secret, being dead. But Daryl had people, he wasn’t going to leave them. They needed him just as much as he needed them.

After it was all said and done Daryl went back to getting fuel. You stayed around just kind of watching him. It made him nervous, and he felt a strange new feeling he hadn’t felt before. He wished he could place it, but after years of controlling his emotions, they were all over the place. He didn’t know how to pen point the feeling he felt.

After he was all done with one car, he’d move onto the next one. You’d follow him, just standing around, watching. It almost creeped him out at some points, almost. He wasn’t used to people watching him so closely. Maybe this is how people felt about him. But earlier you were so talkative, and now you just watched, quietly.

He put the last two gallons of fuel in the truck and turned around after closing the door. He jumped a little when he saw you behind him. It wasn’t noticeable to you, just him. You just smiled and put a new piece of gum in your mouth.

“I have to… leave.” He mumbled walking over to the truck door. He glanced back at you, seeing that you were no longer smiling. You stood back, looking back at your house.

“I’ll be back…” He said. He thought he was stupid for saying it, but when he looked up and saw your smile, those thoughts faded into nothing. He pulled out of there immediately, why does he feel this way? Questions plagued his mind as he drove back to the prison.

.

He pulled back into the prison and didn’t say a word to anyone, not even to Rick, who’d asked him many questions about the area. He just helped unload his truck and stayed quiet with the small nod a few times. As the sun started to go down over the hills and people started to go inside, Daryl soon followed them. He then walked back into his cell and pulled the thin sheet as a door over the opening.

Daryl put his crossbow down with his stuff. He took his shoes off and threw them next to his boots. Beth found him “nice” sneakers to wear. He only wore them because it made her happy. He took off his vets and threw it on the top bunk

He laid down on the bottom bunk. He was on his back trying to sleep, but he just kept thinking about you. He knew it was a bad idea to think about you this much, but he couldn’t control himself anymore like he used to. You were talkative and almost happy, even though you were dead. 

He has so many questions. Why’d you look freshly dead? Why’d you chew gum? If you bite him, will he turn? Can he even get these answered? Probably not, he’d probably not even go back. A broken promise he gave you based on impulse.

He wasn’t like this. He didn’t let himself be like this, he wasn’t weak. Yet, he was thinking about you. He just wanted to see you, but he won’t let himself. He’s not going to let himself. But then again, what if you didn’t like him?

He switched onto his side and buried the side of his head into his pillow. He groaned, he wasn’t going to sleep with his thoughts racing like this. Why was he so obsessed with you? You weren’t anything other than another traveler he met, a very interesting undead traveler he met. He needed to let it go. 

If he just doesn’t go near the houses, he’d be fine!

.

Unfortunately, Rick wanted to go to the houses to raid them. They needed more food and supplies. He was planning everything out for a few days. He told Daryl to lead the car and truck on his motorcycle. 

He led them there but was far ahead. You were out killing walkers and humming. You turned and saw Daryl, you dropped your knife and ran up to his bike. “Hey! You’re back!” You said joyfully. Daryl looked worried.

“My group, they’re gonna be here soon. Ya gotta hide…” he said. You looked confused, as if you didn’t understand that his group could hurt you. He turned over to the car and truck coming in and shoved you in the pile. He killed a walker and put it on top of you. 

You started to breathe heavily. You started to get scared. It reminded you of your death, but Daryl put you here. And you trusted him. He’s the only thing or person that hasn’t tried to kill you.

Daryl said he’d raid your home, as he did half of it already. The rest of the group went into other houses. He waited till they were out of sight and he picked you up from the ground and walked into the house.

“I said hide, girl.” He shoved you on the couch. And sighed. He picked up a few things and shoved them into his bag. One of two lighters, a water bottle, a few canned foods, and a knife. He then sat down next to you. “Won’t take it all from here...” he mumbles looking anywhere but at you.

You just grabbed some gum and chewed on it. Not paying much mind to him. 

“So. Your group. How come I can’t meet them?” You asked like it was urgent, like somehow you needed to meet them right now. 

He mumbled a little to himself before answering, “I don’t know how they’ll react to ya,” he paused and looked at your eyes, yellow and bloodshot, “hell I still don’t really know what to think…” He said with a grunt. You giggled, giggled at him.

He looked confused by it. “I’m a walker, who would know what to think?” You explained. He smiled a little and nodded his head. He guessed he understood that, who would react well? 

You got up and walked up stairs, you came back down with a bag. “Here. My old bag of supplies before I turned, enjoy your raid of my neighborhood stranger.” She smiled and he noticed that you weren’t chewing gum anymore, why?

He looked down and opened the bag, it was full of food and maps. It had a few knives too. He looked up thank you but you were gone, just like that. He missed his chance to talk to you. He just sat there, what was he meant to do? Go look for you? He had a job, raid this place.

He got up and looked through the house a little more, he found some things others could use. He guessed you didn’t use soap or cleaning things, you were dead. He had your bag and another full one of needs and others of wants. Beth and Carl requested things since they are still too young for runs.

He walked back outside and put the stuff in the truck. Rick and Michonne got done with theirs and walked over, same with Maggie and Glenn. A few new guys as well, but Daryl didn’t care to know their names. He should really learn your name.

Also, you weren’t as talkative as last time… why?

.

The next time Daryl went on a hunt he stopped by that neighborhood, you were nowhere to be found. You just disappeared into thin air. At a blink of an eye you were gone when he saw you last and you never showed up again. What happened? Did you not like him? Lots of why’s with you.

He looked up and down the neighborhood, but it was no use. He didn’t want to give up. You were so; no. He needed to stop, he couldn’t let himself get this close to you. It almost felt like… love.

What if you were dead? 

That thought hit him when he sat on his bike. Dead. No? You? But it was completely reasonable. You were half walker, you almost blended right in. You could’ve easily been killed by someone. What if it was someone in his group? What if his family killed you? 

No. They aren’t his family and you are nothing to him. You talk together only a few times, yet it felt like he knew you longer. 

He got on his bike and headed back on the open road. He was going to the prison again, he got a few rabbits that would be fine for now. 

The breeze was cold, a nice contrast to the hot sun that beat his pale skin to a tan. He always loved taking these bike rides. They were peaceful, especially when he was stressing about stupid things. No more of that, but there was something he the road

He pressed the brakes, hard. You stood in the middle of the road, scared. He got off his bike and ran to you. The whole, not stressing about things always lasts him two seconds.!“Are you okay?” He said, you hugged him.

“Hey stranger..” You just sobbed into his neck. His beautiful, fleshy, biteable neck. You pushed him away. He was confused, why? Did you really not like him? Is what he feared right?

“I’m going to bite you… I want to bite you… I keep wanting to bite people… I’m freaking out! Gum doesn’t help anymore!”

Daryl grabbed your hand. “Then let’s find some asshole to cure that hunger.” You looked at him like he was crazy. Hell, he knew the plan was crazy, but losing you was crazier. He couldn’t lose you, he loved you. Goddamn it, he fell fast and hard, but he loved you. He really did.

You pulled your hand away from his. He wanted to run and hug you, make you stop running from this, he can handle a bite. “It doesn't work like that! I just got hungrier..” You mumble, you tried it already. It didn’t work. He grabbed your hand.

“I’ll find a way. I need you…” he mumbled that last part but it made your heart break. It happened in three swift moves. He kissed you, you bite his lip, you pull back. It was all so fast that you nor Daryl had time to realize what happened. What you both did. A kiss and a bite.

“Stranger-“ 

“Daryl.”

“Daryl… I, you’ll turn…” You mumble, you’d be crying if your tear ducts worked. Goddamn it, he had a family, you were going to kill him. He nodded and laid his head on yours. “And I’ll be yours…” he mumbles. He knows he’ll miss his family, it’s why he sheds a tear, but he wants to be with you. Maybe you’ll both be half dead. Maybe you’ll find a way to live. Maybe his family will accept you guys.

Daryl Dixon was a man of love. Fast, messy, sweet, heartbreaking love. He’d give the world, he’d give himself, for the one he loved. Over and over and over again. He was a lover, because he allowed himself to fall in love. He was all the things he thought he wasn’t, because he was a liar. But he would no longer be a liar, because he knew he was these things. He was just Daryl Dixon. A very half-dead and in love Daryl Dixon.

[gayofthefae]

@willielli just made this post that referenced a comparison between "unrequited" Byler and season 2 Dustin and Max

We have SO many examples of them doing this story WELL! They KNOW how!

Dustin liked Max and was sad when she was with Lucas and we were shown it. Notably, though, he never made any sacrifices demonstrating the depth and selflessness of his love OR cried over her. But he did like her and we were on his side for it. But when she didn't like him back, we believed it. And when he got over it, that was believable too.

THAT'S what people think this is. They think Will will get over it because Dustin did, but that's not the way this one has been set up. Not only was that a one-season love story (and with no weight of queer trauma being told through it/large impact on existing self esteem issues based in consistent prejudice and abuse being the stakes), it was also told much differently and much more lightly.

Max liked somebody else and that was shown, but she was also shown to show a DISinterest in Dustin. She was confused and weirded out by him in the dumpster diving scene with his "hi Max :))" that was an obvious crush tell.

They made a point to show little, subtle things like this. They didn't do that with Mike.

And I need to remind you. Not showing something is very different than SHOWING that it ISN'T there. People CONSTANTLY confuse "they didn't show he reciprocated" with "they showed he didn't reciprocate". They also didn't show Will being a purposeful target of Vecna the whole time. Know why? Because we have a SEASON LEFT AND THAT WOULD SPOIL IT AND LEAVE NOTHING LEFT. "Yet" is a vital word here. There is an absence of confirmed reciprocation, then there will be a presence. People think there is a negation and then will be a presence, so they call it contradictory, but that's untrue.

Max could have been torn between the two. Her time with Lucas and even feelings for him have no bearings on whether she also has feelings for Dustin. That is the entire basis of love triangles. "Mike said he doesn't love Will!" No, Mike said he does love El. And those are not the same thing.

Lack of interest (which isnt even the case) and disinterest are not the same. they would have shown him disinterested if he were.

He showed interest in El. He did not show disinterest in Will. He matched his energy, in fact. Max didn't. They know how to do this, as always.

[captain039]

Part 10 The Meaning of Flowers

Viktor x reader

Bridgerton AU

Warnings: olden times, sexism, light swearing, plus size reader, older Viktor, age gap, fat shaming, sexual, smut, oral F and M receiving, innocent reader, corruption kink, reader in her 20s, long-haired Viktor, possessive Viktor, obsessive Viktor, angst

Previous part <-

Dearest reader the city is abuzz with the newest engagement of the season, the duke has finally found his dutchess, after his time ill it seems he has finally come to his senses to take a wife and save his house.

A wedding day, a time of happiness, love and celebration, where two souls come together under god and marry. You’ve pictured your wedding day many times, imagined what the happiness would feel like once you’ve married the love of your life. Only there was nothing, there was no joy, no overwhelming love, you’re marrying a man you hardly know, you don’t know his favourite colour, his favourite sports, his favourite food, it’s all been feelings, fleeting emotions and tensions and now you are to be tethered to him for life. The engagement period lasted about a month, you promenaded, went to the races, visited the art gallery with him, but there was no words, no laughing or smiling just silence, the only noise you recognise him with us the sound of his cane against the floor, thump…thump…thump.

You should be happy, in which a white beautiful dress, the veil, the flowers, your hair done nicely, it feels like an act, a show. You can hear the music in the church and murmurs of people inside as your father stands beside you stiffly. Viktor’s words were true, your papa was in debt from gambling and spending nights at a brothel every week. He hasn’t spoke to you since Viktor said he’d marry you, hell even your mama hasn’t commented anything rude about your existence. Your lady maid, Mercy, has more than once walked in on you crying your eyes out on the bed. Councilwoman Mel has visited, let you cry to her a few times, she explained marriage on your long talk, the marital act after the wedding the honey moon phase of love and passion. It made you excited now it makes an ill feeling in your stomach churn. The music shifts, a signal for your long dreadful walk down the aisle to be given away to your new husband. Husband… you thought that word meant something now, now you’re not so sure.

People rise as you walk, they look at you with fake smiles, but you don’t return them your eyes ahead to focus on your soon to be husband who has his back to you and is looking at the priest rather than his own soon to be wife. It makes you angry, upset, makes you want to run out of the church and run away from Piltover. You think about the stability, no more whispers, you’d have scored the unscorable duke. You stand beside him and he still doesn’t look at you as the priest begins to speak. You don’t register his words not really, you hear the I do out of Viktor’s mouth and the I do out of yours before you repeat vows and place the rings. He’s shaking, his slender hand shaking as slides on the ring before forcing his hands back to his side like he didn’t just bind you forever.

“I pronounce you husband and wife” there’s cheers and claps you look out over the crowd seeing your family, you look seeing councilwoman Mel and councilman Jayce clapping as well. Jayce is smiling but Mel is not, her green eyes meet yours and she gives you a solemn look. You follow Viktor out the church, he doesn’t take your hand and gets in the carriage without helping you either. You ignore it, ignore the hurt and pain as you climb in and sit opposite him, the door closes and the carriage begins moving away from the noise. You look out the window watching the city go by.

“My estate is a days journey from here” he says. Finally he speaks to you his voice rough and angry.

“Your estate?” You ask, your honeymoon is to be at his estate?

“Yes” he doesn’t explain further and you feel like punching the man. You sag into the seat you want this stupid dress off. You look at the ring on your finger a beautiful red stone encased in silver, pity it wasn’t a ring of love.

The ride is silent, you make it to a small inn you’ve never heard off and he orders two rooms, separated on your wedding night. The inn keeper gives you a once over noticing your wedding dress, she gives a sad look and hands you a seperate key as Viktor limps off to his room and closes the door shut.

“You alright sweetheart?” The woman asks as you stare at his door. You force a smile and nod going into your room and closing the door. A few of your bags have been brought in already and you undress cursing the ties. You can’t get them, no Mercy here to help you, no calming hair brushing no stupid talks in front of the vanity mirror. You lean against the table taking a shuddering breath before you yell. You don’t care who hears, you let out your frustration.

It’s a gut wrenching sound when he hears it. His pacing stops his stomach churns and his chest tightens. He’s an animal, a horrid monster. He thought marrying you would be the right thing but now, now he wishes the right man for you and it isn’t him. He wanted to corrupt you and claim you and now that he has he realises how wrong he was, how Mel was right to tell him off to leave you alone. All that time he’s spent with you in silence, he saw the when your hope died, about a week in, you gave up on greeting him with small smiles and nods, instead you walked silently by him just as he walked silently by you, the only sound of his cane thump…thump…thump. What man doesn’t look at his wife on their wedding day, he didn’t turn around, he stood, he shook and hoped nobody would see it, you did, the moment he put the ring on your finger he say the small crease of a frown between your brows. He didn’t kiss you either, he walked off, didn’t take your hand expected you to follow without word like a good quiet wife. That’s not you, you’re not a good quiet wife, you’re intelligent, you have real emotions you get angry, upset, annoyed, you glare and frown at him. He sits down on the edge of the bed his whole body throbbing not just pain but longing. He should be taking you somewhere nice, somewhere green and lush, somewhere happy and full of love not this cheap inn on the way to his lonely estate. He hates himself, but he can’t fix it now.

You struggle with your dress tears in your eyes, not from the dress but everything, a sob wracks through your body as your arm bends awkwardly to undo the cords at the back. You let out another frustrated yell and cry as you grip the desk and hang your head. You don’t hear the door open over your heavy breathing you feel hands though, slender and shaking. You don’t turn around afraid it might make him disappear as he slowly undoes the laces of your dress. His hands slide up pushing the sleeves off so it falls in a heap at your feet leaving you in your under dress and corset. You feel like you can’t breathe with this corset on, he senses it too undoing the laces and you finally breathe. You feel his fingers shake as he runs his finger tips up your arm before they rest there, you feel him step closer his forehead resting against your shoulder blade. You take a shaky breath more tears rolling down your face as you feel his warm breath against your skin. You turn around making him lift his head, you look at him, he’s gained a bit of colour back but his eyes are still deep and tired and lacking. His long hair isn’t as smooth and shiny. He looks you, dull honeyed eyes glazing over with tears and you realise he isn’t as unaffected as you thought. His body shakes, he looks tense, in pain physically and maybe mentally as well. He leans his forehead against yours and you breathe him in with shaky sobs. His fingers trail up your arm, over your shoulder and neck to cup your jaw gently stroking it before he tugs you close. His arms wrap around you like a vice your tears staining his white shirt but you don’t care. You grip the back of his shirt tightly and cry.

You stay like that for a while, his shuddering breathing and your sobs slowing and calming. Your fists aren’t white knuckled any more and his arms aren’t around you as tightly. He still shakes you realise he’s in pain from standing without his cane.

“Stupid man” you whisper and he lets out a humourless laugh. You sit him down on the bed and he lets you, you sit down on the floor and roll his pant leg up without thinking. He flinches and you stare at the metal brace around his leg, the bruising in his skin. You stare at the brace, look at how it’s digging in to his leg your hand shaky as you go to touch it but he flinches away again. You look up to him, he looks scared. You’ve never seen him scared before, vulnerable, ashamed. You go to your knees and straighten up so you’re between his legs. One hand resting on his good thigh the other cupping his cheek. No words are passed but it isn’t the same as before, understanding passes instead as he takes a shaky breath. He unbuttons his shirt and you watch seeing the brace around his lower torso too. He slides it off and you watch; the brace isn’t as tight as his leg one, but it’s constricting, you watch his chest rise and fall but it’s limited. He undoes his pants next with shaky hands and you take over as he lifts his hips and you slide them down. The leg brace stops just above his knee, the bruising in rings around his ankle, calf and knee. You sit down again looking at the brace, it comes off, but he doesn’t take it off by the look of it. You go to touch again and he doesn’t flinch this time, you slowly undo the brace, it takes you a while before you slide it off. You notice his leg is thinner than the other as you gently run your hands over the bruises gently. You hear him suck in a breath when you lean forward and kiss the bruise just below his knee. Then the one lower before kissing the one on his thigh. His hand is in your hair, gently tangling through the locks. You sit up again on your knees his hand sliding to the nape of your neck, his forehead rests against yours. Your hands rest on his thighs you can feel the difference, one weaker than the other in muscle density. Your hands inch higher and hear him intake a sharp breath.

“No” he says almost pained and you stop.

“I don’t deserve it” he whispers. He’s right, he doesn’t not after everything but somehow, you still want to. You inch your hands higher again and you feel his brows pinch together before his hands grip your wrist.

“Please” he begs softly. You stop and he sighs shakily. You frown when something wet hits your hand and you pull your head back slightly to see him crying. You cup his cheeks and he lets out a strangled sob that makes your heart break and your own eyes water. You stand up and hug him, his arms going around your middle his face buried in your stomach as he cry’s. Gods you’ve never seen a man cry let alone break down, it’s gut wrenching, makes your stomach churn as you gently massage his scalp trying to offer support.

He cry’s till he can’t, till his body aches and his lungs press against the brace. He feels weak, more than normal, he failed as a man, as a husband and he’s only been married for 10 hours. He doesn’t deserve you, your pureness, your innocence, all that he ruined. He wants to go back, do it all again properly, court you properly without the corruption, he wants to give you flowers, sit with you and eat biscuits, walk by the river and talk about your favourite things, he wants to know what makes you laugh, what makes you passionate, what makes you sad, angry, he wants it all and now, he’ll never get it.

Next part ->

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hi! I hope you’re having a great day! 🌟 I absolutely love your blog and your writing—it’s always so creative and immersive. I was wondering if you could write a Reverse Flash (Eobard Thawne) imagine for me? Here’s my idea: - [ do you know the fanfic that you did about him and normal reader? Well, I thought you could write about the wedding reception or what when on during the wedding] No pressure, of course—I just think your writing style would bring this idea to life in the best way! Thank you so much for considering my request, and keep up the amazing work! 💖

Eobard Thawne x male reader

Headcanons

I’ve been sending out job applications, how’s everyone else doing? I actually know like, nothing about weddings. The one wedding ive been through was thrown together in like three weeks.

you can find the fic mentioned here

The wedding could go multiple ways. It could be a huge wedding that costs more money than you could ever imagine. Or it could be something small and personal.

I think it makes more sense if it was a smaller wedding. Because sure, Eobard could show off, but he also has like no one to invite from his side, and he knows you prefer things being down to earth and calm.

The only person really invited on his side is Barry and that’s because you invited him, claiming that being rivals for so long pretty much made them family.

Your family has always loved Eobard, even if he has his moments where his villainy shines through. They’re all as normal as you, and could care less about his evil deeds. Eobard helps them repair stuff around their houses, and chased off your cousin Linda’s evil abusive ex. That makes him good in their books.

I think Eobard has little idea how to really plan a wedding, especially with someone he loves as much as you. Good thing he’s got you, and your one cousin who’s a wedding planner who’s helping you guys’ plan as a wedding gift.

Your family is pretty damn big, and you got people in all fields. Theres your uncle Bill whos got a major catering business, and your younger cousin who has a band willing to play. Your aunt Jenna gets the flowers for cheap, and your uncle Michael and his husband Diego run a security company.

I can even see Eobard being close to uncomfortable with just how open and supportive your super normal family is. Your nieces and nephews love Eobard for many reasons, from his red hair to him teaching them self-defense.

If it wasn’t for you, Eobard would become a major bridezilla, or should I say groomzilla? He wants it to be perfect, from location, time, season of the year, everything. It needs to be just as you guys planned. You succeed in pulling him in before he starts spiraling most days.

I can imagine Eobard would want to wear a yellow suit, but you and your groomsmen and bridesmaids end up talking him out of it. Instead, he wears a black suit with a yellow, and you wear a white suit with a red tie.

You spend quite a lot of time talking him out of stress or anger when things don’t go right, or when he’s starting to get overwhelmed. Theres multiple times you have to talk him out of time travel to get what he thinks is best.

The wedding goes off with little issue. There is a moment where Eobard wants to be mad about Barry showing up. But at this point it’s more just because he’s so used to being evil when he sees Barry. It’s like a trained reaction.

Barry brings a gift of course, off the registry since he doesn’t really know you too well.

Your family assume that Barry is related to Eobard in some way since they have a “similar energy” around them. Barry gets along well with your family, and fits into the wedding guests easily.

Eobard will never admit it, even if your family get it on video, that he started crying when you guys were saying your vows. His vows aren’t long, but are meaningful to the two of you, and it’s obvious he’s trying his best to express those feelings to you verbally.

The rings you guys wear are probably made out of some material Eobard got his hands on. something that can’t be broken by him using his powers or in battle, and something that cant be copied by others since he’s possessive.

There is of course a large party afterwards, with lots of hugs and congratulations from everyone in attendance.

As your family are all over you, laughing and celebrating, Eobard pulls himself to the side for a breather. He loves you so much, but it can be so overwhelming sometimes to feel so normal and accepted, loved even.

Barry would saddle up beside him with a drink in each hand, so the two of them end up standing side by side as people dance, drink and eat.

Barry would express how happy he is for Eobard, that he found someone who matters so much to him. That Eobard looks so much happier and healthier than the last times he saw him. Eobard would grumble but flush, mumbling about how he’s obviously better because he has you.

In the end you guys celebrate to your heart’s content, and when the party is over you guys don’t go to a hotel. Instead, Eobard runs you guys’ home so you can cuddle in bed and just be together.

Theres not much reason to hold a honeymoon in the way most others do. If you guys want to go to another country, Eobard will just run you there. Instead, you take as long time off work as you can, so you guys can just be together and do whatever you want.

[heathensimmer]

Tired of Sims 2 Part-Time Job Hours? TRY THIS

3-6, 3-6, 3-6 WHYYY ... I mean, I know why, it's because part-time jobs were allowed for teens, and they were in school before 1.

But it's still annoying when I just wanted my Sim to have a part-time job when her son is in school.

So here is an edit of the Education career that came with Sims 2 Seasons. It allows Sims a part-time job that is in the mornings! I can release more if people need me to, or other career-related requests. I would love to write a custom career ... I have an idea for "WooHoo Worker" but not gross ... like actually Sim-y and grounded in their world and fun!

The only things I edited in this career was the build-up of Vacation Days - which was strangely the same as a full-time career (I'm going to have to check if this is vanilla coding for other careers) - the hours and the skill needed to progress to level 2, Teacher's Aide, requiring 1 point of Cleaning instead of nothing. And I think I tweaked the weekly schedule as well.

It's the same Teen-Elder Part-Time Career as in vanilla Sims 2. The chance cards were actually written right this time! Imagine that (EA pleaseee I love you so much)

When choosing this custom career using the newspaper, computer, shift clicking the newspaper with boolprop testingcheatsenabled true, or any other way of selecting a career, the career is simply named "Education (Mornings)"

This career has a new GUID and shouldn't overwrite any other careers. The reason I did this is because I still wanted players, and myself, to be able to have teens work at a job afterschool as well!

I can upload another mod with a career that OVERWRITES the Education part-time career if you don't want a lot of careers clogging your selection, if requested.

Requirements: At least Sims 2 Seasons

Conflicts: Careers with the same GUID as mine which is 0xD243BFD1

Job Description:

Playground monitor 10 am - 1 pm

Teacher's Aide - 8 am- 11 am

Substitute Teacher 8 am - 12 pm

Have fun!

Below is a link to a folder on my SimFileShare. It contains my two Uni career edits, Natural Science and Oceanography, as well as my Part-Time Education (Mornings) Career.

[npuppet]

LaDs rambles #6

Songs/mini playlists I think fit each LI + YouTube links (I don’t have Spotify)

‼️A lot of songs are explicit so listen at your own digression‼️

⭐️ are personal favorites (recommended)

(It starts out with overused Insta songs lol) (I branch into more niche songs out I promise)

Zayne:

Disease by Lady Gaga (obv) (“I could play the doctor, I can cure your disease, If you were a sinner I could make you believe”) (die Astra)

⭐️Digital Silence by Peter McPoland (what if Foreseer was in modern time and was a desperate to warn MC of her future?) (“They’re gonna blind date everyone until you love them too”)

Arcade by Duncan Laurence (“Loving you is a losing game” huh? Man)

Wash. by Bon Iver (“Where ice snaps and the hold clast are known”) (It just fits the calmness he has I dunno)

Changing of the Seasons by Two Door Cinema Club (not because he fell out of love with MC but he doesn’t seem to remember as much as the other LI’s) (“The door is open, you whispered to me, As you stood frozen in deep uncertainty”)

Christmas Kids by Roar (“The Christmas kids were nothing but a gift, And love is a tower where all of us can live”) (just thinking if Zayne did remember)

⭐️Cursed Romantics by Maude Latour (bc who said Zayne can’t be girlypop?) (“‘Cause I’m obsessive when you call me “baby”, Your love is poison and no don’t can save me”)

Heavy Eyes by Zach Bryan (I just know Zayne would have tired eyes if he didn’t deal with his myth trauma right) (“Remember all the days we had, I say it ain’t so bad, Keep those heavy eyes soft and kind”)

⭐️Am I Dreaming by Metro Boomin, A$AP Rocky and Roisee (Dawnbreaker and Zayne) (“One of a kind, one of one, the only one, Got one shot and one chance to take it once”)

Rest of the LI’s under the cut

Caleb:

Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens (based on Caleb and MC being experimented on and MC dying over and over, tragic and existential) (“What could I have said to raise you from the dead?…And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best, though it never felt right”) 🙂

⭐️i am not who i was by Chance Peña (“so if I fly to far, Will I still have a place inside your heart?…Will you love me for who I am not who I was”) (it’s him, it’s Caleb)

SPIT IN MY FACE! by ThxSoMch (man will do and tolerate anything to be with MC I mean) (“I don’t know what to say except you’re mine mine mine mine mine”)

⭐️Nobody’s Solider by Hozier (this song fits him like a glove, like his whole deal is that he’s trying to wrestle control back in his life) (“Holding my world together with a bootstring, Living the dream”)

Freaks by Surf Course (after he left MC in the explosion) (“My head is filled with parasites, Black holes cover up my eyes”)

Broken by lovelytheband (“I like that your lonely, Lonely like me, I could be lonely with you”) (our obsessive king)

⭐️Tangerine by Glass Animals (he would get on his knees anyways-) (“You only look at me properly now, When you’re drunk watching movies, Where are you? What happened?”)

Sweet Talk by Saint Motel (at this point I think I’m just giving him a degradation kink…) (“Yeah, well, I’m not scared, I’m not going nowhere, Yeah, you might want me to drop dead, but I dont even care”)

She Said No by BoyWithUke (mmm angsty) (“I don’t blame you, I hate me too, but I can’t, Do a lot to change it or the thoughts in my head”)

Sylus:

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High by Arctic Monkeys (just based off of reckless MC) (“Incapable of making alright decisions, and having bad ideas”)

⭐️Like Him by Tyler the Creator (but very Dawnbreaker coded too so) (based on when MC got flashbacks in the story with Sylus but still doesn’t remember fully) (“How could I miss something that I’ve never had?”)

MILLION DOLLAR BABY by Tommy Richman (bc why not) (“I could clean up good for you, Oh, I know right from wrong”)

The World We Knew by Frank Sinatra (when MC went on a rampage after Sylus left, she’s real for that) (“Each road we took turned into gold, But the dream was too much for you to hold”)

Used to the Darkness by Des Rocs (just feels like Sylus)

Adventure of a Lifetime by Coldplay (ok but hear me out) (“I’m a dream that died by light of day, Gonna hold up half the sky and say, Only I own me”)

Bury Me Face Down by grandson (vengeful dragon) (“Wanted with a bounty on my head, But somehow someway, I’ma keep moving along”)

⭐️City on a Hill by Mon Rovîa (Sylus trying to comfort MC abt their past) (“Who was by your side, When the fire subsides, And it rains in your head?”)

⭐️Gold by Spandau Ballet (what was going through Sylus’ head when MC started to like him back lol) (“Nothing left to make me feel small, Luck has left me standing so tall”)

Rafayel:

Sex, Drugs, Etc. by Beach Weather (something I think he and MC should listen to on an open hood convertible kind of night by the sea) (“Dressing up for polaroids and cigarettes, Socilaize, romanticize the life”)

Softcore by The Neighborhood (kinda based off of the theory that Rafayel wears safety pins) (“You’ve been my muse for a long time, You get me through every dark night”)

⭐️All I Want by Kodaline (“When you said your last goodbye, I died a little bit inside”) (ow)

Here With Me by d4vd (another slow heartbreak song what’s new) (“I wish I could live through every memory again, Just one more time before we float off in the wind”)

Applause by Lady Gaga (bc I’m on a Lady Gaga binge lol) (“Pop culture was in art, now art’s in pop culture in me!”)

⭐️Blood // Water by grandson (I think alternative fits Rafayel) (“The price of your greed, your son, and your daughter”)

Drama by Spencer Sutherland (Raf is just feeling himself)

Love Me Less by MAX (I think it’s fitting since he’s not as forthright with his underground activities as Sylus is)

Xavier:

I Love You So by The Walters (I think it fits his 5* Outcast’s Voyage and just his story in general) (“I’m going to pack my things and leave you behind, This feelings old, and I know that I’ve made up my mind”)

Army Dreamers by Kate Bush (based on that the people who came with Xavier all had dreams but turned into Wanderers instead) (“We’ve a bunch of purple flowers to decorate a mammy’s hero”)

Towards the Sun by Rihanna (“Shadows chase me far from home, I remember when my heart was filled with gold”) (also funny that the movie this song is from is based on aliens lol)

⭐️When Will I See You Again by Shakka (song is literally made for my poor boy) (“Shooting stars never fly for me, My hearts on Mars, kinda hard to see”)

Alien Boy by Oliver Tree (just bc) (“I still make it work, But it’s overrated and somehow, played out”)

⭐️Are We Ready? (Wreck) by Two Door Cinema Club (I dunno sometimes the lyrics aligned with his story to me) (“I saw the world today, It comes in green and gray”)

Jealous by Eyedress (our jealous possessive king lol)

All LI’s:

Mind Over Matter (Reprise) by Young the Giant

Harpy Hare by Yarlokre (yup)

⭐️Chamber of Reflection by Mac DeMarco

her by JVKE

Again and Again by The Bird and the Bee (need I explain?)

ALL GIRLS ARE THE SAME by RØNIN (lmao)

⭐️Mr. Feel by John Michael Howell

can’t slow down by almost monday (kinda a song I imagine MC, Caleb, and Zayne playing on a roadtrip when they were younger)

Aphrodite by Ethan Gander (yearning my favorite (: )

We’ll Meet again by Very Lynn (obv)

MC lol:

Daydream by Gunter Kallmann Choir (MC and Sylus)

GONE, GONE / THANK YOU by Tyler the Creator (give girl a break yknow??)

Wasted Summers by juju<3 (after Caleb left her in the explosion)

I wanna be your lover by €CHO€D 4W4Y (yessir)

⭐️Apple by Charli xcx (once delulu, always delulu)

Sunshine by OneRepublic

Sick of Being Young by Krooked Kings

Feel free to leave ur songs u attribute to the LI’s ((:

[sterifels-blog]

Ornithomancy

part 1 of sheriff!john price x widowed!reader (fem)

🔗 masterlist

ornithomancy – the practice of interpreting the actions of birds to predict the future

────────────────────────────────────

There is a bird carcass by the well.

It is fresh, dewed with the evening’s breath, a mosaic of snapped bones and feathered ruin, the head twisted backwards as though it had tried to watch itself die. Its beak gapes, a tiny thing, glossy as obsidian, open in a silent note that will never finish.

You kneel.

The hem of your dress dampens in the dust, dark and silt-heavy, the scent of clay thick in the cold air. Two fingers press against the fragile chest, and you feel it—hollow, brittle. A thing no heavier than a secret. The ants are already at it, threading into the sockets, dismantling it piece by piece with an artisan’s patience. They know.

Everything here is meant to be devoured.

The chickens are restless. Claws scratch against the dirt, rhythmic, a slow percussion to a hymn only they understand. Their eyes, dark pinpricks of ink, stare from behind the slats of the coop, unblinking. Their small heads twitch, angular, wary. They know, too.

You lift the bird, curling it into the nest of your palms.

It weighs less than the ring you pawned last summer, the one that left a ghost of gold around your knuckle, the one that kept slipping loose from your fingers. You had never been thin enough for it. Or maybe you were never meant to wear it.

It had belonged to him, after all. Him.

The house behind you is an echo. A hollowed-out gourd, carved into something that only mimics a home, its walls flaking like old scabs under the weight of wind and time. The wood swells and shrinks with the seasons, like the lungs of something dying slow. The house breathes. Creaks. Expands under the strain of emptiness. No man inside. No voice to fill it.

Just you.

Just the birds.

You scatter seed as the dawn bruises the sky a bitter purple. The chickens rush forward, a tide of hunger on spindle-legs, wings flaring as beaks dart, sharp and eager. A robin lands nearby, its chest a furious red wound, its small feet flexing in the loose dirt. It watches you, wary, its head canting to the side in that erratic, clipped way—tiny heart hammering, all instinct, all hunger.

You can still hear his voice in the grain of the wood. The walls have been pickled in it, his laughter soaked into the floors, his anger pressed into the beams. You hear it when you scrape a knife across the cutting board, when the wind slithers through the cracks in the windowpane. You hear it in the rustle of his old coat hanging by the door, in the scuff marks his boots left against the threshold.

Two years.

Two years, and he is still here, in the most subtle of ways. In the rot of the wood. In the rust of the nails. In the hinge that groans when you push the door open, in the bite of the cold against your empty hand.

You had loved him once.

Had pressed your ear to his chest and listened to the slow, steady thrum of his heart, convinced it was a thing strong enough to last forever.

But you know better now.

Forever is nothing but bones in the dirt.

The well groans when you haul the bucket up, the old rope peeling in your hands, fiber by fiber, until it’s no longer rope but the suggestion of it—faint, unraveling, on the verge of forgetting itself. The water sloshes, heavy, thick with the scent of iron and stone. You dip the dead bird into it. Hold it under until the dust floats away, until the feathers slick back, revealing the small, pale frame beneath.

A burial, of sorts. Not one he would have bothered with.

Your husband never cared much for birds.

They were things to be shot from the sky, to be plucked and gutted, to be eaten and discarded, their hollow bones tossed into the fire, curling in the heat until they crumbled to nothing.

He had been like that. Always eating, always consuming, his hunger a cavernous thing that nothing could quite fill. Money, drink, the warmth of your body beside him in the night—none of it had ever been enough. A famine in the shape of a man, gnawing on whatever he could steal. Whatever he could gamble.

You wonder, sometimes, if the earth felt the same when it swallowed him.

The sun is rising now. The world stirs, stretching its limbs. The chickens are quiet, their bellies full. The robin is gone. Only the sky remains, an open maw of crystalline blue, swallowing the last of the night. The wind moves through the brittle grass, a slow sigh, the whisper of something distant, something inevitable.

You let the bird sink.

And the water closes over it, black and endless.

───────────────────

The house is hungry.

You feel it in the walls, in the way they exhale cold breath into your palms when you press against them. The wind seeps in, shivering between the splintered beams, licking at your ankles where the floorboards gape open like missing teeth on fleshy gums. It groans, soft and tired, settling in the night’s embrace. A carcass picked clean, nothing left but frame and sinew, waiting to be swallowed by time.

You don’t light a lamp.

The dark is kinder, in its way. It doesn’t show the dust creeping like moss across the furniture, doesn’t carve out the jagged edges of a home long since abandoned by warmth. Shadows soften the ruin, allow you to pretend—for just a moment—that nothing has changed. That he might still walk through the door, shaking off the cold, muttering about the damn horses again.

But ghosts don’t open doors.

And if he’s haunting anything, it isn’t this house. Men like him don’t linger. They rot.

The chair by the hearth still holds his imprint, worn smooth by the weight of him. You don’t sit in it. Can’t. It feels like trespassing. Like pressing your hand into wet cement and realizing it’ll never wash off.

Instead, you stand by the table, fingers brushing the lip of an empty cup.

He used to leave coffee rings on the wood, dark crescents where the heat bled into the grain, branding the surface. You hated it. Would scrub at them with vinegar, with salt, with the raw scrape of your nails—anything to make them disappear. But the stains remain.

Some things never wash out.

You remember the last time he sat there. Back curved, arms braced against the table, head in his hands. A man crumpled, worn at the edges, a candle burning too hot at the wick.

“I just need time,” he’d said.

You had watched him, waiting for something—anything—that would make you believe him.

“Just a little more time.”

He was always borrowing time. Hoarding it. Spending it in rooms where men made gods of luck, pressing his fingers into the green felt of a poker table like it might forgive him for the sins he carried under his nails.

You should have known, then, that he was speaking of time the same way a dying man speaks of air. Not as something he had, but something he was running out of.

And when it ran out—

You breathe.

The stove is cold. You haven’t cooked in days. The hens have gone to roost, their soft murmurs drifting through the cracks in the coop. Outside, something moves through the grass, a slow rustle, a whisper of life in the stillness.

A fox, maybe. Or something else. You don’t look.

Instead, you reach for the kettle, pour water into the metal basin by the window. The pump’s been temperamental lately, giving nothing but a cough of rust some mornings. You’ll need to fix it. One more thing to do. One more thing to mend.

You scrub your hands, nails digging into the beds of your fingers, scraping away the dirt, the cold, the ache. It doesn’t help. Doesn’t unmake the quiet that’s settled into your bones, curled against your ribs like a waiting thing.

A woman alone is a carcass waiting to be stripped clean. You dry your hands on the apron hanging from the peg.

Outside, the wind shifts. A change in the air. The night pressing in.

And the house—

The house is still empty.