#and this is bearing in mind that i've only just started the third year in the game

[umbracirrus]

I want a real life Elliott from Stardew Valley.

[himasgod]

King Deshret x Reader I

PART I: Where King Deshret falls in love with Nabu Malikata and forgets you, causing you to leave Sumeru to forget him

SCENARIO: you are the queen with King Deshret, however, he slowly falls in love with Nabu Malikata and forgets you, so, hurt by his betrayal, you ask Rukkhadevata to help you fake your death to leave Sumeru forever and go Inazuma to start a new life. Years later, when your heart had already healed, Rukkhadevata asks you to return to Sumeru to help her with the Withering, and you return, meeting him again.

(Here it is! I hope you enjoy it! I've made it longer than normal because I wanted to go into this one longer, doing it with a more descriptive narrative. I hope you like it and thanks for the request! Dedicated to sailorstar9)

(Also, second and third part will be published on Monday 11 and Friday 15!)

I.

From the beginning, you were Deshret's constant support, beyond politics and alliances with other gods. You shared a unique vision for his kingdom, a dream forged with every step you took at his side in the desert sands. Every glance you exchanged at the edge of the vast void spoke of your commitment, of your unwavering fidelity.

Your connection to him was deeper than sand and wind; you were his queen, not only on the throne, but in his ambitions and in his darkest nights. Each whispered word shared in the stillness of the night sealed the promise that love and kingdom would flourish together, no matter what danger lurked in the shadows. He taught you to believe there was something beyond the horizon, a power capable of shaping destiny.

You still remember the nights when he shared with you his deepest secrets, his desires and fears. He dreamed of a kingdom where his people were not slaves to the laws of heaven, and though his dreams were vast, his love for you seemed even greater. Under the cloak of the stars, he promised you that there was nothing that could break his loyalty to you.

II.

The peace of the kingdom was shaken when Nabu Malikata came into his life. At first, she was just a friend and an ally who shared with Deshret and Rukkhadevata the vision of a kingdom where the desert and the forest coexisted. You admired her strength and the gentleness of her presence, believing that she could be a powerful ally. However, over time, that admiration turned to uncertainty, because something in Deshret's gaze had changed.

Nabu Malikata brought with her an ethereal beauty, the kind of grace that seemed to merge with the wind and the water, that seemed to even calm the sands beneath her feet. You could feel the pull she exerted on him, like a distant star calling to him from above, unreachable and magnetic. In moments of silence, you noticed that his mind was no longer completely with you, but was lost in thoughts of Nabu Malikata, in the dreams they built together.

Every word Deshret said about her became a thorn in your chest. You tried to suppress the pain, to pretend you didn't notice how your nights with him became lonelier. You tried to remind him of his promise, to reconnect with the man you loved, but his heart seemed to have lost itself in a labyrinth of unknown longings. What was once yours was now foreign to you.

III.

Betrayal was a harsh word to describe what you felt, but you had no other word for the emptiness that began to expand in your chest. Deshret was trapped in his ambitions, in the secrets shared in whispered nights with Nabu Malikata, while you languished in silence. You could not bear to live in a realm where your love was no longer the center of his world, where you had been replaced by another vision, another soul.

It was then that you turned to Rukkhadevata, that wise and serene friend who knew the weight of pain and hope. You knew she shared an ancient loyalty with you, and her compassion inspired confidence. You revealed your fears to her and asked her for a soul-sucking favor: to help you disappear.

“Rukkhadevata,” you murmured, your voice cracking, “I’m afraid I cannot remain here.”

She tilted her head in understanding. There was no judgment in her eyes, only a stillness filled with empathy.

“He no longer belongs to me. His heart… has turned to her, and I cannot bear to remain in his shadow.” The words tumbled painfully from your mouth, but you held firm. “I ask for your help, my friend. I do not wish to cause conflict, I only want to leave, to be forgotten.”

With a sacred ritual, you faked your death, a disappearance shrouded in mystery and mourning. Deshret mourned your loss, but deep in your heart, you knew his grief was tinged with other feelings. He did not return to your grave more than once, and his devotion to Nabu Malikata continued. You left without looking back, knowing that your love had been sacrificed on the sands of his ambition.

IV.

Your arrival in Inazuma was a silent rebirth. Here, far from the sands of Sumeru and the memories you left behind, you began to rebuild your life. Over the years, your skill at purification and healing made you a symbol of hope in this land. People began to call you the Queen of Benevolence, a woman shrouded in mysticism and compassion, someone who had learned to heal poisoned souls and lands.

You dedicated each day to this new purpose, transforming pain into something positive, into a force that gave back to others what you had lost. The nights when you thought of Deshret were few, and each time his memory appeared in your dreams, it was less vivid, less painful. The faces of those you helped replaced their images, and your new life felt like a second birth. You had learned to let go of love and embrace the peace that came with distance.

V.

Centuries later, a familiar figure appeared before you: Rukkhadevata, clothed in the same serenity and compassion you had met years before. Her visit was not just a show of friendship; she came to ask for your help.

The Withering, a plague of corruption had ravaged the lands of Sumeru, and only your power of purification could help mitigate its advance.

“The Withering,” she explained to you, her voice heavy with gravity and despair, “is devouring our forests and withering the lands. Life itself is fading from our realm, and I fear my power is no longer enough to stop it.”

Rukkhadevata's request shook the delicate balance you had built in your heart. Returning to Sumeru meant facing what you left behind, the indifference you had cultivated. The memory of Deshret, now only a shadow, seemed insufficient to make you hesitate. However, the suffering of the land, the need to save the innocent, made you rethink your decision. This time, you would not return out of love, but out of duty.

VI.

Your return to Sumeru was solemn, without great ceremony or promises. When Deshret saw you for the first time, his gaze held wonder, pain, and something else that was harder to decipher. His lips, which had previously spoken only words of love for you, now only emitted pleas. He wanted your forgiveness, one last chance to redeem the harm he had caused you. But for you, the Deshret you loved had been buried in the sand, along with the promise you once shared.

“My queen…” he murmured in a trembling voice. “Is that you? I thought I had lost you forever… Please forgive me, I…”

His pleas echoed hollowly in your heart, and you looked at him with the same compassion you gave to all those you helped in Inazuma. His love was only a distant echo, and in that moment, you understood that there was no room in your heart for resentment or forgiveness, only for the peace you had found without him.

“Deshret,” you replied in a calm voice, “you are no longer my king, nor am I your queen. Time has erased the love that once existed. I have only returned to help my friend and fulfill my duty to this land.”

With one last look, you walked away from Deshret, letting the past burn in the sands.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[ronance4everbrainrot]

Some moooore little incorrect quotes from Descendants! This is gonna be a long one, sorry not sorry.

(with ships)

Audrey: *kisses Uma*

Uma: !

Audrey: ...Did you steal my chapstick?

Uma: Did- did I what?

Audrey: My chapstick, Uma. Did you steal it?

Ben: Audrey, for the love of God, not this again.

Uma: I- No, I didn't steal your chapstick. We use the same chapstick.

Audrey: No, there is absolutely no way we use the same chapstick, because it was only sold on one Etsy shop two years ago and they discontinued it, and I loved it so much that I bought the last of their stock, and I keep it in my freezer so it doesn't go bad. It's been discontinued for three years. No one uses the same chapstick for three years. So unless you've been eating a whole fuck ton of something that's flavored like chocolate and popcorn, you absolutely stole my fucking chapstick.

Uma: Chocolate and popcorn?

Ben: Why do you think it got discontinued?

(WHY IS THERE NO YELLOW! I DON'T WANT TO MAKE BEN BLUE! I ALREADY HAVE SO MANY BLUE ONES! Also slay and wtf? What a great start)

---

Ben: Do you think I'm plastic?

Audrey: No.

Ben: Phew. Oka-

Audrey: Plastic, at least, has some use in life. You're not plastic.

(Damn. What did he do to yo-..oh.. right.. yeah. I've also decided to make him Orange because it's close to yellow)

---

Ben: War is heck!

(facts)

---

Chad, to Ben: If my dad doesn't say "I'm King of the world" within an hour on that boat, I will give you my next pay check.

Charming, within 5 minutes of getting on the boat: I'M KING OF THE WORLD!!!

(Absolutely. Canon)

---

Audrey: God, if only someone loved me…

Uma: *standing behind them with roses*

Ben: *holding box of chocolates*

Chad: *has balloons and a card*

Mal: *facepalms* This is sad.

(Me: *holding a big Teddy Bear* lol I had a crush on her only in the Third movie. Loved her Queen of Mean Era)

---

Chloe: So, what is Red to you?

Maddox: The reason I wake up every morning.

Chloe: ...That’s adorable.

Red earlier that morning, barging into Maddox's room, smacking pans together: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!

(They've got this sibling bond)

---

Chloe: Are pigeons drones?

Chad: What? No, I'm trying to sleep.

Chloe: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES!

Chad: *Crying* Please let me sleep...

(Sibling sleepover. Also Chloe, your Mary Anne is showing)

---

Red: I intend to stay pissed at you forever.

Red: Even if I seem helpful.

Maddox: Then you're in luck.

Maddox: Because you don't.

(Canon)

---

Uma: Hello all, it is I, your favorite person.

Carlos: Actually, Jane is my favourite.

Uma: Okay then, it is I, that bitch.

(Yup and I love you. Carlos and Jane✨🫠)

---

Evie: I love making parties more interesting by telling strangers “I want you to know that I personally have no problem with you being here.”

(Sweet and dangerous. Perfect.)

---

Uma: Evie said its my turn with the brain cell.

Mal: Square up.

(lol. Canon.)

---

Uma: What starts with F and ends with Uck?

Chad: No it doesn't.

Jane: Firetruck!

Mal: FUCK!

(Mal speaks my mind. Jane is smart and Chad got the spirit. He's not wrong tho.)

---

Jay: Good morning. As you begin your day, remember that violence is always an option and often the answer.

Carlos:

Jay:

Carlos: ...Please, go back to bed.

(Jay loves to annoy everyone. Mostly Mal.)

---

Carlos: I can do anything I put my mind to. I once figured out Jane's phone number just by choosing random numbers.

(..why didn't you just ask? But also impressive)

---

Chad: What's the scariest horror movie you've ever watched?

Chloe: IT.

Dizzy: Annabelle.

Maddox: Paranormal Activity.

Red: High School Musical. All throughout high school I was scared that everyone was gonna randomly get up and start singing and dancing, and I would be the only one who doesn't know the words.

(Honestly just did this because Kylie was in the HSMTMTS. Honestly. They do that in Auradon too. So watch out)

---

Red: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?!

Chloe: ...

Red: Oh, right. The lying.

(Has she ever lied to Chloe? I don't think so. But I find the quote funny)

---

Evie: A mouse!

Mal, pulling out a knife: Go back to where you came from or I'll stab you.

Jay, pulling out a frying pan: It'll make a nice meal!

Carlos, giving the mouse cheese: You deserve a treat, little guy.

Gil, gasping: It's Ratatouille!

Harry: His name is Remi, dummy.

Evie: ...I was going to say to just trap it and throw it out the window... what is wrong with you people.

(um.. yeah.. you know what-)

Chloe: A mouse!

Dizzy, pulling out a knife: Go back to where you came from or I'll stab you.

Celia, pulling out a frying pan: It'll make a nice meal!

Maddox, giving the mouse cheese: You deserve a treat, little guy.

Chad, gasping: It's Ratatouille!

Red: His name is Remi, dummy.

Chloe: ...I was going to say to just trap it and throw it out the window... what is wrong with you people.

(just some family time)

---

Chad: Sometimes I like to call people by the wrong name to show them I don’t care about them.

Red: That’s brilliant.

Chad: Thank you, Maddox.

(yeah)

---

Jay: Everyone has a toxic trait. Except Carlos, they’re perfect.

Carlos: Wrong! My toxic trait is how badly I want to domesticate a raccoon.

(Facts. He is perfect)

---

Red: Hold the fuck up.

Chloe: Excuse me?

Red: I said hold the fuck up.

Chloe:

Red: I’m the fuck up, hold me.

(Aww...canon.. I mean she's not a fuck up. Maybe in her mother's eyes. But aww)

---

Jay: You know, there’s something weird going on with your face?

Mal: What?

Jay: You’re smiling! I didn’t know you could do that?

(Because she and Evie finally got together. UwU)

---

Evie: How do you tell someone their breath stinks?

Jay: Hey, I'm bored, let's drink mouthwash.

(He definitely did that with his teammates)

---

Jay: You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river.

Evie: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in their own pool. Big difference.

(Oof. Do I want to know?)

---

(Little surprise from the past)

Charming: Care to give a free sample to a pretty person?

Ella, manning a bake sale and tired of their shit: Sure! You know one?

Charming:

Charming: Care to give a free sample to an ugly person?

(he's trying)

---

Brigdet: I have a question.

Ella: Shoot.

Bridget: Is the S or C in scent silent?

Hook: Fuck you, I’m going to be thinking about this all day.

Ella: Okay well, cent is pronounced the same way as scent so I’m gonna say the S is silent.

Bridget: Okay, but sent is also spelled the same way.

Hook: Google says that the C was added in the late seventeenth century, so I guess the S is silent.

Morgie: Plot twist, both the S and the C are silent and the E actually makes the sss sound.

Hook: Morgie is not allowed to talk anymore.

(Just them having a double date)

---

Bridget: Made you all playlists!

Bridget: Hades and Maleficent, yours have only heavy metal, and is dark like your soul.

Bridget: Ella and Uliana, yours have sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression.

Bridget: Charming, Morgie and Hook have the ABBA Gold album.

(she knows them well)

---

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Ella: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Bridget: ...I did. I broke it.

Ella: No. No you didn't. Uliana?

Uliana: Don't look at me. Look at Morgie.

Morgie: What?! I didn't break it.

Uliana: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Morgie: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Uliana: Suspicious.

Morgie: No, it's not!

Hook: If it matters, probably not, but Maleficent was the last one to use it.

Maleficent: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Hook: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Maleficent: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, James!

Bridget: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Ella.

Ella: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Hook: Ella... Hades has been awfully quiet.

Hades: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Ella, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Ella: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Ella:

Ella: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

(Damn Ella)

---

Bridget: It’s just that lollipop sticks last longer than the head, even if they’re less flavorful. I’m thinking of paper sticks, because you can peel off the layers with your teeth or leave it there until they fall off naturally, but plastic sticks can be chewed on too or left sticking out like a cigarette. Paper straws can be eaten layer by layer over time though, so they have the edge.

Morgie, bored: Can’t we just leave while they’re distracted?

Ella, genuinely interested: But what about wooden sticks?

Morgie: I hate you.

(No. It doesn't taste good and it's flaky? I don't like the paper ones. I like the plastic ones. Love to chew on them, tastes neutral ig idk. Wooden sticks tho. Taste great. And you can chew on them. But they break easily and you could get a splinter I think? But still Wooden wins for me. Plastic second and then paper)

---

Hope you liked it!

This was a bit longer.

Sorry not sorry.

Byeee.

[fanficsat12am]

when the brothers realize how much MC loves them I Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜

Lucifer & Mammon

Happy New Year everyone!! Hope ya guys had a great flippin holiday time :> As always, notes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated <33 Have fun reading!!

Leviathan

Putting himself down was second nature to him at this point—sometimes he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It especially got even worse after getting into a relationship with you. His mind refused to believe that anyone could ever love someone like him. 

Levi dreaded the day you’d finally see what he sees and ultimately decide to leave, but he wouldn't hold it against you. Why would you settle for someone like him when there were countless others in the three realms who could give you so much more…

“Hey, you okay?” you asked worriedly, noticing his glazed look and how his eyes had dimmed. “O-of course I’m fine! Pft, why would I be lol,” he stumbles out, trying to keep up his facade—but of course, you saw through it. 

As he tries to get back to his game he can feel your eyes piercing him. 

“I’m going to ask you how you are one more time and I would like you to answer me honestly,” gently taking the controller in his hands from him and placing it aside. “Now tell me, what’s up?”

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, the words not too foreign to his tongue. 

“If this is about last week I've already told yo-” “Ugh, that’s not what I meant…” he cuts you off, trying to find the right words. 

“I-it’s just…you could have had ANYBODY else, but instead you’re stuck with me. I can’t 1v1 Beel's body, Diavolo’s money, Asmo’s looks- heck even stupid Mammon’s got charm! I'm just Levi, the plain old third-born…” he bites his lip, trying to keep his tears at bay. His efforts proved futile as he felt its warm trickle slowly dripping down his face, one after the other.

A part of him wanted to take back everything he just said—to restart and pick a different approach. But this wasn’t another one of his games. This was real life, and in here you've only got one shot. It was game over, he knew he had lost. 

He shut his eyes tight, listening closely for the sound of you finally walking out those doors. He couldn't bear to watch you leave him. 

You shake your head at the absurdity of his words, cupping his face into your hand. “I’m not stuck with you, silly. I choose to be here.”

Opening his eyes back again he's met with you smiling at him, the sight making his heart skip a beat. 

“I’m here because I can’t get enough of you. I love how your cheeks would go red when I catch you staring at me,” you say, leaning closer and leaving a kiss on his cheek. 

“How your brows would furrow and your eyes would squint whenever you’re focused on your game,” sending a kiss by the bridge of his nose. 

You gently grab his wrist and fumble on the soft skin of his palms with the pads of your thumb. “How you’d start gesturing with your hands a lot when you talk about the latest anime you’re into,” you reminisce, another kiss now to the back of his hand. 

“How right before you fall asleep, you hold me closer and whisper to the dead of the night how much you love me,” you say as you end it with a tender kiss to his lips. 

“And each day I find myself falling for you even more. They could try to give me the whole world, but they’ll never be you. So please, stop thinking you need to earn my affection because you don't. Not now and not ever.” 

You lift his face up to meet your gaze, looking at him as if you see right through him. “There is nothing I would change about you. You are perfect in my eyes.”

He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He was left speechless, his mind going haywire with everything you had just said. 

Seeing how his brain had completely stopped working, he let his body do all the talking instead. He wordlessly wrapped you in a tight embrace, cherishing the warmth of your body against his. 

The bitter taste of the sin he was meant to represent felt absent. Levi sensed no need to be envious of others when he had someone like you to call his.

Satan

Not once had he let himself think that he could indulge himself in something such as love—for wrath did not deserve the peace of love. While love held everything together in its warm embrace, wrath tirelessly tore with its cold unforgiving hands. 

Despite their differences, there was no denying that both were blind. Just like a moth, you were entranced by the beautiful embers of his flame, blissfully indifferent to the heat. 

He stared at his reflection with disdain. The obsidian black horns adorning his head felt heavier the longer he looked, not to mention the tail that whipped mindlessly on its own. He gritted his teeth in disgust, delivering a blow to the mirror that sent it hurdling to the ground. Through his ragged breaths and the rapid beating of his heart, he hears a voice not of his own. 

"Satan?" you called, breaking him from his trance-like state. You softly closed his door behind you, hands outstretched and unsteady. 

With each step you took, he took two back—his mind screaming at him to stay away from you but his heart yearning to leap into your hold. 

"Hey, it's okay," you reassured, taking a step towards him. 

"No it's not!" he screams, backing away from your approaching form. 

Hearing the crunch of glass under the weight of his shoes, he takes notice of the mirror he broke just moments ago. Reflected on its cracked surface was a distorted image of him; a monster.

"Please, let me help," you pleaded, trying to close the gap between you. He hastily steps back, tripping on his own feet and leaving him a heap on the floor. 

"Don't come any closer!" he screams, the room shaking with the sheer volume of his voice. You kneel to his level, quickly engulfing him in your arms. 

‘Run. He doesn't deserve you. Just stay away.’ He repeated in his head like a silent prayer, hoping that by some miracle it would come true. 

But as he felt you hold him tighter, he knew you would do nothing of the sort. As he trembled in your arms, he wills himself to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind since the day you'd started dating. 

"Why?" he whispered softly, almost inaudible if not for the heavy silence of the night. "I could lose control. Why do you insist on staying? To even consider feeling anything for a monster such as myself is just…foolish."

You think about your answer carefully, knowing that what you say next will mend or break the man in your hold. "Loving someone takes courage. To trust someone with your heart and believe they would keep it safe. Keep you safe. Let the three realms call me foolish but there's no doubt in my mind that I love you, Satan. Not the Avatar of Wrath, you Satan,'' you answer truthfully, pouring every ounce of your heart into each word.  

Gently taking hold of his chin, you tilt his head up to meet your eyes. "Tell me now Satan, will you hurt me?" you ask, the demon shaking his head immediately. He wouldn't dream of ever wishing to cause harm to you. He would die first before anybody, let alone himself, hurt you. 

"Then it is not foolish of me to love you" you say, your words unfaltering. 

Tears welled in his eyes, accepting defeat at the hands of your love and melting deeper into your embrace. As he lays on your chest, he turns to face where your heart would be and whispers an oath. "I love you, MC. I shall protect you with my life" he vows, sealing his promise with a kiss.

Asmodeus

As the Avatar of Lust and the Jewel of the Heavens, he was always the talk of the town. You, on the other hand, weren’t too familiar with the gossip world. Although you knew that was going to change once you officially became a couple. 

You took no mind to it, brushing them off with a small wave knowing that the wrong move could only add more oil to their flame. But Asmo wasn’t like you. He could feel all the looks they gave him, the incessant whispers and murmurs whenever he’d turn his back. 

He typically had no care for whatever lies people have heard about him. The same could not be said though when they had the audacity to include you into the mix. It was slowly chewing away at him and he couldn’t deny the pit of doubt slowly churning inside him.

“I saw MC out with one of the brothers last week. They’ve been getting closer recently. I wonder what happened between them"

"I saw them leaving school with Simeon yesterday, I’m surprised that’d cheat on Asmo with someone like him” 

”They’ve got the most powerful people of the Devildom wrapped around their finger and they’re still with Asmo? Damn”

The final blow was realizing that everything was better without him in the picture. Your smile wasn't just bright, it was brighter, you weren't just happy, you were happier. 

He slams his door shut, sliding down the wooden surface as he feels his legs give underneath him.

‘Can’t you see? They were never the problem. No matter what you do, you could never satisfy them. Once again you've proved to be useless.��

‘You think they’d just be swayed by your face? By the number of followers you have? Underneath it all you're nothing. It's just pathetic.’

He shook his head, gripping and pulling on his delicate sand blonde hair. No matter how hard he cupped his hands over his ears, their words never ceased. His eyes pricked with tears, months of silent torture finally finding his moment of weakness.  

You on the other hand were beyond worried. You were no stranger to Asmo’s flamboyant walk outs but this was different. As you neared the door to his room, you could hear silent sobs and cries on the other side. Knocking softly, you worriedly call out to him.

“Asmo?” The sobbing stops, rendering the halls eerily silent. “Darling, what’s wrong? Can I come in?” Still no response. 

Asmo freezes at the sound of your voice, the loud thumping of his heart drowning out the constant knocking on his door. An internal conflict rages within him. Not only is the person causing all this mess of emotions on the other side of the door, but the only one who can make it all go away as well. 

“Please talk to me. I need to know that you’re alright.” Just as you’re deciding if you should get some help from the others, the door opens. From it, a hand grabs your wrist, swiftly pulling you inside and closing the door. 

Looking around, the usually bright and pinkish room was cold and dark. You could barely see anything with the only light coming from his window. 

The crisp silence of the night was cut by the uneven breathing of Asmo who was still by the door. You reach out to gently place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sweetie?” you call, fingertips only a few milliliters away, when his voice stops you in your tracks. 

“Do you love me?” he whispers. 

“Of course I do,” you answer immediately, not missing a beat. 

You gently grab him by the shoulder and turn him to face you, your heart breaking at the sight of your lover being in so much turmoil. 

“Oh, Asmo…” your hand tenderly holds his cheek, the other wiping away the tears that have yet to cease from falling. 

“Each day, I hear another rumor about you finding somebody else…” he pauses, taking a deep shuddering breath. “If you’re going to do it, please just do it already and save me the mascara.”

He knows that watching you leave will hurt more than any hangover can ever do to him. It would be like he was falling from the pristine white gates of Celestia again, powerless as he saw all he held dear fade into a memory of what he had once had.

He could try to convince himself that the rumors were true. That you were only ever with him for his fame and looks and that he never cared about you. But of all the lies that have circulated, that would have been the biggest one.

“Honey, I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever,” you say as you tuck a lock behind his ear. “If you think I’d ever love someone after you then I have failed in showing you how much you mean to me.”

Through blurred vision, Asmo tries to find an ounce of deceit within the windows to your soul; a malicious grin, a break in eye contact, a drop of sweat. Nothing. 

He lets out a shuddering breath he didn’t know he was holding, pressing his soft hands upon your own and interlacing it with his. It was stupid of him to ever doubt your feelings for him. To hell with what they thought of the both of you. All he cared about now was now, being here in your hold, forever.

“You’re so cute sometimes, darling…" he whispers in amusement, a small smile finally making its way onto his lips. 

“Please tell me I still look fabulous even after all that tears. Ugh, my eyes are gonna be so puffed up tomorrow!” 

You chuckle at his comment, happy to see him start coming back to you. “Still ever so stunning, My Prince.”

“Let’s stay like this for just a bit more, hm? All this crying made me tired. Then after, we can run a nice warm bath for the two of us. Doesn't that sound wonderful?” He murmured, melting more into your touch.  

“Whatever you’d like, darling,” you replied, pressing your forehead to his. 

And there you stayed, forehead to forehead, hands intertwined, just you and him in the comfort of each other's touch.

AN: Thanks a bunch for reading!! Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments <33

[mrsrookhunt]

Petit Chasseur

Rook Hunt x Reader

Synopsis: In crewel's class, the task at hand is to transform a tadpole into a frog with a transformation potion, so how is it that you and Rook happened to transform your tadpole into a baby...?

Warnings: None, but MC is apparently a third year because I accidentally wrote for Rook being part of Potionology instead of the Science club and got way too far in before I realized it. This is how you and Rook started a family and lived happily ever after

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"Ah-? You say that's the right ingredient, but I assure you it was--"

"Too late!" You laughed, dropping a sprig of pine into the mixture, which had previously been just the right consistency and color.

It bubbled and smelled of sickly rotten flowers.

Rook gave an theatrical sigh. "Mon tricksteur, that was the last of our ingredients.. We were already warned that we shall not be supplied with more."

You frowned at the textbook. It didn't give you the list of ingredients, which Professor Crewel had listed at the beginning of the lesson. Still, you were certain it called for a sprig of pine. But the cauldron should have been filled with a light, sticky substance, and instead it was filled with something so gooey, Rook was having trouble stirring it the appropriate amount of paces.

"Hmm... what'd you think it was supposed to be, Rook?"

"It was two drops of liquid silver."

"Damn, are you totally sure?"

He gestured to the mixtures of the rest of the class, which bore a much closer resemblance to the intended result.

"Oui. If not, the whole class, myself included, must have had a mass hallucination."

"Aww..." You face palmed. "How do we fix this?" You asked out of exasperation, hoping he had a better answer.

"No ingredient that comes mind is in our possession. We shall have to turn it in as it is, sadly."

He stopped stirring and ladled it into a vial.

"Isolate a tadpole for me, s'il te plaît ."

"Yeah, but what's it gonna do?"

He laughed and shrugged. "We'll see."

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"It's two drops over the tadpole--"

"one, Two, THREE, there we go-- oh. Um. Two?"

Rook snickered. "Remind me never to partner with you again, Mon Tricksteur."

The tadpole stopped moving.

"Is it... dead?" You asked, as you watched in horror over the poor thing, layed out on a tray in shallow water.

"Hmm. Perhaps three drops was too much? Our potion had all the components for a basic transformation potion, the sprig shouldn't have affected it's transformative properties, only the outcome, so--"

The tadpole shivered as if coming back to life; Its flesh began to ripple with different colors and shapes as it mutated into a large, multicolored creature.

"Uhh--- Rook, that seems a little uhmmm, BIG FOR A FROG---"

You knocked Rook into the ground in your attempt to back up, taking the tray and the undulating creature down with you, to your horror.

You braced yourself for contact with the squishy thing, and felt something heavy hit your lap.

Rook picked it up swiftly before you even opened your eyes.

"Mon dieu! I've never seen such a thing."

You opened one of your tightly shut eyes to see a Rook staring in reverent awe at a tiny, cute baby bearing resemblance to him.

"What? What IS THAT---"

"Don't yell, you'll upset the poor thing. And would you look at that? It looks a bit like you too, doesn't it?"

The baby cooed as Rook brought it to his chest with one arm, holding it gently, while the baby outstretched its tiny little arms in your direction.

He put the baby against your crossed arms.

"The baby wants your touch," He said softly, watching as the baby nuzzled against your arm.

"Nuh-uh, no way, that is NOT a baby--"

"Transformation potions are thorough. The baby is, in fact, a baby."

"Still, I don't want to touch it, it's creepy--- why does it look like us??"

Rook took the feather from his cast-aside hat to tickle the baby with.

"If I had to take a guess, I'd say perhaps it was the third drop. The little nourrisson took on the appearance of you and I because we were the first to touch it. It fell on both of us at the same time."

"S-so now what do we do?" You reluctantly touched the baby, who was cuter than you'd like to admit.

"Tell the professor and let him sort the matter out."

He turned over the baby to you as he went to get the professor.

You held the infant, which cooed and fussed like a normal human baby, but looked eerily like you and Rook, bearing his rich blonde hair and green eyes, but your chin and cheekbones, and even the way your hair naturally parted.

You gave up your fingers to the child, who was fascinated by them.

You saw Rook speaking to the professor, but your attention was diverted back to the baby, who had begun crying when you focused on something else.

You shushed it gently.

"It's alright, little one.. we'll get this ironed out."

Bleary green eyes stared back at you as if to say, 'You better.'

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"It's permanent."

"You're kidding--"

You were already back at the Ramshackle dorm, feeding the baby with formula you'd had to beg and plead for Sam to find on such short notice.

"Non, I'm afraid not. The Professor looked extensively. There is no cure to this."

"So what do we do then? We can't just... keep it!"

Rook dropped down to the ground to tickle the baby, who was lying on a soft blanket.

"I think that we must. It's our responsibility, and the baby is biologically ours, so--"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE BABY IS BIOLOGICALLY OURS?"

Your heart was racing out of your chest. What does this even mean for the two of you? You've always liked Rook, but not enough to throw yourself into raising a child with him-!

"You're shouting again, Mon Tricksteur. Oui, the baby is biologically ours, since it shares the equal traits of us both. We shall have to raise our dear infant."

Rook was on his knees beside you, amusing the baby with funny expressions and little exclamations of wonder.

Where would you go? You couldn't take care of a baby in a world you weren't familiar with, in which you had no one and nothing. Nothing but Rook, who had quite the full family of his own. Would they even accept this? Would they even like you?

Not even to speak of the challenges of raising a child, especially while going to school. Outside of your free-time, where would you even find the time to raise a baby?

Rook planted a kiss on your forehead, chuckling lightly.

"You're too nervous, my dear. You need to find the heart of passion, and throw yourself to the wind. I see it written across your face-- but there's no need to worry. I'm here for you."

You picked up the baby, cradling the small little bundle while Rook rested his arm across your back, taking in the scene. You were a family now. You were parents, so suddenly, so absolutely by surprise. And yet, as you were starting to warm up to the sweet child, you realized just how lucky you were to have Rook by your side, and a baby to love with him.

"Ah~ Mon Amour and my petit chasseur~"

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French vocabulary that I definitely did not get from Google translate:

s'il te plaît: please

Mon dieu: my god

nourrisson: infant/baby

Petit chasseur : Little hunter

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-June 28th, 2023

-Kaori

[gracieheartspedro]

Cool About It

it's here. the third and final part!

joel miller x fem! reader

Description: it's been over a year with joel and some things have just fallen apart. you miss him, more than you'd like to admit. after some time apart, you find yourself at tommy's christmas party. your recent endeavours catch up with you, and joel doesn't like the way it's looking.

Part 3/3

Links for Part 1 Part 2

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, very angsty, age gap, joel being very protective, use of homophobic slang, guy being creepy towards reader, very smutty, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, pet names

Author's Note: I'm so happy to bring this final part to you beautiful people. I've loved writing this series so much! Thank you for your patience and kindness. please leave feedback, I love hearing from you guys.

Once, I took your medication to know what it's like

And now I have to act like I can't read your mind

I ask you how you're doing and I let you lie

But we don't have to talk about it

I can walk you home and practice method acting

I'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning

Tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing

Even though we know it isn't true

“So are you and Joel going to work it out?” 

It was a question bearing on your mind for months. You really didn’t want to hear it from Ellie.

You and Joel had officially been broken up for three months after seeing each other for over a year. It was never a concrete thing, the foundation of your relationship was cracked due to some unresolved trauma from both of your pasts. Joel was in the same boat as you when it came to not being able to cope with his grief. His daughter being taken from him so young, the horrors he went through trying to survive the end of the world, and of course the deep and complex relationship he had with Ellie. You had a lot of unsettled trauma from losing your entire family and being alone for most of your life. You also always had this sinking feeling that he was not telling you the full story about the last couple years. He seemed hesitant to discuss how he found Ellie in the first place. You could tell there was some awkward tension and unresolved issues between the two of them. You just wanted to help.

He started drinking a whole lot towards the tail end of the relationship and you weren’t sure why. He’d stumble back home drunk, not even able to kiss you goodnight. 

It was getting complicated. He was terrible about communicating his feelings and you were too stubborn to accept you were ever wrong. 

Of course, there were good times. Like all of the Saturday nights going out dancing with Tommy and Maria. The game nights with Ellie. Sitting outside on his front porch with nothing but his guitar, making you sing songs only your father would know.

You missed him terribly. But you knew it was for the better. It has to be for the better. 

Ellie sits next to you at the annual Christmas party which was hosted by Maria and Tommy. They usually did it at their house, but with a toddler, it just didn’t seem realistic there anymore. So instead, they had it at the large food hall and invited all of Jackson. 

You glance over at her, your eyes glazed over from all the alcohol you’d been consuming. 

That was another thing. You couldn’t stop drinking, now. It was the only way you could get to sleep at night. You had even started going to the Tipsy Bison every night to get wasted and on some rare occasions, have a guy take you home. 

You were almost positive Joel was sleeping with one of the other patrol leaders too, a girl named Kelly. She had made eyes at him before you two got together. You’d seen them around a couple times, just talking and getting close. The first time you saw them, you got wasted at the Bison and threw up your entire breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

It only made you want to get over him faster, so having those guys take you home was a distraction. But you’d never fully admit that.

“I don’t know, kid,” Is all you could think to say to Ellie. Your mind was muddled with stupid emotions and disgusting whiskey. 

“He’s nicer when you’re around. Now, he’s just… angry.”

You felt bad. But you couldn’t fall back into that routine with Joel. Fight, makeup, fight again. There was an extreme disconnect in communication. It was exhausting. 

You stand up on wobbly legs, “I’m gonna go grab ‘nother drink. You want somethin’?”

Ellie was technically underage but you knew she drank with her friends sometimes. She looked at you with a bit of contempt. 

“No, thanks.”

You shrug, sauntering back over to the bar. 

You notice a familiar silhouette at the end of the bar, but don’t bother glancing that direction. You knew he was watching you and Ellie talking a second ago, his eyes always trailing you. You didn’t want to look over and see Kelly beside him, so you act like he isn’t even there. 

“Another whiskey, pleaseeee,” You beg the bartender standing nearby. He doesn’t look too happy about serving you more, but you had lost all sense of self control about an hour ago and he knew that by the look on your face. He pours you some more dark liquor and sends you on your way. 

As soon as you turn to walk away, you spot another familiar face walking directly towards you. 

Josh Hall.

He was one of the guys you slept with. He was a nice guy, kinda. He was a know it all, shallow, and a bit arrogant. So maybe not a nice guy. 

You slept with him twice, both times when you were drunk. From what you could remember, he didn’t make you cum. 

He was only a bit taller than you, blonde hair and blue eyes. He was cute enough to get into your pants. But every time you thought about any other man, you reminded yourself that it wasn’t Joel.

“Hey there,” You try not to slur, “How are ya?”

“Hi beautiful,” He grabs your hand, pulling you in for what you assume is a kiss. You wince, directing his lips to your cheek. He presses his chapped lips against your skin. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to avoid the gazes of the people around you. You could feel his eyes on you even from 50 feet away. 

“Thought you’d wanna come dance with me,” He has his hand slipping around your waist. You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. He knew you were drinking, your glass swaying right in front of his face.

Your red flags are raising quickly. Josh never approached you any other times of the day. Never during patrols, never just around town. He only showed interest when you had a glass of liquor in your hand. 

“I am actually bringing this drink to someone, so please get off of me,” You lie, trying to get him away. 

You had to be patient with a guy like Josh. He could be pushy sometimes, so you had to be firm but sweet. You wouldn’t want to start a stir at a party with a bunch of families, right?

But he wasn’t letting go. 

His eyes were piercing into yours. You could tell he was drinking, his eyes a bit glassy like yours. You hadn’t even seen him come into the party. It’s like he just appeared to make you mad. 

“Just have one dance with me,” His breath stunk of alcohol and unbrushed plaque. You wanted to vomit.

“No, I need to bring this drink to someone.”

His grip is getting progressively tighter and he’s walking you backward.

“Who? Who’s drink is it? New boyfriend?”

You swallow hard, not knowing who to say.

“It’s for Ellie.”

He smirks, “You givin’ an underage dyke a drink? Don’t think her daddy would like that.”

Something in you flips. Rage. Pure unadulterated rage. Your body doesn’t even give your brain a moment to mull over your next move. You throw the drink on the ground, the glass shattering all over the floor. You step back, finally breaking away from him. 

“What did you just fuckin’ say?!”

He releases you, backing up. He had this offended look on his face, like you had kicked a puppy. 

Liar.

It made you even more mad.

“What did you say, Josh?” You emphasize his name, never breaking eye contact, “You fuckin’ call her that again I’ll fucking kill you.”

You stomp forward, your hands reaching up to him. You had never snapped so quickly in your life. Something about him saying negative about Ellie made your protective maternal instinct go into overdrive. Ellie meant a lot to you, especially after spending the last year with her and Joel.

Your fingers wrap around his scrawny little throat. He was trying to back away, but a table stopped all his movements. He was pinned. 

“You fuckin’ dare talk about her or anyone I fuckin’ know, I will make sure you never utter another wor-“ You feel hands around your waist, pulling you back from possibly choking him out. It almost takes the wind out of you. Your hands let go of his neck, but not without digging your fingernails into his skin. 

You are so blindsided, you don’t even know who has a grip on you. 

“Hey, hey, stop!” His voice is familiar. Almost Joel’s, but not. 

No, because Joel is instead grabbing Josh from the spot you pinned him to. You look back and see Tommy, his face panicked and confused.

You watch as Joel grabs Josh by the shirt, throwing him towards the middle of the dance floor. A bunch of people are standing around watching Josh stumble, trying to gain his composure. The music completely stops, bringing the hall to complete silence. Joel doesn’t give him enough time to stand up straight. You try to push Tommy off of you, but he’s got an iron grip on you. 

“What did he say?” Joel yells towards you, gesturing towards Josh. Everyone has completely stopped what they are doing to watch the scene unfold. 

You look towards where Ellie is, her face twisted in horror. Jesse stands next to her, his face serious. You know this is probably embarrassing for her, so all the anger leaves your body, replaced with guilt and shame.

“Joel,” You warn, “Please.”

Joel was extremely protective when you two were together. Ever since you two split, he has tried his very hardest to not snap. Once he sees a man’s hands on you, though, he can’t help but let fury fill his entire being. Tonight was no exception except this time, you got violent before he could. Which only meant you had no other choice. You usually keep a calm exterior, trying not to step on anyone’s toes. When you drink, you’re actually sweeter and more complacent. 

“What did he say?”

Instead of you saying anything, Maria steps in. She wedges herself between Joel and Josh, making sure neither one of them takes another step. 

“Cool it!” She yells, her eyes flying over to you being held back by Tommy. 

“He better get his ass out of this tow-“

“Shut it, Joel,” She warns, reaching out for his arm, “Let’s take a walk.”

“‘m not going anywhere,” His voice is booming which sends a chill down your spine, “Get this fucker out of here and away from her.”

He looks towards you, Tommy slowly loosening his grip on your upper body. You wiggle out, trying to steady your breathing. You didn’t even realize that you were panting like a dog.

You’ve completely sobered up. The dizziness you feel is just from adrenaline.

Maria guides Josh to the door, listening to him rant about his side of the story. You look back at Tommy, who’s obviously taken aback by the way you snapped. He’s never seen you so mad.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Tommy. He just said something about Ellie,” You whisper it, trying to ensure Joel didn’t hear. You know well enough that if he found out the words Josh uttered, he would have a pistol between the poor guy’s eyes. 

“I think you need to go home and cool down,” Tommy suggests, “This is not the place for that.”

You felt horrible. Everyone’s eyes were still on you. You nod, understanding Tommy’s reasonings for practically kicking you out of the party. He gestures Joel over, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“I’m gonna have someone walk her home,” He nods to you, “Would you be willin’ to or should I ask Jesse?”

Joel shakes his head, “I’ll get her home.”

“I can get home myself,” You retort, trying to regain some sort of control over the situation. You didn’t want Jesse or Joel walking you home, it felt like a walk of shame times a million.

“Get her home safe, Joel,” Tommy remarks, tapping you on the shoulder. He wasn’t giving you an option. 

You step over the shattered glass, while Joel guides you to the door. You felt so humiliated, not knowing what face to make at the people who were scowling you. So you keep your head down, grabbing your coat from the chair beside Ellie. Joel is trailing behind you. You look up for a second, meeting Ellie’s brown eyes. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” You mumble, “For everything.”

She shakes her head, her lips thin, “It’s okay. Get home safe.”

Joel taps your shoulder, nodding his head towards the door. You put your winter coat on, pulling out your hair that’s stuck between it and your thermal.

It was snowing, soft pillows of white ice covering all of Jackson. You breathe out a loud sigh when you get outside, while Joel shuts the dinner hall door. 

You didn’t know what to say to him, really. You felt like he shouldn’t have stepped in, but deep down you were glad he did because it probably put the fear of God into Josh. Maybe he won’t ever speak to you again.  

When you start on your journey home, you and Joel are silent. You hadn’t spoken much since your separation. You two got into a huge blowout fight in which the both of you said some pretty terrible things to each other. It was the first and last time you yelled at Joel. 

“Why can’t I just make my own decisions?”

“You almost got yourself killed! You almost got Ellie killed. How the fuck am I supposed to react? Just let you two back on patrol like nothin’ happened!? No fuckin’ way. You’re not going back out unless I’m with you.”

Your heart was going to beat out of your chest, “I had it under fucking control, Joel! You always find ways to blame me for something! I brought her home. I did. You weren’t fucking there because you were too fucked up to even get up this morning,” You knew that stung, the way his face twisted in disgust, “You’re the last person on Earth to make decisions for me or Ellie.”

You struck a nerve, you could tell by the deadly serious look on his face. 

“You don’t know what’s good for, Ellie. Stop actin’ like you fuckin’ do. You have manipulated her to believe she knows what’s good for her. She doesn’t, okay?”

He couldn’t be serious. 

“You’re not even her real father, Joel. She is going to remember all the times you shut her down and made her feel like she didn’t have a choice. Is it really worth your pride?”

He slams his fist on the table, “Get the fuck out!”

You accept that as the end of the conversation and the relationship. 

You start to walk through the slush, knowing you had a good 15 minute walk home. You felt sick with anxiety.

“How have you been doin’?” 

You laugh, “Fuckin’ fantastic, Joel.”

“Yeah me too,” He lies. He clears his throat before continuing, “So, what did he say?”

“Drop it Joel,” You warn, a hiccup coming up your throat, “Let’s just not talk about it ever again.”

“I’ll get it out of ya one day,” He comments, zipping up his jacket some more. You shake your head, chuckling a bit at the absurdity.

“You didn’t have to step in,” You add, “I had it handled. Like I always do.”

His pace picks up, matching yours. 

“Wrapping your hands around ‘nother guys throat is not very you, darlin’,” He says, grabbing your arm to halt your next step, “He had to of said something pretty bad for you to throw your drink and choke him out in front of a bunch of people.”

You knew what he was trying to do. He wanted to lure it out of you, but you weren’t caving. He was good at making it seem like there was no choice other than tell him what happened. 

“Guess you’ll never know, Miller,” You tug your arm away, “Tommy said you’d walk me home, not interrogate me.”

He huffs, “You are so stubborn.”

You stop mid step, turning to look him in the eye. You couldn’t believe your ears. 

“You’re the one to talk, Joel.”

“And you need to quit the drinkin’. Makes you sloppy.”

His tone was condescending and for him to call you out on drinking? No fucking way.

“You sure were sloppy the last couple times I saw you drinkin’. Remember the four patrol shifts you had last summer you couldn’t get to cause you were too fucked up the night before? Or how about a couple weeks ago when you tried to fight that guy at the Bison?”

He takes note of your aggressive tone. You weren’t just going to cower your head and take his shit. 

Maybe you were using the drinking to not think about the fact that you missed his stupid ass. Maybe it was to medicate the anxiety that rattled your bones every time he slipped your mind. Either way, he was such a hypocrite for trying to use that against you. Make it seem like he wasn’t doing that same thing when you were still together. 

“I’ve quit all the drinkin’… and hey, he called you a name,” He mumbles, “Had to put him in his place.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his statement, “What do you mean he called me a name?”

He continues to walk, almost trying to physically dodge the question. But if he was going to be persistent, you were going to be, too.

“Joel-“

“Garrett said you were whoring yourself out to him and a couple of the other guys. Called you a slut,” He confesses, not looking towards you at all.

You felt sick to your stomach. Garrett was a guy you had patrolled with, a guy who seemed really nice to your face. The same guy Joel gave a black eye to. 

“I’ve only slept with like, two other people.”

You could tell it rattled him a bit. It was a statement he couldn’t be mad at, really. He was a man with needs, too. 

“Well, the word’s gettin’ around. He said you told him he had the best dick you’ve ever had,” He laughed as the words slipped his tongue, “God knows that’s ain’t true.”

You push your hands into your pockets, “I never slept with him. It’s only been Josh and…”

You stop yourself, instantly feeling sick to your stomach at the next name that almost came out your mouth. It was something you regretted so deeply in every fiber of your being. Something you tried to forget the very second the interaction.

“Who else?”

“No one,” You say, trying to steady your voice, “None of your business.”

“It was Jesse, wasn’t it?”

Caught.

You cough, clearing your throat. You never wanted to talk about this to anyone, let alone Joel. You were desperate and no other guys really made you feel appreciated. 

The wind picks up, which causes the snow to billow towards your face and take your breath away.

“Can we just,” You shake your head, trying to get the hair out of your face, “Can we just discuss this when we get to my house?”

He leads the way, moving quickly. You follow close behind, almost using his body as a shield from the snowstorm. When you finally see your house through your frosted lashes, you feel some sense of relief. 

Joel walks up to your front porch, gesturing to you to lead the way. You knew you’d have to light a fire in the living room and warm up the small abode, so once you open the door, you rush to your fireplace. You stack wood, not taking much mind to Joel who’s kicking off his shoes and removing his coat. 

You didn’t want to do this with him. You didn’t want to discuss anything, explain yourself, or hash out any unresolved bullshit. After the night you had, you wanted to carry yourself straight to bed. 

“Want help?”

You crouch down, flicking a match into the pit, igniting the old coals. 

“No, I got it, Joel.”

He huffs, sitting down on your slouchy red couch. Nothing in your house was particularly nice, but you kept it clean and tidy. Everything had a spot, except for the man taking up space before you.

“So,” He slaps his hands on his knees, “You want to explain or?”

“No Joel,” You respond, “I don't feel like I owe you an explanation, truthfully. I honestly don’t wanna rehash all this shit with you.”

His lips tighten into a half smirk, “Okay, that’s fine.”

Silence fills the room again. You were shocked he didn’t press it further, but a bit relieved. 

“Just wanna ask one thing,” He grumbles. You stand up straight, shimmying your coat down your arms.

“What?”

“Was his dick the best one you’ve ever had?”

You feel like all the air has left your body. 

“What?”

“Jesse. Josh. Were they the best you’ve ever had?”

Hearing their names made you cringe. You knew your answer, but you wonder if you should indulge him in the truth.

He knew it already, but he wanted to hear it from your lips. The haze and exhaustion from the crazy evening makes the confession slip from your lips. 

“Joel,” You whisper, “You know damn well they aren’t shit compared to you.”

It’s like you blinked and he’s on you. His hands slide up your waist, grabbing your hips and pulling you into a bruising kiss. You don’t pull away because this is what you’ve been wanting. 

The sex with Joel was like nothing else. Maybe your relationship was rocky. Maybe you hated the way he spoke to you sometimes. Maybe you hated the way he tried to control every little thing. 

But the sex made it all worth it.

The way his hands molded around your body. His lips trailing up and down from your neck to your calves. He knew your body better than you probably knew it yourself. He never walked away from an encounter without making you cum several times. He could play you like his guitar. 

You two are falling all over your furniture to make it to the couch. He sits down, holding you close while you straddle his thighs. He’s not letting up, his kisses feverish and hurried. 

You pull away to catch your breath. His pupils are huge and his lips are already swollen. 

“What are we doing?” You whisper, using your thumb to brush across his pink lips. 

“This is what we do, baby,” He grabs your ass, pulling you flush with his crouch, “We fight and fuck. That’s all we do.”

You lean up, grinding down on his growing bulge. 

“I shouldn’t want to, but fuck,” You throw your head back, trying to ease the throbbing you feel, “I always want you, Joel.”

“I always want you too, sweetheart,” His hand finds the back of your neck, rubbing circles into the sides while you grind yourself on his lap, “I don’t want any other pussy but yours. No one else compares.”

You smile in sick pleasure, “We are so fuckin’ toxic, Joel Miller.”

He laughs, pulling your head forward. Your eyes meet his and it’s a sudden realization that you two are just actually insane. That after all the bullshit you put each other through, your horniness always wins. He wants you just as much as you want him, and yet you two can never figure out how to work problems out like actual adults.

“Tell me you don’t fuckin’ like it that way,” He trails a kiss up your neck to earlobe, “And I’ll stop right now. Leave you alone forever. Keep your dirty little secret that you like to fuck guys half your age.”

The rise Joel Miller can get out of you should be studied. He knows exactly how to push every button you’ve ever had, even the one’s you didn’t know existed. The idea of people knowing you fucked Jesse makes your stomach twist, especially since he was Ellie’s friend. 

You and Joel’s age gap never really bothered you. Maybe it was because he was older than you, but he didn’t feel that much older than you. You felt ancient with Jesse and even Josh. Joel made you feel like you were on the same level with a man.

You stop grinding on him, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him back to meet your gaze. He’s smiling a shit eating grin, knowing you’re pissed. 

“You’re the guy who’s fucking people half your age,” You lift yourself a bit, looking down at him with half lidded eyes, “And you flaunt it. You love having me as your little play thing. Y-”

“And you fuckin’ love it.”

“I’m talking,” You shush him, “You are going to let me talk.”

You grab his belt undoing it like you used to almost every night, “You’re going to sit back like a good boy, and let me remind you why this is the only pussy you want to fuck.”

Joel has never seen you like this. It’s like the distance between you two gave you time to gain more confidence. You tested him now, and he kind of liked it. He’d never say but he loved when you were bratty to him. Sure, before you were a little smart ass, but you were practically dominating him. It was a good change of pace. 

“Talk ‘bout toxic, baby girl,” He groans, “You know I can’t sit back and be a good boy.”

You use one hand to reach into his pants and grab his hard on. 

“You’re going to learn today,” You smile, “Because if you don’t, you’ll walk home with blue balls and you can call Kelly over to fuck you.”

He chuckles a bit, “Sounds like you’re jealous.”

You stop your actions, looking at his smug fucking face. 

“You literally just interrogated me about how I fucked half of Jackson,” You spit, “I can continue adding to the tallies. Have you watch me whore myself out to all of your patrol partners.”

“You ain-”

“Maybe I’ll get even bolder,” You continue, “Maybe I’ll even try to fuck the other Miller boy.”

You were completely fibbing. You’d never cross that line. You loved Maria and you respected her more than any other person in Jackson. You just really wanted to get under Joel’s skin.

And you quickly realize you did.

He flips you on your back and cages you under his arms. 

“You’re a fuckin’ dirty slut,” He is grabbing at your pants, yanking them down. Your jeans were skin tight and wet, but it took no time at all for him to tear them off your body, “You ain’t in charge here.”

“Let me up,” You demand, pushing at his chest. He wasn’t budging, he was on a mission. He tears off your underwear, exposing your wet slit. You didn’t even realize how dripping you were for him. 

“Look at you,” He teases, “Fuckin’ pathetic. Tryin’ to say you’d fuck my brother?” 

He shakes his head, using his fingers to trace up and down your slit. You wanted to scream out, but your mind goes blank. You were quaking with anticipation. You surrender to him pinning you against the couch. You’d get him back eventually.

“He’d never fuck a slut like you,” He continues, “No, he doesn’t know how to handle someone like you.”

“And you do?”

“I’ve been at it for awhile,” He sticks a single finger in you, making a squelching sound as he does, “Think ‘m gettin’ pretty good at ruinin’ you. Puttin’ you in your place.”

You finally moan out in pleasure, which makes his face twist in satisfaction.

“Fuckin’ Christ, I’ve missed how tight you are,” He groans, “Squeezin’ my fingers and cock so good.”

You’re practically soaking the couch with how wet you are already. All the build up and smack talk really put you in bind, his fingers driving you absolutely wild. 

He eases out of you, tracing your body to begin lifting off your shirt. He throws your shirt across the room, noticing you were actually wearing a padded bra. You smile at his realization. 

“Found one of these,” You gesture, toying with the straps, “Bet you’d never see the day.”

You had gotten used to never wearing a bra and Joel usually enjoyed it that way. You could never find a comfortable one and all your old ones were ragged and gross. On a recent patrol, you found a red bra in your size in an abandoned home. You stole it, tucking it carefully in your backpack to try on back home. Lucky enough, it fit and made your boobs sit better than they ever have. 

“Jesus Christ,” He mutters, lining the bra with his fingers, “As pretty as it is, it needs to go.”

You reach around your back, undoing it without another word. As soon as it is off, his fingers make work at pebbling your nipples. He smacked one with a gentle open hand. You squeak at the impact, watching Joel’s eyes revel at your bare body. He loved seeing you like this, crumbling under his touch. 

He props himself up on his knee which is wedged between your thighs. He pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it on the coffee table next to him. His buttons are already undone after you found yourself with your hands down his pants, earlier. He pulls those down too, letting them pool around his ankles. 

“For being a brat,” He nudges you, making you move your legs and plant them on the ground. You sit up, his hand ripping you off of your spot on the couch. He positions you between his legs, his cock standing up waiting for you. You sit back on your heels, enjoying the view. 

“You’re gonna try to be a good girl and suck me off.”

You smile eagerily, slowly running your hands up his thighs and to the base of his cock. Instead of getting straight to it, you bring the head of his cock to your lips and kiss it softly. You toy with the idea of completely ignoring his demands, but you come to the conclusion that you’d probably get nothing if you did that. And you wanted him so bad. You thought about this moment for so long. 

“Stop playin’,” He groans, watching you with his arms laying across the back of your couch. He looked like one of those statues you saw in old textbooks when you were a teenager. The ones you’d see at an old art museum scuplted from marble. The ones with the small dicks. That’s truly the only thing that differentiated the two. Joel was massive. 

“I’m not playing,” You disagree, “Shush.”

Before you can continue your tease, he grabs the top of your head. He is usually pretty assertive, but good God, he was not letting you get away with anything. You widen your lips, taking his cock into your mouth. Instead of progressing down his shaft slowly, he makes you take it fully down your throat. It causes you to gag a bit. You pull back, only for him to push you down again. 

You grip onto his thighs, digging your nails in a bit. You knew you would probably leave marks with how hard you were pressing into his skin. He winces, but continues to practically face fuck you. 

“You don’t tell me to shush, little girl,” He moans, watching your saliva drench his cock. He finally lets you pull up off him, holding your face in the process, “You hear me? You take this cock like a good girl.”

“Yes,” You manage to say, your throat already hurting from taking him in. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now come sit on my face.”

You oblige, standing up to let him reposition himself. 

You two have done this maybe twice. Each time you practically suffocated him, but he fucking loved every second of lapping you up. You knew that you were in for a ride with the way he was toying with you. 

He lays on his back, his hands keen on pulling your legs up to his shoulders. Your ass is positioned on his chest, his face between your thighs. You look down at him, sitting up straight before you ease down, letting your pussy take up the bottom half of his face. 

He dives in instantly, his mouth hungrily devouring your pussy. You scream out, letting your body relax against him. His facial hair brushes across your folds and inner thighs while his tongue begins tracing your insides. He stops at your clit, flattening his tongue and pressing forward. You couldn’t control yourself, sinking yourself down further onto him. His nose nudges your folds before he runs his mouth down your slit again, so his nose is now pressed against your clit. He moans into you, the vibrations sending you into ecstasy. 

You cum, your juices flowing down his face and your legs. He is moaning so loud, mewling at the fact that you never warned him you were about to cum. 

He taps your thighs, advising you to get off of him. You shakingly remove yourself from his face, standing up to look down at him. He was so hard and his lips and beard were soaked with your cum. 

“You fuckin’ squirted on me,” He laughs, sitting up. You felt kind of embarrassed, like you couldn’t even contain yourself for more than 2 minutes. “I’ll forgive you since it was hot. No cummin’ without permission.”

“Okay, sorry.” 

Even though you weren’t sorry. 

Your legs were practically numb and still quaking from your orgasm. You’re breathing heavily, trying to regain your composure. He notices your quivering and starts pulling you into his lap. You widen your legs, mounting his thick thighs. You look down at his cock, it sliding so perfectly between your pussy lips. He was a fucking dream. 

He doesn’t even say anything, just watching you try to catch your breath. 

“Relax baby,” He mumbles, “We haven’t even gotten started, yet.”

He grabs his cock, stroking it a bit before having you lift off of his thighs. He eases you up and onto the head of his dick. He spits into his hand, coating his shaft with it.

One thing about Joel, is he’s still the biggest you’ve ever had. No one ever got close to him. 

The stretch makes you moan out in pure euphoria. You missed it so much. It was something you craved almost every night. 

“Fuck,” You whimper, “Never gets old.”

He laughs at your admission, “Likewise.”

He snaps his hips against yours, settling into a slower pace. He was dragging it out, letting your walls become accustomed to him again. After a minute of slow strokes, he picks up his pace. He repositions, kneeling with his one leg extended out to the floor. You’re lifted up in the air partially, grinding down as he meets your motions with his strokes. Your hands are wrapped around his neck, your fingers finding his hair. His hands and grappling at your sides while you two moan in unison. 

You two were finally on the same page, not bickering, just fucking out your feelings. You felt the aggression, resentment, and fear dwindling away from you as you sweat out the brutal pace he’s bringing to the table. 

“I don’t want anyone else,” He sighs in between his cock hitting you at the perfect angle, “I only want this.”

You don’t think to hard about it, whimpering your response. 

“Please let me cum. Please.”

“So pretty when you beg.”

He’s drilling into you at this point, your tits bouncing right into his face. You lazily throw your head back, letting him take one of your nipples into his mouth. You’re so overly sensitive, you don’t know what to say other than beg him to let you release. 

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum.”

He releases your tit with a pop, “Cum for me, baby.”

After two more strokes, you’re falling apart in his arms. He wraps himself around you, fucking you through the second orgasm. 

He’s a whimpering mess, chasing his own release. 

“Fuck, baby, fuck.”

“Cum for me, Joel. Moan out for me.”

His deep and guttral moan sends shockwaves through your body. You could feel his cum release inside you, while his arms grow tighter around you. After he finishes, he lays you back onto the arm of the couch. His cock still rests inside you, twitching at every little movement your hips made. 

He swipes his forehead for sweat, marveling at you. He looks so endearing, like he didn’t just fuck your brains out and call you a bunch of names. The thought makes you giggle.

“What?”

You shake your head, touching his chest with your fingers, “You’re just handsome.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

You swat him while he slowly eases out of you. You whine a bit, letting the heat from the fireplace warm your body as oppose to Joel’s body heat. 

He stands up, abandoning you on the couch as he picks up his discarded clothes. You prop yourself up, trying to sit up but your body feels like jello. 

Your really didn’t want to watch him go. 

“You should stay.”

His back is turned away from you. He freezes as he grabs his shirt from the coffee table where it landed. 

He clears his throat, “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to leave.”

It was true. You wanted to figure it out. You wanted so badly for this to change everything. But it was just sex. Exactly how this trainwreck started. 

He starts to get dressed. You didn’t want to take that as his answer, but deep down you knew this is how things worked. You’d been through it with Joel before. You just had to wait for Ellie to come in and call you his “lady friend” and have him demand you “go get dressed”. It was the same thing every time. You thought it meant something but it really didn’t. 

Once he slips his shirt over his head, he walks back to sit next to your naked frame. He brings his hand up to trace your leg, which is perfectly nudged up against him. 

You really don’t want to believe all the things running through your mind. You craved an explanation.

“You said you only wanted this, Joel,” You grab a blanket from the back of the couch to cover yourself. You could tell he was at war with his thoughts, “Why can’t we start again? Do I seriously not mean anything to you?”

He realizes you’re pleading with him. He felt so guilty and it was written all over his face. 

“Of course you mean somethin’ to me,” He acknowledges, “But we can’t keep doin’ what we were doin’. We always end up screamin’ bout somethin’ stupid. I don’t want to make you unhappy. You deserve to be happy.”

You contemplate for a moment, unsure how to respond. 

“If being with you means screamin’ about something stupid and fighting over patrols and drinking too much and bickering over Ellie’s future,” You huff out, trying to not let the hitch in your throat become obvious, “Then I want it. I want it all. All the shit, all the fights. I want it because it’s with you.”

He doesn’t say anything immediately. The silence was deafening.

“We can try,” He mutters, “But we gotta stop tryin’ to fix everythin’ with sex. We gotta like… talk about things.”

You laugh out loud, noting his seriousness. You two were seriously thinking the same things. 

“Can we talk about our problems, like, during the sex?”

You were completely joking. You wait for his response, but it comes with him shaking his head. You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him in. Your boobs press against his now clothed chest. You feel his hands slide up and down your sides. You groan in pleasure, his touch sending chills down your spine. You wanted it like this. Forever. 

He clears his throat, “Well if I’m sticking around… round two?”

THE END.

taglist: @pedrotonin @mysingularitybts @harriedandharassed @paleidiot @misatoad @lottieellz101 @cool-iguana @bbyanarchist @am-3-thyst

[0-sparkling-lace-0]

The Lab Assistant

Hey! Before I start I'd like to introduce myself. You can call me winky, or wink, or luna. Also, I'd like to say in no way shape or form am I a writer. I dabbled in it when I was younger, it's been well over 5/6 years since I've written anything, though. So that being said, I wrote this years ago on a Tumblr account that I had that is now deactivated, because I personally wasn't happy with my work.

sigh

Always the critic. Anyways, I found this in an OLD ASS Google doc, and decided to read it again. Um, why I thought it was bad is beyond me. I was like 18-19 when I wrote this, and thought it was terrible. It's not the best, but for someone who was literally only just starting to write, I'm not sure it's that bad. Also, I'd like to say that my interests have steered away from Rick & Morty since having written this, so I don't really see myself writing for this fandom again. If you like it, please let me know! Also before I start, here are some warnings and tags.

MDNI. WC:1.8k RickSanchez x LabAssistant!Reader/AFAB!Reader/Age Gap/Use of Y/N/Masturbation/(Maybe slight degradation? If not let me know.)/Oral (Giving&Recieving)/Pet Names(Use of Daddy, baby girl ect-nothing too extreme)/(if I've forgotten anything, let me know!) Also it's been so long that I've been in this fandom or have read any fanfiction with Rick involved. If it's fell out of touch to write him with burping and or his usual stutters, I'm so sorry. That's probably the only thing that made me cringe while re-reading this.

It was a day like any other, as I helped Rick with whatever he needed. "Screwdriver." He said with a gruff voice. Before I walked over to the box that held his tools, I peered over his shoulder to see what exactly it was that he was working on. Mildly interested, I grabbed him the screwdriver and handed it to him. "Final touches..." He announced finally after an entire day of working on whatever it was that he was working on. "Finished!" He shouted. I was excited to see what it was, finally. "So, what is it?" I ask curiously. He smirks at me, giving me wild eyes that I'm easily intimidated by. "It's a de-device that can-burp- read your mind." I step back cautiously. Usually, I'd be the first to offer myself up as a guinea pig-bearing in mind that there's no way he can delve into my mind and discover the parts of me that I wouldn't want him to see. I always sense he knows that I have feelings for him, but he never brings it up because I'm a third his age. Even if that's the case, I can't take the chance. "No, I don't want you in my mind." He laughs. "Why not? Have some d-deep dark secret that you don't want people to know about?" I narrow my eyes at him, giving him a look that says back off. "Maybe I do. But seriously, I don't want to test this one." He sighs an upset sigh. "Alright. Maybe I can bribe-burp- Morty into doing it later. It's been a long day, let's go to-to bed." I give him a sad smile before I apologize and waltz out of the garage door and into the kitchen. "Goodnight, Y/N." I looked at the clock above the sink and realized it's only 8:30. "You're really going to bed? Why don't you hang out with me a little? We can watch Ball Fondlers together." I smile at him with questioning eyes, not wanting him to go to bed yet. I'd spent the whole day with him and I still want to be near him. He gave me a dirty look before lugging himself up the stairs. Maybe I made him mad when I told him I didn't want to test the mind reader. I frowned before grabbing something to eat and heading upstairs. I grabbed my TV remote once settled in my cozy bed and turned on Netflix. I kept the volume on low, not wanting to disturb Rick and make him even more upset towards me. 2 episodes in I started to hear mumbling. Wait, no, was it moaning? Someone must bewatching a movie, or something. I try not to think about it as I pay attention to my show.After a while, it starts to get louder and my thoughts interrupt my concentration. "I can't deal with this." I hop off my bed and walk out into the hallway, following the sound. But as I get closer, I realize the moaning isn't coming from a TV. I look over to Rick's bedroom door and see it cracked a bit. I tiptoe over to it and slightly peek through. Immediately my face flushes red at the sight. Rick, on his bed with his pants and his boxers to his knees, hand furiously tugging at his member. I had to cover my mouth to not moan at the view in front of me. He's a moaning mess. I slowly start to feel myself get wet with every passing second. This is wrong, so wrong. I shouldn't be invading his privacy like this. But I just can't tear my eyes away. "Fuuucck, Y/N..." My eyes got wide and how could I possibly get wetter than I was already? I could feel the wet patch forming in my jeans. My free hand went down to touch my clothed core. I had to bite my hand to keep myself from making any noise, this was too good to be true, I didn't want to lose it. My confidence boosted as I heard my name being called once again. I grabbed the door handle and thought about it one more time before finally making my decision. I swung the door open as I said: "You do realize I'm less than half your age, old man." He jumped and looked startled before he smirked at me; not the reaction I was expecting. "How long have you b-been listening?" I hopped up on the bed and crawled over to him. "Long enough to know that you're lusting after me, your lab assistant-how taboo." He chuckled darkly before saying:

"Not my fault you have killer tits, babe." I looked down to my chest and then back up to him before smiling. "Really? You think I have nice tits?" "Don't flatter yourself. I know you have a -burp- huge crush on me." I sat back on my heels with a frown on my lips before I said: "Well, from the look of it, it seems that you've one on me too." I gestured to his throbbing cock, still on display. "Like I said, killer tits." A thought popped into my head before I grabbed the hem of my spaghetti strap tank top and pulled it over my head, not wearing a bra. I heard his breath hitch in his throat. I raised my eyebrow in a challenge. "Fuck it." He breathed before grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me closer into a kiss. Not a gentle one, but an all consuming, hungry one. I kissed back with fervor. He pulled his hand up to my tit and ran the pad of his thumb over my nipple. I reached down between his legs to grab his aching cock and pumped him. He grunted and bit my bottom lip. I stole a glance into his wild, lust blown pupils. He pulled away from the kiss to shove my head downwards. "Suck it." I let out an angry breath through my nostrils. "You can boss me around in the garage, but not in the bedroom." "Hah! You act li-like I'm paying you-you for hard work." I grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed slighty while he hissed in slight pain. "Don't dare treat me like a 2 cent whore, ask nicely and you'll get what you want." He let out an annoyed sigh before saying "Please dear, would you su-suck my dick." Although I'd like it to be less sarcastic and more sincere, I want to get this show on the road. So I take his tip into my mouth and give it kitten licks to tease and get my revenge.

He twines his hand through my hair and pushes my head all the way down. After pausing slightly to gain control of myself, I started to bob my head up and down. His hips started to move on their own. The only thing I could do was relax my jaw in order to not hurt him while he face fucked me. Soon enough he was twitching in my mouth and I could tell that he was close, so I stopped. "What the fuck are you doing?!" "I don't want you to cum yet. Like you said, I have a crush on you too, where's my fun?" "You little bitch." He said before grabbing me and flipping me onto my back. "You like tea-teasing me? Huh?" I giggled before saying, "Yes, I do." He growled before ripping down my jeans and panties all in one go. "You're my assistant. I'm above you. Where's your respect?" All I could do is laugh. "You don't intimidate me, Rick. Now are you gonna keep babbling or are you gonna shove your face where it belongs?" Taking jabs at each other was a normal thing for us, but in a scenario like this? It only made me love him more. He gave me a look that could kill before he finally lowered his head. He started at my knees, giving me soft open mouthed kisses and traveled slowly up to my inner thighs. I was starting to get impatient. I sat up on my elbows and said: "Just get on with it." He shot me a smile. "Oh no, babe. I'm gonna-gonna make you beg." I laid back down with a huff. He laughed softly. I could feel his breath on me now. Finally, he took a long stripe up the center of me. I put my hand over my mouth, hoping he wouldn't see, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He then started to suckle on my sensitive nub and I whimpered somewhat loudly into my hand. He looked up, angry. "None of that, baby. I want to-to hear you." When I didn't listen to him, he stopped. I whined at the loss of contact. "What? You wa-want me to keep going? Like I said, beg -burp- for it, honey." I looked in his eyes a long while before finally saying, "Please." "Nuh-uh. You gotta beg." He grazed his hand over my clit before quickly taking it away, and that was enough to make me want more. I grabbed his neck, pulled him closer to me, and whispered into his ear, "Please, Daddy." "Fuuuck. God, I can't wait-wait any longer." He rubbed his cock against my entrance a few times before finally pushing himself in. My arm flew over my face before I could moan out loud.

He growled once he saw and grabbed both my wrists and pinned them above my head. Once he was all the way in, he leaned down to my ear. "Is Daddy big enough for ya, baby doll?" I was lost. I couldn't hold back any longer. "Yes, fuck Daddy. You're so big." He laughed before pulling back out and ramming himself back into me. He took his hands to the backs of my thighs, lifting them and pressing them up, my knees close to my chest. "F-Fuck!" I moaned loudly into his shoulder. He started at a slow pace, over time growing impatient and speeding up. I swear I could feel the tip kissing my cervix, he was so deep. Before long I could feel the enticing feeling in my stomach start to pool, my walls around him beginning to clench. "You close, sweet-sweetheart?" All I could do is nod furiously, as words were beyond my comprehension. "Good, cum with Daddy. C'mon baby-baby girl. That's it." That was all I needed to be pushed over the edge. I felt him cumming along with me as I looked up at him to see his face contorted with pleasure, filling me up with his load. Panting, I grabbed his face and pulled it down to me, giving him a loving kiss. After a while of heavy breathing, he rolled away from me. I sat onto my side to look at him. When we caught eye contact he rolled his eyes. "C-C'mere." I smiled wide before nuzzling my face into his chest. He was playing with my hair before I looked up at him and said, "So, Ball Fondlers?"

[crucipuzzled]

About Loid Forger's therapy in SxF manga chapter 77 (Spoilers ahead)

There's a Freudian text for everything. Today's all about The Question of Lay Analysis (1926), also known as Wild Analysis.

Endo did what I have been planning to do for a comic of my own: depict Loid actually working as a Psychiatrist. While I'm glad he took this path, sadly I can't say he did a good job on it.

As some of you know, I'm a therapist grounded in Psychoanalitic Theory. Yes, I like Freud and Lacan, and no, Oedipus Complex is not what you heard it is. I did a brief analysis of Psychiatry stuff in SxF in the past, and today I feel compelled to repeat that exercise.

Let's go in order.

1. The importance of being a third party

What's the reason for which people ask a therapist for help, and not their families or friends? What do we have that they don't?

The answer is pretty simple: neutrality. We don't have a side other than rationality and ethics. A good therapist should be able to listen to his patient without losing objectivity.

When you and your patient have a shared, unique shared experience, it's preferable, even ethical, to refer him to another therapist, in order to preserve the higher interest of the patient. The more neutrality you can muster, the better for the curing process. Otherwise, it's really hard to listen to someone else without being constantly reminded of yourself. It turns into a blind spot.

Now, there are exceptions to this rule, but you must handle them carefully, and always putting the patient at the center. Loid openly talking here about how close he is to the hijacking incident doesn't help much.

In short, you have to ensure that your position in the therapeutic process remains an impartial, neutral Other, and avoid becoming a fellow. It's good to create trust, but not too much, just enough to work.

2. Chronic condition (?)

The biggest difference between a Psychiatrist and a Psychologist is that the first went to Med School. Hence, chronicity is a term that applies mostly for organic conditions, but it's rare in the field of subjectivity.

In my short experience, I've met cases labeled as "chronic depression" being cured. I, myself, cured a case of "compulsive suicide attempts since 15 years old, chronic depression, started hearing evil voices 2 weeks ago". You might think that I'm a great therapist, but it's not the case; it's just that, in order to tackle subjective problems, you ought to go to the root of the symptoms and deal with the subjectivity you find there. Psychoanalitic therapy has proven to be wonderful to treat many conditions that didn't get a cure in other types of psychotherapy.

Of course, it's not a panacea. There are things that we can't figure out yet. But bear in mind that chronicity, in the field of the mind, is more complex than just the passage of time and only a bunch of mental conditions truly admit it.

Jacques Lacan, the most important psychoanalist after Freud, said that the unconscious's track of time is not chronological, but logical. You don't just jump out of adolescence because you turned 18; other things need to happen for you to finally feel like an adult. It's a logical progression. The same can be said about some "chronic" conditions.

3. Explicit Reason of Consultation vs Latent Reason of Consultation

A.K.A Everybody lies.

Psychotherapy is a really weird thing to learn and master. In Psychology School they teach you that you must trust what your patient tells you, but at the same time, distrust him enough. How to conceal both things?

Well, everything is easier when you take Dr. House's words to heart.

Everyone states a reason for consultation, but that first reason is never the real reason, no matter how reasonable it might sound. The trick to discern what the latent, real reason for consultation is, is to determine what the subjective conflict hiding in plain sight is. Sometimes there isn't any and therefore, a full psychotherapy is not necessary (maybe just assisting someone with some things, being there just in case, etc), but most cases are built upon a conflict.

I'm glad that Loid here decided to act like a good Psychiatrist and took a mental note on the oddities.

WELL SAID MY BOY, I'M PROUD OF YOU

I want to remark this, because it's discouraging how many therapists oversee this to simplify their job to an extreme. Believe it or not, there are therapists out there that act upon what their patients tell them first. "Hi doc. I came here today because I got an accident and I think I have PTSD". "Ok, I'll have you practice these mindfulness excercises and you should be ok within a month, see ya". DUDE.

4. The place of truth in the context of Psychotherapy

Ah, the classic temptation of knowing the 'real' truth. Is this patient in front of me bullshitting his way out? Is he in a delirium? Is she telling the truth, or just embellishing her story to make it more believable?

You don't have this struggle once you are certain of your role as a psychotherapist. And your role is to help your patients to deal with their subjective struggles.

In short: Psychoterapy deals with the patient's truth, not with the 'real' truth.

You know who deals with 'real' truth in the field of Mental Health? Social Workers.

We psychotherapists don't need to ascertain our patient's claims. Confronting them with reality usually proves to be fruitless, just like Loid did here ("But you're a respected educator!"). It's way more useful to open the topic by asking more questions such as "How did you reach that conclussion?" "What made you think that way?", or giving a specular answer ("You speak like someone else said that about you", "You're too hard with yourself. Where does that come from?", "It sounds like you're belittling your fear for what your wife could say", etc etc etc).

Whenever you're with a neurotic patient, their own personal truth is the only truth you need to work with. Leave the 'real' truth for people who actually needs it, like Social Workers, Doctors or Judges. Your role with a patient is to make sure that his personal truth can turn into something less painful. No need to talk with their friends and family for info, unless your patient is a child or a teenager; just ask him and stick to what he says word by word.

There's a huge topic about the place of reality in therapy, specially in the field of Psychoanalysis, but if I start this train of thought I'm afraid I'll go down to Hell. If you're interested, I've reblogged some Lacanian pills on this Tumblr, check them out by searching the tag #lacan.

PS: NO LOID, DON'T DO THAT. DON'T BREAK THE TRUST YOU ACHIEVED WITH MR AUSTIN! CONFIDENTIALITY IS A MUST!!

5. Counceling = Psychotherapy?

Loid is a (fake) Psychiatrist, not a psychotherapist, so I can't be too hard on him. Also I stan this man. I'm painfully well aware that councelling and coaching is an alternative to psychotherapy in other parts of the world, mostly in the US. But let's not forget one thing:

Psychotherapists DON'T GIVE ADVICES.

At least, not the ones that take this job seriously.

Everyone can give advices. Do you want an advice? Ask your family or friends, or post something in social media, or ask a complete stranger in the street what to do. You'll get plenty of answers and advices. Maybe a bunch of them will be really useful. Good!

The thing with advices is that: -They act like a universal recipe for a problem -There's no universal recipe to sort a problem -They don't tackle the subjective root of a problem -They assume that the problem can be solved by something you can do upon your surroundings, when the real struggle stems from subjective problems Some advices do help with real struggles, but when you have a subjective conflict, they barely help; hell, sometimes they make everything worse.

Like Loid here.

Remember when I mentioned that the unconscious mind's track of time is not chronological, but logical? This is a great example. Mr Austin won't be able to properly talk with his wife just because Loid adviced him to; he must solve other issues before that.

I'm glad we're on the same page on this one

6. Your therapist is not your friend

Sad but true.

If your therapist is good enough, you won't know many things about his private life. You won't know about his lover, his hobbies, where does he live, what does he fear.

Why the secretism? Because it's useless for the patient. Also because disclosing personal information has the effect of becoming a model for the patient, who would start to imitate you. And finally, because you need to mantain a semblance of neutrality and not getting emotionally close with the patient more than necessary.

PS: It's kinda cute how aware Loid is about Yor's every movement. Kinda. KISS HER ALREADY, GODDAMNIT

7. Talking cure and (how not to use) the divan

I talked a bit about divans here.

There, I mentioned that you should NEVER PUT A PSYCHOTIC PATIENT IN A DIVAN. NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE. Well, we can amplify this rule a bit and say that you should avoid the divan with any patient that has a risk of getting seriously upset, like in severe trauma.

The divan is not the only thing that could play against you if badly used. There are cases in Psychiatric Hospitals of patients getting upset because their therapists used the same clothes and hairstyle every single day for months. The point here is that, with psychotic patients and fragile psychic structures (like what happens in traumatized people), you can't use methods that require too much projection.

Also, Lottie here is not performing a Talking Cure.

The divan has been used since Freud to facilitate transference through the Free Association Method. You lay down on it and your therapist ask for whatever crosses your mind first. You don't put a content there beforehand.

(On the same line, if you're a therapist, please refrain from decorating your consultation room with motivational phrases. You're putting words in your patient's mouth before he even starts to speak)

So, it's useless to make Mr Austin lay down on a divan, only to ask him to remember a specific memory. I'd advice (Ha! The irony!) against using the divan here.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- To finish my Two Cents, I'd like to point some positive aspects of this chapter. It's nice that a troubled person decides to seek for help. There's still a huge stigma about men requiring mental health help, and it's a nice example to settle to portray one actually going to a Psychiatrist. Men usually struggle with their problems alone and they have it rough.

It's also nice that, in the end, Loid could help his patient. I wonder how (How?!), but it probably means that, at some point of the process, he changed his methods for the better.

And yes. Sometimes, helping one single person can change many lives. I'm honored to be able to attest to that :D

As everyone, I'd expect the logical sucession of events that could follow this chapter: Loid realizing he's got a heck of a wife compared to other marriages, appreciating Yor more, and giving us heavy smut cute TwiYor moments. But Endo has proven to be an author that doesn't like to follow logic. So, let's brace for whatever will come in two weeks.

Thank you for reading!

[euphoric-dramione]

manacled

tw: spoilers for manacled

this one will be long, so brace yourselves

I first read Manacled in 2020, and it must've been the third Dramione fanfic I ever read, so I was truly very impressed with how well written it was. It remained the best and my favorite fanfic up until I started rereading it recently, and I'm writing this rant because I just finished rereading Manacled for a third time and I have some thoughts.

Firstly, it's important to state that back in 2020 I was still a high-school student, I loved reading books, especially classic literature, but I had little understanding of why some pieces of literature become classics and others don't. I just liked reading, and just like many other people, I thought that fanfiction was bad because all I've ever known at that point was Wattpad. Manacled changed my opinion. It was the best thing I had ever read, but I was only nineteen.

Now I am twenty-three, I have a degree in English literature, and although it might mean nothing to some people, it proves to me that I can read and understand texts as well as view them critically - my degree gave me tools to approach things I read and see using critical thinking skills. I don't want to critique Manacled because I think that all fanfiction is a wonderful gift that writers give readers for free, asking nothing in return, and that is such a lovely concept, so please keep that in mind when you read and review fanfiction. My critique stems more from what Manacled tells about the way we read classic literature, books in general, and how we deal when we face dubious morality. There is a thin line between books and literature - sometimes that line doesn't even exist. All literature is books, but not all books are literature. Just like all books are texts, but not all texts are books. What is Manacled then?

I'm choosing to speak about Manacled because I think it does a very interesting thing. It is an intertext of two books - Harry Potter and The Handmaid's Tale. Both of them are books, only one of them is literature, however in Manacled they are treated the same.

The Handmaid's Tale is a gruesome novel about a dystopian world where fertile women are slaves to men, their ability to bare children used as a weapon to exploit them. As the author herself, Margaret Atwood, stated, everything depicted in this novel had in some place or some time actually happened to women.

Rape in The Handmaid's Tale is a way for men to demonstrate how much power they have over women, and how they use that power to humiliate and control every aspect of women's lives, especially their reproductive health. Manacled picks up the very carcass of the story of The Handmaid's Tale and inserts it into a dark AU Harry Potter universe where the second wizarding war with Voldemort still continues some years later. Whereas The Handmaid's Tale is a thought-provoking feminist masterpiece about women's struggles and the never-ending violence perpetuated within walls of patriarchy, Manacled focuses solely on one woman and one man. The woman being Hermione Granger who is forced to bear Draco Malfoy's child in order to get her memories back, so Voldemort could rule forever. Later on, we figure out that Hermione and Draco were actually in love, but war set them apart, and it's him Hermione tried to protect by erasing her own memory. Here lies the distinction. Not only does Manacled say nothing about feminism and how women's bodies become war battlefields for, most often, men. Not speaking up on something in the intertext is absolutely nothing wrong. But Manacled does something else, something that I now see so clearly upon rereading, and something which I can neither forgive nor forget. It romanticizes rape. You might say I'm being too callous saying that it romanticizes rape when it is simply depicting in, and I will explain why I chose the word romanticizes.

Although Manacled doesn't allow us to attribute good or bad traits to characters, it is still very clear that Hermione is the heroine in this story and Draco - the hero with antihero characteristics. How do we deal with the fact that our hero hurt our heroine? We look for excuses. Draco Malfoy rapes Hermione, and we're looking for excuses as to why he did it. Some excuses are these: he did it because he loved her, because if he hadn't raped her, Voldemort would've found out that they were hiding something, and then would've killed them both; he did it, but it hurt him even more than it hurt her (it is true that both the victim and the perpetrator might be equally traumatized by an event one caused and another had to suffer through, but it never excuses the perpetrator); and finally - he did it because he had no other choice. Side tangent, but if my loved one ever has to choose between murdering me or raping me, I hope they kill me. Murder me a million times before you rape me once, that will be a greater mercy. And I believe had Draco actually loved Hermione as much as he claimed, he would've murdered her before he laid a finger on her. Let's also have in mind that he rapes her not once, not twice, but over THIRTY times.

While The Handmaid's Tale tirelessly shows that rape is the worst thing that one person can do to another, Manacled, with all its horrifying depiction, claims the complete opposite. Draco Malfoy rapes Hermione Granger, and although he doesn't take pleasure in it, he still does it. We find excuses for it because he is a hero of the story in our eyes, the same way that we find excuses for our favorite famous men when we find out they committed atrocious acts especially against women. When we read Manacled, we are encouraged to believe that rape is sometimes unavoidable, which is the greatest lie of all, it is blasphemous. Because it's Draco Malfoy committing the rape, it seems that sometimes a person has no other choice but to rape another which is a complete antithesis to what Margaret Atwood, and many other modern feminist thinkers claim. Of course, we don't need feminst thinkers to tell us rape is bad, but we might need to think a little deeper to understand that it is never something one has to do.

Rape is always avoidable, never necessary. It is perhaps the only crime that is committed not for some particular reason, but solely because one person wants to hurt another. Murder, theft, these are the crimes that a criminal might commit because they're poor, because they're are being blackmailed, because it's self-defense, etc. However, rape is such a horrifying crime specifically because you can always choose not to do it, and specifically because it is so hard to recover from - rape victims suffer more extreme and longer-lasting cases of PTSD than victims of any other crime because rape is so horrible and death might be considered dignified compared to rape, not better, but more merciful than rape. Draco Malfoy might be a lot of things in Manacled, but one of them is a rapist, and there is simply no going on around it. If you can forgive him, I hope it's because of all the other fanfics you've read where he was good and kind, and not because here he had no other choice but to rape, because that is simply not true. He had a choice, many choices, to be exact. The choice is always there. The most important thing is what we choose.

This is in no way an attack on Manacled, it is not a review nor is it hatespeech - I thoroughly enjoyed this fanfic back when I read it the first time, and I do think it is incredibly well-written, and I am not comparing it to any other published works because that would be unfair. I believe the things I've talked about have more to do with what regular people who are not writers write and how regular readers who do not read classics all the time accept and discuss that work later on. Anyone could've written something romanticizing rape, and many people do it all the time, some even get published and make money off it, but not all people can write as well as the author of Manacled, and even less would be ready to give us their work to read for free. I purposely do not mention the pseudonym of the author because I am also not attacking them personally, simply pointing out what I've noticed. Thank you for reading all the way to the end.

[kaiserkisser]

GUYS IVE HAD THIS THOUGHT FROM AGES IM FINALLY POSTING IT

okay so this is basically a post on how the song redemption by besomorph is literally about dazai. never made one of these before but i need yall's opinions

LETS START

ok so.

You say I make you nervous, a tragedy I'm a beautiful disaster, a reckoning You wonder how I got this way (you wonder how I got this way) You think I'm someone to be saved, someone to clean up and tame Oh somethings never change, never change, oh

for me, this is dazai's relationship with mori. the first line a direct reference to what he told mori at 22 at the truce meeting. the third line, its exactly what it says, with the 'you' being mori. (could be referring to when mori asked dazai why he wanted to die at 15) the next line, mori not letting him die, keeping him alive despite his attempts to kill himself. the last line? idk. maybe maybe that emptiness he feels never going away?

You think I would look pretty on your arm Once you cover up my bruises and battle scars But it always ends the same (but it always ends the same) Can't bear the things I've had to face Got you crying on your knees in pain Oh, somethings never change, never change, oh

the ffirst line, him being mori's right hand man. the second, his bandages. um, idk the exact reference for the rest but listen it still gives me dazai vibes okay???

You'll break your back to make me feel again Suffocate to make me breathe again Lose your mind from endless praying Somethings never change, never change, oh Redemption never came

for me, this is BOTH chuuya and odasaku towards dazai. both care for him, dont want to let him die (despite what chuuya says) esp odasaku, he literally died, and his last words were aimed at helping dazai feel a little more, be a bit better. the some things never change? maybe the 'everything worth wanting is always lost the moment i obtain it' still being true, even after all this time? (the manga events- :'( ). redemptiom never came, for the fact that eventually, maybe he didnt succeed in saving people like odasaku wanted? that, fir him, odasaku died, and he was seperated from chuuya for four years and it wasnt really the same after?

I stopped asking for forgiveness 'cause you should know Only fools tread where the angels fear to go But you keep trying to get too close (But you keep trying to get too close) Saved myself by turning into stone So save your judgment 'cause you just don't know But somethings never change, never change, oh

idk im thinking of the ada but idk how to explain it more... dazai vibes alr?

They say I should feel guilty and change my ways Leaving crumpled bodies in my wake Swear I didn't mean to make them break (Swear I didn't mean to make them break) But they're so delicate and so mundane And they keep coming like a moth to flame Oh somethings never change, never change

um i dont know how to explain this either it just really REALLY seems like a dazai thing. genuinely. please tell me you get what i mean. bc istg i KNOW what i mean but i dont know how to SAY it urghhhhhhhh

thats the song lmao ANYWAYS GO LISTEN TO IT!!!!!!!!! ITS AN AMAZING SONG!!!!!!

[hesawifebeaterdanusethegun]

Being With Herr König Part 4:

Part 3

Okay guys, here's part 4, I'm not sure how long this will go, I guess I'll just write until I get to the ending I'm planning. As always, likes and comments are greatly appreciated, you don't know how excited it makes me to get a comment on something I've written or drawn!

Neither of you knew, though you could have guessed, the other had a stressful, sleepless night. You both gave up on even trying to sleep tonight after your encounter. It was already getting light out anyway. You were on your third cup of black coffee when you saw the sun peeking out from behind the thick trees outside the back of your apartment building. You busied yourself doing the dishes, washing your coffee mug and the few other miscellaneous dishes you hadn't deemed worthy of immediate attention the night before.

Your mind was still reeling from König's visit the night before. He'd told you about the creatures he lovingly called his "cuckoos" because of the way they reproduced, he'd explained that he was a part of a small group of those with the resources to conduct large scale breeding experimentation, an elite group that went back hundreds of years at least. He'd said that just telling you this information without express permission could endanger the entire project, but he wanted no secrets between you.

Your mind wandered back to the kiss you'd shared last night just before things got complicated. His lips had been soft, his kiss a bit prickly with facial hair, and he was so gentle, holding you as if you might break if handled too roughly. You found that you much preferred reliving this moment in your head rather than that which came after it.

You decided to take a long hot shower. The shower was one of the places you went to think, it relaxed you and helped you think rationally. You gathered your towel and robe and headed to the bathroom. Hanging the towel and robe on hooks inside the door, you shed your pajamas and set the shower temperature as hot as you could stand before climbing in. The steam instantly cleared your sinuses and relaxed your muscles.

You stayed in the shower until the water ran cold before shutting it off and stepping out of the tub, toweling yourself dry and donning your robe. Making your way to your room you walked through the living room and just for a second and very faintly, you thought you heard a screeching coming from outside, but somewhere far away. You went to your room to get dressed.

Remembering what Herr König had said last night during his unexpected visit, you donned a pair of straight cut jeans, a pair of combat boots, a t-shirt, and an old leather jacket you'd picked up thrifting back home in the U.S. many years ago. You thought that should be warm enough for a forest walk at night this time of year.

He'd told you he would be here at dusk, giving you plenty of time to wrestle with all the thoughts racing through your head since his departure. You made yourself another cup of coffee and took your usual seat at the kitchen table. You thought of these creatures he'd spoken of, these fascinating almost-human creatures. You thought of what König was doing here with his resort and found that you were more amazed and curious than anything else. Any disgust you felt at the ethical violations pushed to the back of your mind, you thought only of König's love and reverence for these animals, and your love and reverence for him.

As you mulled over the events of the past 24 hours, your mind inevitably wandered back to the kiss the two of you had shared last night. You imagined you could still taste him on your lips if you concentrated hard enough. You prayed that it wouldn't be the last time you kissed him, you couldn't bear that.

Just as you noticed the sun had started to set, you heard a car pull up outside. You heard the door open and slam shut and a few moments later someone knocked on your door forcefully, three times. You smiled, knowing exactly who it was just from the knock, getting up from the table and heading from your small kitchen to the door.

Undoing both locks, you pulled the door open revealing a much more put-together Herr König, not a hair out of place as usual. He wore a deep purple button up shirt and brown slacks. Uncharacteristically, he wore very nondescript hiking boots instead of his usual dress shoes or loafers.

"Hi," you smiled at him, a little unsure how to act now that things had changed so much and so rapidly between you.

"Guten abend, mein abendstern," He took your hand, kissing your knuckles and releasing it again. "Shall we?" he gestured out the door and waited for you to pass ahead of him and pull the door shut behind you, locking it as you always did (and would pay extra care to do so from now on) before he started walking next to you to the passenger seat of his car. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for you to get in, shutting it behind you before heading to his side of the vehicle and climbing inside, starting the engine.

"Are you ready for this? You don't have to do this," he told you. "I understand if it's too much for you to handle."

"No, I want to. I want to know, I want to see and understand this thing that means so much to you. No matter how I feel about it, I know how I feel about you."

He smiled softly, his eyes shining as he looked into yours. He took your hand. "Thank you." he whispered. You smiled back.

He let go of your hand and placed it on the steering wheel before reaching down and pulling the car into gear and leaving your apartment parking lot, headed for the resort. The sun had already sunk below the mountains, casting everything in a dark blue light.

Part 5

[rebouks]

Hello! I'm that anon who once asked you about the lots you use in your gameplay and whether you built them all. I'm so impressed that you create most of them yourself! But ever since you replied to that question, I've been trying to envision a lot for one of my upcoming gameplays, but I'm struggling to fully see it in my mind, so I was wondering if you'd mind giving some tips on your process of building your lots. Building is my weakest skill in the game, but I want to give it a try!

hello again anon!! i'm very flattered u think it's impressive 🥺 i truly love creating spaces for these guys! i'll try my best to kinda go into my process but be warned.. like anything else i do it's pretty much just chaos/winging it dkjsdkj (it'd be much easier if i used floorplans or smth simple so i could be like, here do this! but alas...)

okay i'm prolly gonna ramble a lot here but i mostly base my builds off random visions/future scenes that pop into my head or straight up vibes.. which isn't very helpful ik but hopefully if i explain it'll make a bit more sense!

so with Oscar's house above i knew i wanted it to be BIG, but i didn't want it to feel like a mansion they couldn't afford so i added some other houses on the lot and just gave em the biggest plot! i also knew i wanted it to be symmetrical, but only from the outside cos i wanted it to feel slightly chaotic on the inside, also hence the random tower addition on the left and the sunroom on the right.. like it used to be a big grand symmetrical "mansion" (prolly at the time it was built) but over the years kinda ended up as a convoluted mess left to rot until someone rescued it (yay for Oscar's impulsivity 🤸‍♀️) AND IT NEEDED AN ATTIC!! u kno cos where else would Clementine live?? 👻

so really i had no inspo pics or house plan layouts to go off here, just a vibe and an idea, i started with a rough shape and worked out all the kinks from there, then added the other lots.. be prepared to hate your wip and start over tho cos ig it's all part of the fun!

here we have an actual wip to use as an example! so with this one i basically knew i wanted a wrap around style house around a "courtyard" but since mt. komo is shit and doesn't have any decent sized lots we'll have to go with an L-shaped design and a third floor ig 😩 i started with the ground floor and just pissed around with the others until i ended up with smth just right, like anything else i do, building is just ruminating on an idea until i'm like.. yeah that works sdkjskj.. also handy to place the bare minimum furniture items as u go to get a feel of how the space does or doesn't work so u can fix it n stuff!

also feel free to make shit look strange if it works, for example these window placements look weird as hell on the outside, but real life houses aren't always symmetrical or perfect on the outside and we spend most of our time on the inside where the windows make perfect sense so.. yeah! i'm big on views from the INSIDE of the house so i just make stuff work, also big fan of using ivy/wall decs n stuff to "fix" the way it might look on the outside if needs be too..

the school i made for Robin n' co. was entirely built around this pool (cos it's IMPORTANT) and the fact that it had to have a glass roof (it just HAD to ok idk why but we must kneel to the vision when it strikes ���‍♀️) i tried to make the rest of it make sense around it tho, like maybe it was added on afterward so the rest is a pretty standard shape with offices n shit near the entrances etc.. ALSO (wait i actually need to explain smth else before we get to this also BUT BEAR WITH ME!)

ask yourself some questions (if u want? or just dl a house idk dskjdk)

i treat building similarly to writing and that means asking yourself some questions.. like you might ask why a character is doing/saying something, what happened in the past to make them this way? what're they aiming for in the future to choose these paths etc etc.. WELL.. what's this building for, who is it for, who chose to live here, who got stuck here, why do they like it, why do they hate it, etc etc.

we either get stuck somewhere we hate and it doesn't suit us, or we're lucky enough to choose somewhere that we love, but why? Oscar's house is sprawling and chaotic because they kinda are, and it suits them! all the random cupboards leading nowhere and the quirky additions are just perfect for them, if they were real people looking for a real house they'd view it and LOVE it, but other characters definitely would NOT 😅 the wip is neat and practical cos the people who're gonna live there are! 👀 and the school (see we got to that ALSO eventually) has that huge "grand" courtyard at the front that's actually pretty useless because it's a shitty comprehensive school that wants to give the image that it's decent, but actually it's a bit shit and there's nothing going on in the back, nowhere for the kids to play outside and very limited resources/equipment for them either.. like everything is built the way it is for a reason, which is why i think i find it so impossible to use other ppls builds, cos they don't fit all these visions in my mind...

ok i'm gonna shut up now but i HOPE this rambling mess somewhat explains how i go about starting a build and why.. i'm not sure i can help with the vision part since your brain is your own but floorplan websites and things like pinterest or even just google images are great for giving you ideas if you're struggling!

[girl-please-study]

Alright I have something to confess. I've been thinking about dropping my course or taking a gap for a while.

And I did it, I'm back home. It wasn't a decision I made under pressure or any sort of influence, it was my own choice.

I've been to college for 8 months by now and honestly I did not learn a single thing, it wasn't a good college to begin with but it also kinda wasted my time and my parents' money. Every week they had some new scheme to drain more money out of students.

I was a good student overall, had bonding and friendly relation with almost every teacher including the chairperson. But I did not grow cognitively for as long as I've been there. Their "good" teachers they had when I joined college left gradually and by now our college has 2 teachers with 5 yrs+ teaching experience and all others are just fresh graduates who don't know how to teach. My growth just simply stunted and I could not bear that.

Plus, they don't teach anything clinical, everything I learned, I learned from YouTube and the college's lab is literally bankrupt, it has nothing you can use to practice. They have broken BP apparatus, broken thermometers, expired meds and other liquids since 2007. Hello?

Plus, it was located in a rural-like area so people were super narrow minded, they controlled every aspect of your life, EVERY. But that's for another post.

I did not work hard a single day since I've been there, it was way to easy to be the brightest kid in the call, it was a free reward.

I could've easily been there and savoured it and after 4 yrs I would've woken up and realised I wasted my time and money. I wanted to challenge my brain, life was way too monotonous and simple.

Then I remembered, there's a degree that's from an Open University that's also been going on parallelly (although I have not submitted a single assignment or been to a single practical class ouch). It's a BSc honours course in Biochem. My third yr just started so I can (not so) easily cover my 1st and 2nd yr along with 3rd yr and graduate by next year and then there's so much scope.

As opposed to nursing that was gonna take 4 yrs to just complete it and then search for jobs or sit in competitions, I'll still be sitting in competitions but (if I tried enough) can easily get a well respected job in 2 yrs time.

These are only some of the points that made me change my mind, there's a sea of resons why I came back home. Overall, I feel like it was a right decision and I'm so proud of me for taking a leap of faith and putting myself out there.

[thought-42]

Somebody has to leave first

Star Wars, 1400 words,Ezra Bridger Something something growing up something something ded parent something something Ezra Bridger in the Chiss Ascendancy. I've never heard of canon in my life.

Ezra Bridger talks to dead people.

They do not, it should be noted, talk back.

He knows all things are possible within the Force, so he's always gotta keep in mind that his monologues run the very real risk of becoming dialogues, probably at the most embarrassing or inconvenient times, but honestly if a ghost has nothing better to do than listen in on his diary entries to the beyond that says more about them than it does about him.

He doesn't talk to Kanan. It seems like the obvious assumption, follow in the shuffling footsteps of Obi-Wan Kenobi and claw out frantically for a point of stability to serve as compass in a world gone upside down. And there was a time where a smile or a few words of pride from Kanan was all Ezra needed to reinforce his foundations and stand tall and ready. But the truth of it is, he doesn't know if Kanan would be proud of him, which would be less of a problem if Ezra himself had any uncertainty about his life choices.

Besides, even ten years on every time he thinks about that last glimpse of Kanan, wreathed in flames, he wants to dig his fingers into his skin and deeper and pull and pull until the memory and the sick feeling in his stomach are gone. He cannot think about it. It is an impossibility, it is not something his mind is capable of bearing, the idea of another living person who he loves burning and burning and burning is not something that can live inside of him sustainably. He thinks of Kanan and he feels sick and sad and selfish for not being able to focus on all the good memories.

No, Ezra doesn't talk to Kanan. Ezra talks to people he has only ever known in death.

He talks to  Master Mace Windu and tells him he wishes he knew how to see shatterpoints. Ezra is good at building connections, building bridges, yeah yeah yeah, but every web has one thread at risk, one point where a quick pull will unravel the whole thing. Ezra's had his entire life shattered twice before with no warning, he would really love to know how to prevent the inevitable third round. . Shouldn't this skill just come free with the lineage?

He talks to Thrass-- "can I call you Thrass?" Everybody says Thrawn needed a brother, and yeah, ok, his older brother died and Thrawn went off the rails there for a hot eighteen years, but Ezra's here now, reporting for little brother duty twenty years late with caccoleaf; but better late than never, right? It feels right, picking up Thrass's flag in the relay of Sky Walker investigation and running hard and fast with it as far as he can go. Feels kinda like when Zeb would start a repair project on the Ghost and then leave the second half for Ezra to finish off with no need for explanation or request, just the trust that Ezra knows what to do. ...Thrawn kinda feels like one of those handed off projects, too, but Ezra doesn't even say that part to the dead, just in case they really are listening and decide to tell on him. Ezra never had an older sibling by blood, but they seem to adopt him everywhere he goes. He figures it's his turn to adopt one back, even if it is posthumous.

He talks to Master Depa, because, as his grandmaster, she's legally required to think he's doing a great job. He talks to her about being a teacher on a warship, asks how she delt with knowing every time she ruffled Caleb's hair over breakfast it could be the last.

He tells her every time he wonders if he permanently stained his soul with the dark he remembers that she came back as strong a Jedi as anybody could ask, and it really does make him trust in himself.

He thanks her for raising Caleb, although would it have killed her to teach him just a biiiit of Vaapad?

He tells her he understands, fundamentally, like a burning cole lodged in his ribcage, her desperate need to protect her student, to die so that he could live.

He tells her she would be proud of the man Caleb became, but that it probably wasn't what she expected. Caleb didn't grow up into Caleb. Caleb grew up into Kanan, and secretly Ezra always wonders if Kanan would have been someone who would have fit back in with the Jedi of his childhood.

Ezra's cabinet of entirely metaphorical ghosts all roll their eyes at this transparent attempt at obfuscation, because all the ghosts Ezra has made up to talk to are assholes.

Ok, fine. So maybe Ezra's pretty sure that the found family who gave Ezra Bridger, Jedi Padawan a home might not know what to do with Stybla'ezra'bridger, Jedi Navigator.

It had taken Ezra and sacher actual months, long nights  of sitting at Ezra's kitchen table with big sheets of paper and cheap wine, tossing potential names for their brand new program back and forth. They settled on Jedi Navigator mostly because Thrawn told them they had three days before the official paperwork had to be filed, and they hadn't come up with anything better that they could both agree on. Ezra hit submit on his part of the project proposal and that night he'd laid awake imagining a scenario where he got to tell Hera and Kanan-- "See? Jedi Navigator. Something from each of you."

He's heard the war is over. The Rebellion won and turned right back around to build another Republic. He's heard there's another Jedi --not Kanan, miraculously returned like Ezra dreams at least once a month-- and he's going to start a new order. And he's tried to imagine himself somewhere in all of that and it doesn't fit. He fit on a bunk bed in the Ghost with his family around him, doing their part to beat back the constant press of fascism. But there's no more Empire, no more family all squished together in one little ship. Even if he wanted to climb back into that bunk he knows his head would bump the top now.

The space between eighteen and twenty-eight feels like a lifetime. At eighteen Ezra had just gotten all his clay together and ready to be moulded into a person, and then he'd flung himself half way across the galaxy and wound up being moulded and fired in a different kilmn entirely. There's an Ezra somewhere out there who grew and changed right alongside that cramped little family, who moved forward in their orbit, chose his path and his place on the same game board. He probably knows how to fit in. He's probably working at the Jedi school or part of the reconstruction efforts on Lothal or a commander on a Republic ship stamping out the last remnants of the Empire.

Ezra's not jealous of this other version of himself, this what-if world he built in his own imagination specifically to hurt himself. He expected to be struck by the longing for home, by the bitterness of lost possibility. He isn't.

He can't tell Thrawn this because Thrawn spent eighteen years becoming something monstrous, shredding himself and everyone around him in an increasingly desperate dancing of 'I can fix this I can fix this I can fix this' and when he’d come back the hole his departure had left had long since healed over.

He can't tell Kanan this because--- the force of the explosion, maybe, was enough to make it quick--

Hera's a General now, apparently, and Ezra's certain it suits her just as he's certain even in a world where he'd stayed he wouldn't be asking a General for existential advice at 3:00 AM. Every thing he learns about what's happening in Lesser Space is a double-edged blade.

They aren't really supposed to know much at all-- not relevant, but Theliva keeps offering Ezra little nuggets of info about the Spectors like an awkward stepparent offering candy to win affection from a recalcitrant child. To which Ezra says, 'did you know it was actually just so easy not to join the Empire?' If Ezra's parents had been alive and he could have carried on their family legacy-- well. Isn't that what his whole life's been about, at the end of the day? Hauling around other people's legacies, trying to build something new out of the scattered pieces.

He offers himself up, everything he is on open palms to the gallery of ghosts, living and dead:

This is all I have to offer. It is enough.

[stayinzencity]

heroine’s manual S1 E3

GENRE: Romcom, Drama | love triangles, childhood friends, high school au | INSPIRED BY: Heroine Shikkaku (shoujo manga) | LENGTH: ~1.4K | RATING: Teen | WARNINGS: mentions of food, eating | PAIRINGS: Minho x MC (Reader), Minho x OC (Heather) | TAGLIST: @linoscence @elizabeth11moreno  (ask to be added) | A/N: this chapter finally came out of the drafts after years thanks to @jisungsdaydreamer (and me accidentally posting part 5 first oops)

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THREE. Even if he rejects me, I won't give up so easily and allow someone else to steal my spot.

Inviting Heather to hang out is a mistake. Having your friends around doesn't make you feel any less of a third wheel. It’s Heather who’s supposed to be the odd one out amongst your group, yet somehow it feels like the rest of you are the ones intruding. You can't bear to witness the shy glances and gentle smiles Minho and Heather exchange.

You're trying to come up with an excuse to break them apart without being the bad guy, when a crash comes to your rescue.

"Ah. My bad," Jisung apologizes, looking down at the glass he'd accidently knocked over. He'd been sitting next to Heather, and while the glass was fortunately intact, water had spilled onto Heather's lap. 

"Looks like you’re the victim of Jisung's idiocy today." Hyunjin hands her napkins, attempting to ease her through the awkwardness with his charming smile. He shoots Jisung a withering glare, getting a sheepish look and shrug in reply.  

"I guess I should get going," Heather says. She rises from her seat in a hurry, but a hand over hers gives her a reason to wait. 

Hyunjin.

Minho's expression is closer to amusement than jealousy, watching as his friend calls his girlfriend - by her actual name, not the nickname you've given her.

Maybe Hyunjin's crush hasn't disappeared yet. If he and Heather get together, then Minho would be yours again. Everything would fall perfectly in place.

"We don't live that far from each other. I'll take you home." Hyunjin pauses, turning to Minho who's sneaking cake onto Jisung's plate. "If that's fine with your boyfriend?"

"Whatever she wants," Minho says with a shrug. He doesn't seem to be worried about Hyunjin stealing away his girlfriend, which boosts your confidence in your own chances with him. 

"Yeah," you enthusiastically agree, nodding your head. "Hyunjin's a nice guy. Have a wonderful evening!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes, scowling at you, instead of being grateful that you're helping him out. One day, he'll figure it out, and thank you.

You lean close to her so that only she - and Hyunjin, perhaps - can hear. "You might even fall for him instead of Minho."

Hyunjin scoffs at your words with an exaggerated eyeroll and drags Heather out the door before you can say anything else.

Seungmin leaves soon after them, muttering something about an assignment that you don't really bother paying attention to.

And then it's just Minho, Jisung and you.

"We should head home too," Minho says. He gets up from the table and grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. "It's movie night."

"Ah, right." Jisung sends you a wink, starting the next phase of your plan to set your story on track. "I've got some stuff I need to work on, so I'll have to trust you two to keep our tradition alive even if it’s not the same without me."

And then it was just Minho and you.

It's usually easy to forget Minho's girlfriends exist when they're not around. Often they fade into the background even when they are around.

Yet you find yourself alone with Minho, head in his lap, too distracted to actually watch the show that's playing on the TV. Too much on your mind to even enjoy this moment.

Minho's texting someone, wearing a smile as soft as the one he usually gives you before he wraps you in a hug. 

The someone in question must be Heather. After all, who else could it be? The only real rival you've ever had when it came to Minho's affection and attention is Heather, right?

If there's no struggle, then it won't feel as special when you finally end up together. Heather isn't the heroine. That title belongs to you. You're the one that's always been with Minho. No one else knows him like you do- well, maybe Jisung does. That's a different story though.

If you're the heroine, then why do you feel like you're in second place? Are you falling into a background role in your own story? Could it be you're simply a side character in this tale?

Minho's fingers run through your hair, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

You're the one here with him, not Heather. You're the heroine, not her. There's still hope. 

“I like you,” you blurt. It's far from the confession you had planned, especially since you weren't even the one who was supposed to be saying the words first. Sometimes you need to improvise to get the perfect scenes, so it's ok. “I like you so much.”

Minho’s hand stops stroking your hair. He doesn’t take it away, so you don’t attempt to sit up. You want to be close to him, for as long as you can. 

Any moment now, he'll admit his feelings for you and you'll be the one beside him instead of Heather. 

You know that, but if somehow these are the last moments you’ll have with him, you want to remember them being pleasant. Besides, you don’t exactly want to look at his face right now. The aftermath of a confession is more mortifying than you imagined, especially when you haven't gotten an answer in return. 

“I know,” he says. 

And that’s it. He doesn't say anything else. And you don't have the courage to ask what your words meant to him. 

The couple on screen breaks up and eventually makes up, but you don't even remember their names anymore. Tears fall from your eyes and you wipe them away. 

"I can't watch this anymore," you manage to whisper. It's not the drama that has you crying. You know it, and you know Minho probably does too. "I'll head home."

Minho doesn't try to stop you as you leave. As tempting as it is to turn back, you're too afraid that Minho's eyes won't be watching you.

Seungmin once explained some physics cat theory. Put a cat in a box with poison, and it could be both alive or dead as long you don't open it. If you don't check, the cat might still be alive. Something like that.

In your imagination, Minho is woefully watching as you walk away.

After the confession, it's a little hard. Minho isn't actively avoiding you, except he kind of is. He has the perfect excuses, plus the universe seems to be on his side. It's natural for the hero of the story to have exceptional luck. 

As the heroine, you don't seem to have the same advantage. If anything, there's just been obstacles to your perfect ending. The biggest one turning out to be Minho himself.

You thought you didn't have to do anything and everything would fall into place by itself. Then when you took a chance and confessed, you were turned down. But even if he doesn't feel the same way now, you can't give up yet. It hurt when you realized you weren't on the same page as him, but there's still time for him to catch up, right? 

You run into him after class, and he has to catch you before you stumble to the floor. It's a scene straight out of the kind of anime you love to watch. A sign for you to take another chance, except Minho speaks before you can. 

"No."

You haven't even said a word, and you’ve already been shot down. An arrow through your heart, but it seems cupid isn't on your side.

Are you that obvious? Could Minho read minds? Does he really not like you?

"What? I didn't even ask-"

"I won't go out with you."

Ah. Well. Minho hasn't told you that he doesn't like you, though you aren't sure if you could handle hearing those words straight from him. 

"That wasn't what I was going to say," you lie. Your voice is strained, and you can't meet his eyes, so maybe it's not believable. But you can't admit the truth, can you? "I wanted to ask if you had any movie recommendations." 

Minho raises an eyebrow. He's not fooled. Still he goes along with it and makes some suggestions. Not that you’re really paying attention to his words as much as how his voice sounds. 

Minho. It's always been Minho. 

And you were the constant in his life, at least until Heather showed up.

It's hard to admit that she might have stolen the role that was meant for you, but you can't move ahead without accepting that. 

Turns out Minho isn't just on a different page. The title of the book doesn't match either.

You are lost, clueless of what lies ahead. There's one thing you're certain of though.

Even if you’re disqualified as a heroine, your only hero is Minho. 

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[acourtofthought]

I feel like previous anon doesn't understand the Context as well.

Rhys didn't immediatly forbid Azriel from seeing Elain. He questioned him first, gave him the chance to explain to see what his intentions are. Azriel told him and it basically disgusted Rhys. He then ask him what he'll do about it to which Az didn't gave an answer to but we know what his answer is "He didn't got that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to". Before her forbid it, Rhys told us the danger that could happen.

Rhys doesn't do that for Lucien's sake. He most likely doesn't give a sh*t about him. Lucien is a political bomb and has strong connections to nearly every court. If Lucien finds out and he'll decide to not work for the NC anymore, the NC loses ties with the human lands, Spring court and maybe even the dawn court. If Helion and Lucien find out they're related, NC might lose their ties with the DC as well for keeping it a secret and the way they treated Lucien.

Doesn't matter wether or not Elain is interested, she hasn't done anything regarding the mating bond. Why would Rhys want to lose strong allies, just for reckless kids to have fun for like... what? 2 months?

Of course El/riel would still have to face these problems, if Azriel was actually in love with Elain, but Rhys reaction would be different.

ALLLLLL the things you said.

First off, Rhys asked Az if he was out of his mind and Az's response?

"I don't know what you're talking about", after donning his frozen mask.

Az starts this all off with pretending to be ignorant.

Then Rhys spells it out for Az, that he was about to kiss Elain out in the open for anyone to see including her mate and what does Az do?

Once again Az ignores answering directly and instead says "what if the Cauldron was wrong?"

To which Rhys replies, "what of Mor?"

Because Rhys KNOWS Az has been in love WITH HIS COUSIN for centuries. But now suddenly he's ready to kiss his sister-in-law? I think that warrants explanation, don't you? Both of these females are Rhys's family so it's not really out of line for him to question what Az's intentions are with either one.

Yet once again, Az chooses not to give him any kind of reassurance, "I'm letting go of Mor." "I feel something for Elain I've never felt." "Elain makes me happy." I mean he would have literally said ANYTHING about Elain as a person or how he makes him feel but Az decides to go with:

"You guys got two sisters and I'm the third brother so why didn't I get the third sister because that would be fair?" I'm paraphrasing but that is what it amounts to. He wants Elain because his brothers got mated to sisters so why didn't he? He said nothing of wanting Elain because of who she is. Who she's related to should have no bearing on why Az wants her.

Then Rhys gets pissed and asks exactly what his plan is when it comes to Elain. Az can see Rhys is pissed so now would be a good time (for someone who is supposed to be intelligent, correct?) to ease his concerns. But instead he says nothing and thinks to himself that he doesn't have a plan in regards to Elain, not beyond jerking himself off at night.

It's a riot that E/riels think we have an issue with masturbation. Give me all the smut, SJM could be even more graphic and I'd have no problem with that. However in a romance book, I want there to be romance along with the smut. I don't want the MMC's plans for the FMC to have only gotten so far as to involve her being his sperm receptacle especially after he's had a "crush" on her for a year.

So now is when Rhys lays down his order and brings up the political aspect of things because everything Az has said or hasn't said is a complete joke up to this point. From Rhys's perspective, Az is willing to risk the peace in their world to get laid and it's valid for him to think that because Az has not said otherwise. Rhys tells him to stay away and in classic Az fashion he tries to disobey Rhys because he doesn't like being given orders (canon throughout the series).

Rhys then says, "if you need someone to fuck, pay for it at the pleasure hall".

If this were not the truth......then this would be another moment for Az to deny it vehemently. Sorry but if I loved a girl and my best friend thought I was just using her for sex, I would speak up. I would make him understand. But instead Az walks away, being knocked from his anger which clouded his judgement and he admits to himself that the night was a mistake.

People love to use these lines in favor of E/riel, showing his angst but:

"Knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he'd do something he regretted. He'd been vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight.....tonight had proved he'd been right to do so."

If Az stayed at the River House after all, went to her room and something happened between them, he's telling us it would be something he regretted. He's telling us that he's avoided her because nearly kissing on Solstice turned out to be the wrong thing.

If Az went to Elain's room to apologize and they shared a moment, why would that be something he regretted? Shouldn't she be worth whatever came their way as a result? Shouldn't he care enough to sit and talk to her and make a plan?

If he loves Elain then why when he left Rhys were his thoughts not, "he just doesn't understand how I feel about her?" Why were his thoughts instead, "I knew this would be a bad idea?"

And why if we're meant to remain focused on Elain and Az did the chapter morph into how much better he felt after being around Gwyn? And why did it end with something glowing in his chest for Gwyn and not Elain?

Do E/riels honestly want to see a Gwyn / Az / Elain love triangle?

Because I hate to say it, he's already shown admiration for Gwyn in a way he hasn't for Elain. He already believes in Gwyn more than he believes in Elain. And yes, Az called Elain beautiful but not "the most beautiful female" he'd seen (cause you know that's something E/riels love to hang on to). Cassian calls Elain beautiful too. Eris notes that his brothers mate is a beauty. Rhys comments on it. And Graysen let Elain go despite her beauty so I think it's clear that not only is beauty not enough to hold on to someone but there is still the very real possibility that the most beautiful female Az has ever seen will be Gwyn (just as Cassian noted Nesta as the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in SF but not before). Beautiful in this world means nothing because everyone is beautiful. And yeah, it's part of Elain's character because people tend to think there's nothing beyond her beauty since that's what they focus on, even her mother at a young age, however in this series only Lucien has ever thought of her as the most beautiful female he'd ever seen, a big deal considering he instantly felt guilty for thinking that of her, worrying that it was a betrayal to Jesminda. Az might think Elain is beautiful but it didn't sucker punch him in the way it did Lucien. Elain's beauty impacted Lucien to the point that it caused a torrent of emotions while Az is pretty matter of fact about it.

And if Az was able to start moving on from Mor after 500 centuries to develop a fixation on Elain for a year, then it should really only take him a few weeks to drop his fixation on Elain and move on to Gwyn. Not that I think SJM will do that because a break from the female variety would do him good but you get what I mean. I do think he'll easily move on from Elain, take time to deal with his issues including Mor, then he and Gwyns arc will build further.

Wouldn't it be better to admit that the Az and Elain pairing has now gotten way too messy, where Az couldn't reassure his best friend he had actual feeling for her? Where Az now has another women who brings out something in him we've yet to see?

If you honestly want what's best for Elain than how can anyone think it's Az after the thought of Gwyn's happiness causing something in his chest to glow?

Is it not insanely clear at this point that the male who is not cruel and does not seek revenge, who has longed for her for 2 years but denied his suffering so she could try and go back to her fiancé, who has never once pressured her about the bond, who literally has Sunshine in his blood, who can hold her in his arms at night and tell her stories about her father before they lost him, who does not feel something sparking in his chest for any other woman (and no, laughing with a female is not the same thing) is Elain's best match?