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crowandmousewritingco · 2 months ago

Text

If You're Reading This

Pairing: Joel Miller x nb!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Rating: PG-13, there's no spice. It's all angst bay-beeeeeee

Summary: You met Joel while out on a 'hunting run', you startle him and in return he almost shoots you. After everything settles the two of you get to talking and decide to stay in contact one of the only ways, via letters. Over the time writing each other, you grow feelings for him, and learn things about yourself that you don't know how he'll handle. Telling him, he goes silent, but you refuse to give up hope. Will your hope be enough to keep you going?

Author: Mod Crow (Got a new job so life has been ahhhhh)

Author's Note: The reader says their age. This was for @burntheedges' Roll-A-Trope! I was very back and forth on how I wanted this to play out, in the end I'm pretty happy with it.

Masterlist

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide, and mentions of raiders and guns.

Dear Joel,

Thanks for not shooting me today, I wasn’t even in my best attire to die. I’m kidding. Not about the not shooting me thing.

It was nice really meeting someone who didn’t want to kill me or rob me. It was also nice having the help dragging a deer all the way back to this place. I only hope my butchering and fileting skills aren’t getting rusty. But hey, if they are, you said something about you showing me “the way it’s done in the big beauty of Texas” or however you worded it. I know you aren’t here, but I need you to know that I’m currently laughing. I made myself laugh. Gods, I’m losing it aren’t I?

Anyways, I should probably start cooking myself something to eat before the sun goes down. If you ever head this way and stop at this place, you should leave me a little letter or something. Obviously, I left this one for you in an obvious spot -and that’s what you should do as well- then after that we can start putting them in more well-hidden places, we can’t have someone finding them before we have a chance to. But that’s for the next letter.

-Y.F.

P.S. Y.F. means your favorite, I know what I am, you don’t have to tell me.

Hey Smartass,

Now that I like the sound of. Oh, and drop the formality, I’m not your pen pal or some shit like that. Ellie wanted me to tell you that “if you try to replace her as my favorite, she will stab you”. I don’t pick favorites. Just so you know. I haven’t had a favorite person in a while now…

God let’s stop talking about the sad shit anymore. I saw a baby squirrel on the porch as I was walking up. I thought maybe he had lost his mama or daddy; I’m thinking that’s what he also thought because when one of his -what I can only assume- parents came back they had scared that poor little thing so bad that he damn near jumped three feet high. I was kind of wishing you could have seen it, I remember you telling me how much you loved nature and all that stuff. Don’t read into that.

Anyways, I don’t know what it’s like heading up from the southwest, but Ellie and I ran into more raiders than we normally do. I don’t know why there’s more, but I’m not liking how things are looking.

I left you some ammo and rations hidden in the fireplace. Ellie left you something, she wouldn’t tell me, besides that it was hidden in the bathroom. That’s all she told me, so I’m guessing that means good luck.

-Joel

I’m not calling you my favorite, I don’t have a favorite between you two nuisances

Dear party-pooper,

Yes, that’s what I’m calling you from now on, you fucking party-pooper. ANYWAYS, I found your stash, thanks. The ammo was a life saver…literally…the rations could have at least been a good one. You left me some beef jerky (the only good thing in that damn ration), some stale ass cracker, and some unidentifiable fruit-like substance.

The raiders though, they’ve actually been better. Based on my guess, I think they might have migrated up your way. If you think it’s getting too bad for a bit, I get that, don’t feel pressured to write me back whenever you’re here next.

On a lighter note, Ellie hid a book that she’d think I’d like. So far, her shot in the dark has struck bull’s-eye. Tell her I said thank you. As for where she hid it -you’re gonna love this- she pulled the medicine cabinet off the upstairs bathroom’s wall, knocked out a small bit of drywall, and hid it in the wall before replacing the cabinet. It took me far longer than it should have, but who the fuck would look behind the cabinet on the wall? The cabinet, mind you, looked like it had never been pulled off the wall. Fuck, I really gotta give her credit for how creative she is with hiding places. You should take notes. Your hiding spots in the past have been…kinda in plain sight. Love you old man, but you suck at hiding. Expect, I give you credit to this last drop, up the chimney fluke. Maybe you still have it in you after all, old man.

Anyways…I left some things for you in the door of the fridge. It’s not much this time, things have been rough at this place. We let in this new couple, and they’ve been super suspicious. The first night they were here, the woman -Gabrielle- was found snooping around in the owner of the farm’s wife’s dresser. Gabrielle couldn’t give us a straight answer as to why she was snooping. That wasn’t even the weirdest bit, that same night the man -Kenneth- was snooping around in ALL of our shit. I woke up at gods only know, probably 3 or 4 in the morning. I didn’t think he got any of shit. I didn’t look though, and that’s on me. He got away with most of the things I was going to give you, what he didn’t take is hidden for you. I left Ellie some magazines I found about alternative bands from before the pandemic. I don’t even know if she knows what alternative music is, gods you probably don’t know what alternative music is. I’ll explain that to you in person one of these days.

-Your favorite nuisance

You fucking child,

You and Ellie act like the exact same person sometimes I swear. Sometimes I feel like it’s just Ellie leaving me these notes.

Forget all that, you said that the ammo I stashed for you came in handy? What happened? Are you okay? Were you injured? What happened to the other guy? That’s something I would have paid to see. If half of what the shit you’ve said in the past were true, then you’re a pretty good aim.

What you left me enough, the granola was honestly a god sent. You have no idea how boring coffee was getting. Ellie also said -and I quote- “Hell yeah these bitches look sick.” I have no idea where she’s heard that, because it sure as hell wasn’t me.

Backtracking -kind of- I know we’ve talked raiders, how have those fucking clickers been? I think because of that “migration” or whatever the hell you called it, they’ve been out there killing those fuckers while they snuck through the shadows. Our raider problem went up, but the clicker problem. It’s been too quiet recently. But following that thought, your raider problem went down, so that means your clicker problem got worse. Didn’t it? Fuck… You’re a pain in my ass, but I like this banter I get to have. You should come with Ellie and I back to our little place. It isn’t much, but Ellie’s been complaining that where we are isn’t “comfortable”. I swear she says what she says just to test my patience. But, yeah, Ellie would love it. She’d never shut up and it wouldn’t be me for once. Just give us the when and we’ll meet you here.

-Joel M.

Hey grumpy,

I think I like this nickname the best so far. I do swear one thing to you grumps, I am 100% NOT Ellie. I’m your…something. I’ve been kinda held up in my room at the farm this past week. I’ve been thinking about some things after the raiders. That’s not something I lied about; I am a pretty good shot. So was the leader of the little gang. He was 100% aiming for my head, I’m only alive because I got lucky. He drew his gun quicker than I did, he aimed quicker than I could, and he pulled that fucking trigger before I could…His gun jammed. It took me a minute to even register that I was still alive. When I realized though, gods, was I ready. Almost dying makes you really think about how you want to be remembered by people.

I don’t even know if what I’m thinking would make sense to you. Ellie might, but all she’s ever known is…well whatever it is she grew up knowing. These are things that I haven’t thought about since…fuck, well before the outbreak. Bare with me as I try to figure out to explain this in writing that isn’t going to be a fucking novel.

Actually, before I do that, I want to get this out there first. if you aren’t sure you want to be a part of this emotional blah, I got lucky. Ken left his bag open in Gabrielle’s room right next to her bag in her room! What’s even better? Neither of them were anywhere near the bags, Gabrielle was helping with dinner and Ken was helping with fence repair. I left you just under half of the ammo they had -hey, gotta keep myself safe- and Ken’s utility hatchet like thing (you’ll see what I mean). I also snatched you some more granola. I have no idea how this old couple is doing it, but they have so many oats. They also have a fucking bee house! You know what that means? Fresh honey! And just for you grumps, I snatched a mason jar for the two of you. Honey’s also good for a sore throat. I know it’s getting cold out there. I’ve actually been knitting (I know, I must be lying about my age. I’m not, I swear. I learned how to knit because of my grandma. When I was probably six or seven, I made a huge deal out of wanting to learn to do what my grandma was doing. So, she taught me. After the outbreak, I needed something to do with my hands, otherwise things…things would be incredibly different right now. Gods, sorry about the ramble.) some scarves for the two of you. You have no idea how much yarn got left behind in the stores. If after you read this, you decide you still want me to go with you I will. We can do it the weekend after next. Next week is my birthday and Marieann and George (the old couple of the farm) told me that it was “my day to relax and rest up after the hard year.” Who am I to go against what a sweet old lady tells me to do? That being said, I don’t like not knowing what’s going on and how the two of you are doing. At this point, what’s even the point of keeping track of birthdays anymore? Like, “Yay I lived another horrid year on this dying hunk of space rock, can’t wait to suffer through another one! Anyways, I'm sneaking out past curfew to leave you a note if the plan has changed. Anywho…I found more magazines for Ellie. I’ve hid them in the pantry. She’s smart. Your is hidden in the basement behind that dresser, it’s the same idea as what the kid did in the upstairs bathroom cabinet.

Back to the emotional blah…If anything I write doesn’t make sense, you can try asking Ellie. She may know. Gods, I thought it would be easier to write this out, not having to see your weathered (ignore that) expression change. To what? I don’t know. Anything? Fuck it…Joel when we meet, I thought I had figured myself out. When I met you, I was sure I was a woman. I don’t think that I am…I’m not a man either though. I’m neither? I don’t know how to explain this. Okay, so I was she/her when we met, you were -and still are- he/him. Well, if I’m neither of them I have to have a way to refer to myself, right? I do, instead of she or he, I’m…them. Or they! Well, it’s more like both, they/them. Gods I’m shaking so bad right now haha, I’m just really scared of losing you two…You two have been the first good thing since this shitstorm started. I know I can’t make you write me back, but I can ask you to at least leave me something saying you’ll either come back and write a new note or some kind of…I don’t know sign? That doesn’t feel like the right word, but note isn’t the word I want to use…I don’t know Joel, just please leave something. I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll keep coming back till I get another note from you. Even if that means I die doing this because you chose to leave, and I wouldn’t hate you for it.

That’s all I’ve to say. I really do…like you Joel, when thinking, remember I am the person from all of those letters and the few times we met.

-Your Raven no Magpie also no Crow now that’s one I like

Joel,

Hey, I came back this weekend, I’m 26 now! Yay! I’m not going to lie; I’m terrified right now. The clickers are getting worse around the farm, they aren’t too bad on the way here yet, but I know they will be.

I checked to see if you took the stuff, and you did. I saw that Ellie left me a comic book and a band shirt from one of those mags I gave her. I can’t believe she was able to find one, let alone one in my size. I also saw that you left me some ammo and another ration. I know it isn’t much, but it’s something. It gives me hope, and that’s all most of us have nowadays. Along with that hope, I also hope that you'll come back again. If that’s the case, I’ve left you both some things, same places as last.

Joel, for you, more granola (enough for the both of you), a scarf for you, some peach preserves (Marieann opened up some preserves she had made to be opened about this time), and some bread I baked. I warn the bread isn’t pretty, but with the chill, it should last a bit longer.

For Ellie, her scarf, a couple of mangas I found (this will be fun to hear how that goes), a Swiss army knife I found on a dead raider (I know it’s gruesome, but it’s the world we live in now), and a slightly used deck of cards. I felt like she could find a way to entertain herself why you do whatever it is you do when you want to be alone.

-Your hope filled Crow

Hey again,

You took the things again, and you left some more for me. It’s still something. No matter how little. It just hit me, these letters are going to be getting shorter and shorter until I hear from you huh?

Should I even keep writing to you? Maybe don’t answer that. Or do. You take all the time you need. I’m leaving you guys some more things, the same place as before.

-Your Crow

Hey,

I’m sorry about how long it took, I’ll be honest, I didn’t understand at all, and it freaked me out a bit. I asked Ellie if she they understood it and they did. They also came to realize that about themselves too. No, I don't fully understand it, but I’m willing to learn.

Thanks for the scarves, they’ve really helped with the chill at night. Ellie was so intrigued by that one that I’m guessing was the manga. I have no idea if they figured it out, but they’re having a blast trying.

The clickers have been a bit more active around us too. I wonder where they’re all coming from though.

Ellie and I are ready to head out, just tell us when. We’ve gathered all we could, the rest of the stuff we’re leaving is replaceable. Thanks to your scarf we’ve managed to carry a bit more stuff, not the way you meant for them to be used but they’re multifaceted.

I don’t know if Ellie has anything to leave, but I’m assuming it’s in the bathroom. I don’t have much to leave, I found some yarn. I just happened upon it when looting some cars on the main road. I also found a broken bow. I don’t know if you can fix it, but maybe that old man, George(?) could fix it, or maybe someone else in the house. They’re in the basement, it’s the only place they’d fit.

I want to help you keep that hope alive. I have one of my own, I hope we can get somewhere warm and safe together.

Joel, with…

Holy fuck,

Joel, you came back?! Thank you fuck…thank you. If you could see me, I am a mess right now. Gods you’d get a kick.

I wasn’t able to fix the bow, but George was! I guess he used to bow hunt back in the day. He said it may take him a bit; he has to dig out his tools. I’ll leave a letter the night before with an update. If you find a letter then there’s kink in the plans, if you don’t find a letter then it’s because I was there waiting, or I died. Or some other third thing, I like being dramatic sometimes.

With this plan may be happening, I’m not leaving much. This time it’s a kindle of firewood. Dry firewood hidden in the sugar in a mason jar. I remember you saying you drank coffee, and you were growing tired of the taste. So have some sugar, make it sweeter. Maybe add honey too.

-Your Crow

Dear Joel,

I know you hate the formality of these kinds of letters, but for once, just let it be. See the thing is I’m writing this as a “worst case scenario” kinda thing… I started writing about an hour ago for me, gods only know how long it’s been for you. To put in perspective the time difference, I’m writing this the same day I read your letter you had left, the letter about the plans about me coming with the two of you to find somewhere else.

I don’t know what has happened to me to force my hand in leaving this letter, but if I had to take a shot in the dark, I’ve probably been shot by other survivors. I’ve been bitten. If I remember, I’ll try to come back and write what really happened. Anyways, I know we had a plan, I also know that you’re a strong man. You don’t need me; I would have just slowed you down. So now you have to promise me you’ll keep that kid safe. Oh, and if you happen to find yourself in Omaha -I know we’re several hundred miles away, but you never know- stop by 1004 Cicada drive. It’s where I was living when all of the shit hit the fan. Now, I won’t be there to give you the tour, so you better not go tracking mud or anything inside.

Look, there are some things in that house that I think could be beneficial to you, I know you’ll find what you need. I have some things out in the garage, there’s some other things in the attic, and then there’s some things down in the basement’s crawl space. Now, it’s going to be dusty and dirty down there, but back before all of this, it was a beautiful basement. I had just finished painting it that beautiful blue color that has since been destroyed by some fucking raiders. Fuck, look at me gushing over my old basement. I must really sound like some weird fucker, huh?

Anyways, if I’m dead and that’s why you’re reading this, I just wanted to tell you some things…Where do I even start? I guess I’ll start light, that’s what you do right? I don’t know why I keep asking questions, I don’t know your answers to them. Gods do I wish I did know your answers, writing this with the unknown has been killing me. If you could see me right now, you’d have a pretty good laugh, I’m shaking like the last fall leaf in a big dying tree in the middle of a tornado. Fuck, I’m rambling…Look I’m really happy we ran into each other when we did, that day you almost shot me in the forest -behind this decrepit house- I lied to you. You asked me why I was out there, I told you I was looking for some animals to catch. I wasn’t…I couldn’t take any more of this bullshit. So, I was gonna beat the zombies to my death, and I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of bringing me back to be some brainless creature monster. I was going to paint a bit of the forest with gray matter. When you insisted on helping me because you also needed food, I was honestly kinda pissed. But now? Now I’m happy you stuck around. Joel, I don’t wanna make you feel any type of way but…You are the only reason I’m still here on this shithole of a planet. Also…you sticking around had affected me in ways I wasn’t expecting…Joel thanks to you Joel, spending all of that time with you, getting to actually know you, exchanging stories, all of that shit. All of that meant means far more than you could understand, and in that time, I grew to fell in love with you Joel.

I should have told you in person not through a piece of paper. I know there isn’t much I can say now…. but I am sorry. I wish I could have told you in person, I really do, I wish I could have heard your lips say it back. I can only imagine how your raspy, yet honeysuckle sweet voice would say those three words “I. Love. You.” Gods the thought of it…

Anyways, if I keep going, I might accidently write you a book. For whatever reason it is that made me tell you where to find this, I’m happy I got to meet you when I did. Make sure to tell Ellie I said hi. You make sure you keep that girl safe or so Gods help you, Joel Miller.

-Your Crow, with love

P.S. Joel I don’t know how much longer I have till I turn, but I just wanted to say before I die, I love you Joel, tell Ellie I love her too. I left you my remaining ammo and handgun. I left Ellie my lucky bullet casing -we both know she’ll love it- and my bracelet, the one with that little metal rabbit foot charm. You have no idea how excited I was to leave that lonely farm. I would finally be with people I cared about and who cared about me. Like who actually cared about me.

I had a weird feeling that this is how things would go, so I planned. I know I’m leaving you my handgun and ammo. The handgun only has one bullet right now. You can fill it the rest of the way and leave, or you can do what I was too scared to do in the end…Kill me. Right now, I’m in the kitchen writing this. I don’t feel good, I feel like someone beat me with a lead pipe. My head is throbbing, and I can’t tell if I’m sweating because I’m hot with a fever, or if because of a cold chill.

I thought I’d have a bit of time, you know, write you some more, pour my heart out on paper for you, but I don’t. It wasn’t a deep bite, but it was a bite, nonetheless. I tried to sneak past this clicker, I was doing so well until I lost my balance and stumbled, twisting my ankle. I didn’t try to fight it, I thought I’d have better luck running back here. I didn’t…

I love you Joel, I really really ….

*Joel’s POV*

Your writing at the end was practically ineligible, trailed off almost. Joel wasn’t quite sure, what he was sure of, was the feeling of his heart break. An all too familiar break, one he hadn’t felt since Sarah’s mom…

Joel quickly and silently tore his path through the house, he was certain that you were playing some kind of sick cruel joke.

“Joel. Joel! Come on man,” Joel could hear Ellie, but for some reason his legs wouldn’t stop. He had to prove Ellie wrong, that’s why. Yeah, that makes sense. “Joel, Jesus fucking Christ. STOP!” Hearing Ellie’s loud voice had pulled him to a halt.

“Joel, I know you loved them man, I did too. I don’t know what hell-bent path you’re on, but you aren’t going to find them okay. I know,” Joel looked to Ellie, his unfocused eyes taking a moment. When his eyes finally focused, he could see it, he could see the tears that were pouring from Ellie’s face. That’s when he realized he too was crying. “I looked for them after I found their rabbit’s foot bracelet. I think they’re in the basement, the door is locked or jammed. I can’t get it open.” Joel swallowed the pained howls that wanted to rip through his tired body. Clearing his throat, Joel quickly wiped his face on his jacket sleeve.

“You stay up here; I’ll get it figured out. No matter what, I don’t care if you're curious or something else, don’t under any circumstances come down there am I clear?” Joel clenched his jaw, he needed something to focus on something, so why not something he can do.

Ellie never responded verbally, but Joel saw the stiff nod. Turning from Ellie Joel tried to make quick work of finding the things you left. It took him far less time than he expected. Joel also found a key; one he could only assume you left. It wasn’t particularly noteworthy or showy, but if he had to guess, it would unlock that basement door. Was that even something he wanted to do? Kill you? Or rather, kill the already dead you?

Heading back to the dining room, Joel looked at the things he had found in the house. The one catching his attention first? Your handgun. The one with only one bullet loaded in it. Picking up the gun, Joel examined it in his hand, the handle was worn, faint groves noticeable to the touch. The metal on it had definitely seen better days, days when the metal was clean and before it was used in all of this shit.

Swallowing the lump in his throat down, Joel took the key -along with the gun- to the basement door. Standing there, Joel simply stared at the handle. God only knows how long he stood there, but hearing Ellie walk into the dining room, pulled him back to the doorknob in hand. Gripping the gun tighter, Joel carefully put the key into the knob. Giving it a trying twist, Joel felt it resist for a second, before a soft ‘click’ could be heard. Gripping the knob, Joel twisted it slowly and carefully pulled the door open. There wasn’t a single sound coming from the basement, maybe you had found a way to do this. Something he was now dreading. Readying the gun, Joel carefully made his way down the stairs, trying to be as light as possible on his feet.

Once his feet hit the basement floor, Joel clicked on his flashlight. The basement wasn’t huge by any means, but it did have a smaller room off the back wall. Walking towards the doorway, Joel practically held his breath to listen for the all too well known cl-

The sound of clicking slowly filling the air as he grew closer. The sound put him to a stop. Can he really do this? Yes, because you shouldn’t have to be one of them. Clenching his jaw Joel continued on.

In the doorway, Joel could barely make out the shadow of you, or at least what used to be you. It was kind of hard to tell for certain where the bite was for certain, but it seemed as if it was your shoulder. As he stood there, Joel was silent, he wanted to remember what you were like, this wasn’t you and he knew that. You were gone by now, long gone and he knew that. Raising the gun, Joel closed his eyes for a moment. Opening his eyes, Joel cocked the handgun, the click of the hammer grabbing your attention. Staring at what used to be your face, Joel could feel the tears run down his face.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker my Crow.” His last word punched through the silence, with the loud echo of a spent shell.

'''''''

The divider was made by the beautiful @mikeykuns

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esamastation · 1 year ago

Text

Part fifty of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine

There hadn't been all that many duels in PIDW. There was Sha Hualing's invasion, sure, but Shen Qingqiu barely even needed to fight there, he'd just let his sword fly and do all the talking, and that was fine. There'd been other fights, of course, serious fights against demons and beasts, but not that many formal duels.

Most of the fighting Shen Qingqiu had done had been sparring - and a great majority of that against his students. He was primarily a teacher, after all, not a frontline combatant, and he enjoyed sparring with his cute little disciples. There was nothing greater than seeing your student realise they were improving.

It, probably, left him with some bad habits, when it comes to duelling. He can't quite turn off the censorious eye of a master, looking for flaws in his opponent's stances, looking where they have room left to improve.

Deng Yuto is technically very good, his form is solid and his blows precise, he's clearly been taught by a good teacher. But he's very stiff and formal and puts too much emphasis on the transitions - something that can become a habit when you learn your forms in big groups.

If he was one of Shen Qingqiu's students, he'd be praising him for his efforts and telling him to let loose, to set aside the lessons and really go with the flow! He clearly has the techniques down - now is the time to learn how to apply them freely!

But Deng Yuto isn't Shen Qingqiu's student.

He's Sephiroth's opponent. And Sephiroth is probably supposed to kill him.

Blocking another technically perfect but very stiff attack with Masamune, Sephiroth considers his options. Angeal is standing somewhere behind him, radiating concern and worry and fear. Reno is hiding in the woods nearby and probably recording everything, if not on video - because cameras here are still huge and hard to lug around, thankfully - then in writing. And across from Sephiroth, behind his opponent, stands a squad of Wutai warriors, cheering for their captain and nervously waiting for the outcome.

Sephiroth wishes he had time to analyse their character design. It's delightfully mixed. Sleeveless tangzhuang shirts with more Japanese armour - what is it with this world and their disdain for sleeves, anyway? SOLDIER with their sleeveless turtlenecks, and now this. What, is everyone living for their next chance to flex their biceps or something? Don't they get cold? Tch!

Sadly, it probably means he can't find a proper Xianxia style hanfu in Wutai. Shame.

Deng Yuto steps back, swinging his spear decisively. "Fight me seriously!" he demands, and Sephiroth realises he'd fallen into a teacher's mindset after all, stepping back and letting his opponent lead.

"Ah," Sephiroth sighs. He's being insulting to his opponent. "Very well. If that's what you want."

His opponent braces himself, pale but determined. Behind him his men fall quiet, watching with expectant horror. It's painfully clear what they expect.

Aiyah, guess he better make it quick and impressive for them!

Sephiroth salutes his opponent with the Masamune - and then slices Deng Yutos gunspear into four pieces and finishes with the edge of his blade at the man's throat.

"You're finished," Sephiroth says to the man left holding the remains of his spear shaft. "Yield."

Judging by the look the man gives him, he might've as well told him to dance a jig. "What?"

Your life, man! Take it! "Yield."

Deng Yuto's hands shake and he drops his spear. "I do not," he says. "I challenged you for my men's lives - I will not yield them."

What? "I don't want your men's lives," Sephiroth says, exasperated. "And I don't want to take yours. Yield and leave."

The silence is deafening.

Then, "... Maybe the butchers at Shinra have finally given the Demon a full lobotomy?" someone in the Wutai group suggests, in Mandarin.

Which is kind of confusing for Sephiroth's brain because he kind of hadn't realised they weren't speaking Mandarin before? Uh…

"It must be some kind of trick."

"He's lost his mind…"

"Hasn't he always been insane?"

"We can't trust him - the Demon is a monster, he has no honour. They let us go and follow us to kill the lord -"

Sephiroth looks at them over Deng Yuto's shoulder, blinking slowly. For a moment he thinks of doing or saying nothing… but his drama-loving heart couldn't bear letting this go. "What thick faces Wutai warriors have, to say such things right in front of the one they're insulting."

The captain stiffens and the Wutai warriors all go very quiet. "Oh, great," Angeal mutters behind Sephiroth. "Now what?"

"Who taught you to speak our tongue?" Deng Yuto asks warily.

"No one. This one simply learned," Sephiroth answers and arches a brow. "Is this Sephiroth not allowed? Is the language sacred?"

"... Your mode of speech is archaic," Deng Yuto comments, looking confused.

Ah, well. Probably! That's what happens when you end up as a highly respectable Peak Lord in a Xianxia stallion novel for years! Though he doesn't have that big of a sample yet, the way the Wutai soldiers speak the language sounds a little rude to him. So informal!

With a scoff, Sephiroth draws his sword away and sheathes it. Behind him, Angeal breathes out a sigh of relief.

"You are letting us go?" Deng Yuto asks, unsure.

"Does Captain Yuto wish to die?" Sephiroth asks plainly and tries to be haughty. Think, big bad. "This Sephiroth will oblige, should Captain Yuto make it necessary. But as of now, this one has no interest in death."

There's a confused murmur going through the Wutai warriors, though nothing distinct enough to make out. Deng Yuto motions them to be quiet and looks at Sephiroth levelly. "Then what is… Sephiroth's interest here? Why has he come to this place?"

Sephiroth considers his answer and then decides, fuck it. It's not like he's going to fight this war, anyway! "This one is seeking seclusion and an opportunity to better himself."

There's an incredulous wheeze coming from the group of Wutai warriors. "He expects us to believe that?!"

Sephiroth says nothing to that, arching his brows at Deng Yuto. After a moment, the Wutai Captain takes off his helmet, to reveal a man in his thirties with a serious but handsome face and long black hair in a tail. He puts his helmet under his arm and for a moment looks at Sephiroth, clearly trying to figure him out and just as clearly failing.

Ah, he must be really OOC right now. It's surprisingly gratifying! Life without a System is truly great.

"Sephiroth is not here to fight?" Deng Yuto finally asks, slow and incredulous.

Ah, well. "This one can't deny he has orders," Sephiroth admits. "But as things stand, no. This Sephiroth is in seclusion and would rather concentrate on his personal cultivation."

Judging by the reaction that gets, they not only understand the word, but they also get what he means by it. There's shock, some incredulity and what's clearly intrigue in Deng Yuto's face. He looks at Sephiroth like he's seeing something new and strange.

Not that strange, though, it turns out! Whether it's based on Taoism, Buddhism, or something else, it seems like this world has some form of cultivation, after all.

Isn't that an interesting turn of events?

👀

#fanfiction #ff7 #svsss #sephiroth #shen yuan #angeal hewley #shen qingqiu

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fractualized · 2 months ago

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So I saw Joker: Folie à Deux, and I thought it was… fine. Enjoyed myself at parts, felt disappointed at others, which was better than my complicated feelings about Joker. (My reaction was much the same as Jenny Nicholson's.)

Gonna ramble a bit with, like, all the spoilers.

Obviously, since Joker wasn't really a Joker movie, that aspect was highly unlikely to change in the sequel. Perhaps some elements could've moved more in alignment with the General Comics Joker vibe, but that doesn't happen. Funnily enough, in it's own way, this movie is about how it's not a Joker movie!

And then there's Harley. They nixed her accent and bubbliness, of course, 'cause that's not gritty enough. They also called her Lee, while mentioning that her legal name is Harley Quinzel, not Harleen, because the movie industry loves the IP but gets too in their heads about names seeming "grounded" or whatever. Anyway, there's a bit of a fakeout at first where she indicates she's in Arkham because she's a pyromaniac, but we learn midway that she actually went to school for psychiatry and lives with her wealthy parents, and she checked herself into Arkham because she wanted to get closer to Arthur after seeing him murder Murray Franklin. Lying is her way of getting closer to him, and Arthur doesn't mind as much as he should, because she makes him finally feel less alone.

So she is an obsessive Harley, but it's not the typical jarley story, is it? As a Telltale fan, I can't be too spicy about that, though I was wondering if Arthur would try to manipulate her back. He is manipulative, after all. He develops an OK rapport with the Arkham guards, and when his lawyer's psychiatrist asks him leading questions that assume he has DID and Joker is one of his alters, Arthur goes along with that defense, repeating elements of her questions like they're facts. Arthur wants to trust Harley so badly, though, that he doesn't try to deceive her; when they first meet, he even confesses that his mother is among his victims.

It's sad, but it does take it too far from what I want to see in jarley, personally. Even John Doe lied to his Harley!

The end of Harley's story is a let-down. Near the end, Arthur confesses that "Joker" is not an alter; Arthur killed those people and his mother. He says that ultimately there is no Joker, and Harley is disillusioned with this man who inspired her with his audacious violence and leaves the courtroom along with other supporters. Later, when the guilty verdict is read, the proceedings are interrupted by the side of the court room fucking exploding, which was an exciting twist— at least when I assumed it was Harley. I thought she'd had her own break and had decided to take on a chaotic Joker persona of her own. But no. It seems a car bomb was planted by some other random supporter. Harley and Arthur have a final meeting, and she just reiterates her disappointment that he's disowned Joker, and she leaves. Eh.

That actually leads me something that did make me think of Comics Joker, specifically Amnesia Joker from Batman (2011) #48. There've been some recent posts about him, but the poor bastard is often on my mind regardless. The nameless butcher quite obviously wants to stay in his quiet life; even if he doesn't remember explicitly who he used to be, he certainly knows he doesn't want to go back. So when Arthur ends up trying to escape the Joker persona that he embraced by the end of the 2019 film and for much of Folie à Deux, it does align with Joker feeling no fulfillment from his chaos.

Throughout the movie, he seeks that fulfillment in his sudden connection with Lee, which is obviously doomed because of said suddenness. But that's where the music comes in! There's been a lot of "is this a freaking musical or not??" and it is very much a musical using old standards. Both Gaga and Phoenix sing, and for the most part I enjoyed it. I will say, though, that I wish they leaned harder into the musical aspect, with more numbers spinning into fantasy sequences with setpieces, and that they had original songs. But anyway, the point of the songs is to highlight how Arthur finally feels like he's connected with somebody.

But there's no real foundation to the love. Arthur ends up alone back in Arkham, and I don't think we learn if he got an official death sentence before he's horribly stabbed to death by another inmate, who wants to tell him a "joke" with the same punchline delivered to Murray Franklin.

Whereas at the end of the first movie Arthur felt like he got society to finally see him by committing murder and igniting chaos, this movie follows through on how that was just a kind of malicious high. Nobody cares about Arthur; both his supporters and the justice system are responding only to his worst acts, not the whole of his person. Only the lawyer he ends up firing is focused on getting him into a real hospital. When Arthur tries leaning into the power of the Joker persona, it leads to unspecified but brutal abuse by the Arkham guards he once charmed, followed by a horrible scene in solitary. Another inmate sings in solidarity with Arthur, and then Arthur listens to a guard murder him. Arthur's moment of power was fleeting, and in actuality he's still under the thumb of the system (and doesn't live in a franchise where Arkham has a revolving door). He dies in that system.

I'd say it's worth watching if you're prepared for another dose of bleakness, though this time with singing and a little dancing! Often I thought during this movie (and during my rewatch of the first one last night) that there were many elements I wish I could see in an actual Joker movie. Unfortunately since it's "already been done," that chance is probably even lower than it already is. But hey, if we got three different Spider-men in a twenty-year period, maybe I'll see a full Broadway-style, for-reals-supervillain, Batman-loving Joker before I die!

(Oh, I guess I should mention that. The Waynes and their murder don't come up at all, and thank god, because I remain hostilely uninterested in Joker possibly being Thomas's son.)

#joker: folie à deux #joker #harley quinn #my jibber-jabber #spoilers

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aliasnz · 11 months ago

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Undesirable Presents: Le/vi Acker/man for @nametakensff and @kawaii-kushami's snzblr secret santa event <3

Tags: aot/snk-canonverse, allergies (pollen), cold, contagion mention, spray, mess, language. Word count: 2000 (and counting) A/N: I have several apologies to make about this fic >-< First of all, I am so sorry that it is so late! Secondly, I apologize for being unfamiliar with the other fandoms requested, I couldn’t help but feel guilty for writing for my fav. Third thing: just so I can have something out sooner rather than later, please consider this a part 1 that will be edited, updated, and self-reblogged upon completion. Finally, this fic may be too indulgent, but I am crossing my fingers that it is enjoyable anyways ~

If Levi had his way, he would have spent the day in solitude.

His ideal birthday was simply his ideal day. In the warmer months, it would have been a sunrise run followed by a cold shower, his warm sweat and clingy pollen swirled down the drain. Then, his civilian clothes and a walk to the brick cafe at the edge of town. Black tea, white croissant, yellow pages of his favorite novel. Head ducked down and buried in his book, anyone who recognized him - for better or for worse - received the message: leave him be. He would sip until the porcelain ran dry, would stay until his stomach rumbled. With the last hours of daylight, he would stop at the butcher stand and purchase a few ounces of meat. It was about all he could afford on his military salary, but with rare optimism, he preferred to say it was all he cared to buy. Steak dinner for one. Lights out by dark. It was his way.

But Levi hardly ever had things his way.

He was a December baby, as Hange so mockingly put it, who loathed winter cold and winter colds. Instead of that morning jog and downtown stroll, he shuttered himself in his room with intermittent napping and tidying. Some considered his celebration traditions pitiful, but he could not complain. In ways as weighty as a family to visit or write to, yet also in aspects as miniscule as a good night’s sleep, Levi had been cheated in most realms of life. In time, he had come to live with it, found comfort in little joys, and wished the others understood that. That wish was most wanted on his own birthday, for everyone else seemed to celebrate it more than the man himself.

In the depths of his heart, he knew they cared about him. The yearly plethora of visits all accompanied with gifts should have proven that, but he loathed the treatment he received. Perhaps the early symptoms of the annual cold were to blame for that. No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, contagion made quick work of the barracks. Sooner or later, it would catch up to him, and that onset always seemed to hover around his birthday. On occasion, he wondered if he would be better off facing that inevitable infection head on rather than repeating the futile delay, but his train of thought was always cut off one way or another. A pang of headache, a harsh cough, a runny nose, or a sudden sneeze. This time, it was a knock at his door, the first of the day, one of many sure to come.

Levi swung his legs over the side of the bed. Bright rays reflected off the metal buckles of his gear and reflected into his eyes, garnering a wince and dawning thought: just how late did I sleep in? Standing up, he immediately noted how his shoulders felt heavy, his breaths labored. If he had to guess, his cold would take hold of him before the 25th was over. Lucky him.

Hand clamped down hard on the handle, startling the two on the other side just before he creaked his door open. The tall couple cast shadows over him: Nanaba and Miche with -

Shit...

Levi braced himself for their scream, but instead, they spoke calmly, handing over the bouquet with a pair of matching smiles, “Happy Birthday, Levi.”

He startled, not because he was surprised by their presence, but intimidated by their present: a bundle of bright-red poinsettias, pointed with specks of pollen he doubted they had noticed. They were far too innocent to have purposefully gifted him such a slew of allergens. Others, however, he was less sure about.

Instead of reaching out to grab them, Levi crossed his arms and tipped his tongue in refusal - refusal of their gift and refusing to indulge in the sneeze he already felt budding. Speaking quickly, he aimed to rush them out before they could witness his unravel, “I don’t want them.”

“C’monnn, Levi!” Nanaba pleaded, bending at the knees and shooting up again quickly. In her eager bounce, his eyes widened as he watched the petals flutter with her. His arms instinctively flinched before him as if he could block the microscopic wave. “Miche and I stood outside for hours in this freezing cold -”

Great, two more patients upcoming.

“- waiting for the flower shop to open.”

“First in line,” Miche added. “Do you know how popular these things are at this time of year?”

Levi’s stance remained unchanged, Nanaba saw his disinterest and felt compelled to play it up, selling the present rather than gifting it. “They smell good, too!”

Miche, on the other hand, preferred the path of insistence. Snatching the stems from his partner, he thrust them to Levi’s face, nearly touching, “Go on, smell them, you’ll see for yourself.”

He held his breath, reluctant to inhale as long as those were within reach. Aiming for subtlety, he feigned to nonchalantly scratch his nose with his wrist, “If you like them, keep them.”

“Someone’s ungrateful…” Miche teased, unhurt by the shorter man’s attitude, but never passing up an opportunity to rag it. “Y’know, most people would say ‘thanks’ or something…”

Levi frowned, he wasn’t ungrateful. Deep down, he was touched. On the exterior, though, he was objectively irritated, and could understand why they misread him. With a pang of guilt, he sought to correct the miscommunication, but that pang was miniscule compared to the burn of his nostrils, a flame that the leaves were now fanning.

“No, it’s just…” his face scrunched as he attempted to fight it off, just until he could finish the sentence, at least? “It’s… just…”

However, that bouquet was set on denying him. Throwing in the towel, a rare occurrence for humanity's strongest, he whipped around and buried his nose in the crook of his elbow, “Hah’AESCH-ihh!”

Fuck, all three parties unknowingly shared the same thought. For Levi, the nature of his curse was multifaceted. Foremost, the unexpected harshness of that sneeze, the wind knocked out of him first thing in the morning. From that, the daunting notion that this was the first of many sure to come, either from allergies or the cold. Finally, the flush that flooded his cheeks. That outburst had shown enough vulnerability already, Levi lingered behind his arm and remained turned away, waiting for the blush to disappear as well.

Yet, even after those awkward seconds of silence, neither Nanaba nor Miche could erase that image from their mind: his tan coat spotted brown, the mist that shot from beneath his elbow and faded into the room’s sunlit atmosphere. With the captain turned, they allowed their faces to contort with disgust. When his audible sniff confirmed what they thought they saw, they looked to each other and cringed, agreeing that this birthday visit was over.

His comrades did not put the dots together, that the sneeze was a symptom of his allergies rather than the cold that was notably floating through the halls. Fearing for their own immune systems, they retreated several paces, but not before Miche thrust the flowers in Levi’s grip and snapped his hand back, no chance of handing them back now.

By the time Levi turned himself around, arm still bent at his nose, the pair was already a distant blur.

Nanaba waved over her shoulder, “Feel better soon! Don’t come near us until you do!” A joking-not-joking singsong to her departure.

“Have fun with those!” Miche cupped his hand around his mouth, allowing his bid to beckon from down the corridor, “You can thank us later!”

Levi dropped his arm, prepared to call back. Doing so, however, meant that his guard was let down, and he should have known better, that his assailant would be quick to take advantage. With the distance, Levi did not turn or cover - not that he had the time for that - and instead ducked his head down, sneezing onto his own torso. “Hnn’kkshu! Heh-ISHhew!!”

Unfortunately for him, the height at which he landed placed him adjacent to the very bouquet that set him off. A dire proximity, each inhale killed every second - any hope - of relief.

The mess was not only audible, it was tangible, piercing the threads of his button-up and sinking through to his undershirt, summoning a shiver. The clean freak could not bear the sight, nor was it his habit to. After each sneeze and before opening his eyes, he assessed the tickle. If it remained, his lids likewise remained shut until his system managed to kill it. The first attempts at regular breaths informed him outright: you’re not done yet. Levi kept his head down, bangs intercepting his eyeline with each jolt. “Heh’tchew! Kk’shuu!!”

Once again, he paused to survey his own state. Although he beckoned for a break, his body merely mocked him. That all you got? Clearly unsatisfied, with frustration, he submitted to its demands, exacerbating the expulsion as best as he could, aiming to please. “Hah-ESHhew!! HIH’kit-chew! Hah…Hah-AEshih!!”

His intakes had been audible even from those meters away, his fit an early alarm clock for all still asleep in the vicinity. Dammit. As an insomniac, he was especially remorseful to have been responsible for waking anyone on the weekend. Even redder now, he tried to convince himself it was not his fault, that they should have known better than to shove those flowers in his face. However, as his voice crescendoed, it became more of a stretch to blame the gifters rather than the receiver, the inducer over the screamer.

The burn in his sinuses was unbearable, he decided to look to the windows behind him, hoping to coax relief. Before he could lure his gaze that way, though, he caught a glimpse of pity on his teammates, and somehow, that was what bothered him the most.

Fuck, this has to stop. At this point in the fit, breaths were hard to come by, and his life-or-death experiences had molded his mindset to meet his most urgent needs first. Perhaps counterintuitive, Levi understood that defeating the irritant meant battling with it. Working through rather than around. Meeting their eye contact, Levi yanked their gift to his face and took a deep, deliberate intake, figuring that his unconventional strategy could get two messages across: he was allergic to their gift, but at least it was good for something. And maybe they’ll remember this scene come next year.

Indeed, they would, and Levi would be lucky if the memory remained confined to those two. The finale was a sneeze that made them cover their ears and made the last few sleepers snap up in panic. For him, the aftermath resembled the end of a workout: tire and exhaustion, yet inexplicable relief. For them, it read like a newspaper headline: steadfast, hardass germaphobe of the branch soaked in his own saliva and other unspeakable substances. The tight-lipped, ever calm captain engaged in the toughest battle of his life: no titan in sight, but tiny irritants also impossible to see. Screaming the barracks awake, he would have been the last culprit anyone suspected. Only true friends would keep this episode a secret, maybe he shouldn’t have been so terse with them.

Vengefully, and with the slightest bit of told you so, Levi motivated himself through the end with the anticipation of seeing their guilty faces, but by the time he opened his eyes again, they were long gone, either cowering from contagion or gossiping already. Around here, viruses and rumors spread like wildfire.

Worked up and let down, Levi released a shaky exhale, wiped his face with his sleeve, flung the door shut behind him, and tossed the bouquet onto his bed.

One down.

tbc!

#snzblr secret santa 2023 #snz kink #snez kink #snz fic #snez fic #aliasnz's #snz #snez

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allmyocsarebritish · 7 months ago

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Kiss, Maime, Kill: Chapter 5 - Regret?

Pairing: Alastor X killer! F Reader

Warnings!!!: Graphic description of grief and death, ANGST, sorry not sorry, will make up for it eventually, drug metaphor? Basically just the other chapters warnings on steroids

Wordcount: 0.85k

Why was this so fun to write? Should I be concerned? Maybe- Anyway, finally got to use the art I made in March that inspired this, and it's the last human Al of this story :(((

1933

Louisiana, New Orleans

Something was off. You knew it from the start. But, alas, you played it off, assuming the uneasy feeling had risen from the bitter January chill casting shivers down your spine. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that you and Alastor weren't the only ones hiding in the woods that night.

Firmly gripping the butcher's knife in your hand, you followed Alastor further into the marshland. People were scared of you. Not the other way around. You were the killer, the one to be feared, the monster lurking in the woods at night. You repeated this to yourself, wondering what the fuck came over you as you flinched at a wind - tousled hedge.

"Are you alright, Cher?" Alastor asked, drawing closer to you. He caressed your cheek with his free hand as you stared into the trees like a deer in the headlights. "My, my, you're shaking, poor dear! Whatever has gotten into you?"

"I- I don't know, Al. Cold weather I suppose."

His gaze trailed over you for a while longer than necessary, eyes narrowing in concern. "Alright, well then, let's not waste another moment."

A rather uncomfortable silence returned as you continued to trek through the forest, which unsettled you further. "Alastor?" You asked, swallowing thickly.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Did you ever think life would turn out like this?"

Alastor quirked an eyebrow. How reminiscent this was of your confession. Did you need affirmation of his affection? Was that what was wrong?

"I found you without looking, and I love you without trying." He told you simply and with a soft smile, turning to continue onwards.

"I love you too, but that isn't what I meant. I meant do you ever.. regret.. what we do?"

He stopped walking and turned to face you once more.

"Regrets won't change anything, you need to find your peace in the present, no matter how imperfect it may be or how much you wish you could change."

"If you're so sure."

Lighting a cigarette, you reclined against a tree as Alastor wiped the blood off his face with his palm. The slightly insane look in his usually void eyes scared and enticed you all at once. He was invigorating, truly, better than any drug trip. He dropped the knife at the side of this victim, sending a clatter echoing through the forest. Alerting everything of your presence.

"Do you feel better now, Cher?" He asked you, swiping the splatters off your own face with his thumb.

"Only because you're here." You responded, smiling and drawing him in for a kiss.

"Of course." His lips met yours, a slightly metallic taste hinting at the blood spilt in the thicket of trees, before he pulled back and leant against the tree beside yourself. A long drawn out sigh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes in contentment. You passed him the cigarette, from which he took a long drag before snubbing it out against the rough bark and dropping it to the grass underfoot.

Then, within a split second, your entire universe crashed and burned.

The ringing of the gunshot was deafening, making you wince as the ear splitting squeal ripped through air beside you. Alastor jolted backwards with the aggressive impact, slumping against the tree. His eyes were wide and horrified, glasses cracked and broken on the forest floor.

Red. Blood. Pain. Anguish. This was how they had felt. This was their last moments. This was what you did to their families.

"ALASTOR!" Your bloodcurdling scream resembled that of your victims in their last moments as you dropped to your knees at your husband's side. The tears were hot and stinging. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You weren't supposed to be the ones to feel the blinding agony of loss. But you were, and nothing would change that.

"Alastor, Al, please. Please, Allie." You were begging. Begging for what? You didn't know, and it didn't matter because no amount of reduced screaming on your knees would change this. "Please."

"I hope my absence can give you peace and stability in a way you never could experience with me around, Cher" his voice was hoarse and quiet, clearly straining to speak with the sheer pain he was in. "For all the sins I committed in life, loving you was the sweetest one."

"Fuck, Al, please, no, no," What were you saying? You didn't know. Words were tumbling out with no meaning because all you could focus on was the raw grief coursing through your veins and wracking your body with grief.

"I love you, y/n. If only I could absorb your pain and return it as love."

"I love you, Alastor. I always will. Don't go. Don't leave me Alastor. Please Al. Please" the life faded from his eyes as your shrill voice became hoarser. If you could have cradled him there forever you would have, but you couldn't. Acceptance wasn't fathomable, and maybe it was just your grief speaking, but there was something you knew for sure:

You'd meet again.

One day.

You'd meet again.

Part 6!!

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor #human alastor #human alastor x reader

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saltygilmores · 9 months ago

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DANCE MARATHON EPISODE-PART 3

So I had seen this Charity Dance Marathon gimmick on an episode of the Golden Girls (an episode which aired in 1987) and I feel as if I’ve seen it on other shows as well. (fun fact I just learned this week: Gilmore Girls and Golden Girls both shared at least one writer). Were these ever real things or is this just a gimmick made up for sitcoms? Are there real people out there shaking their moneymakers til they drop? Who can actually dance for 24 hours with only minimal breaks? It seems incredibly uncomfortable. See also: Charity bachelor auctions (Seen this gimmick on The Golden Girls again, and The Simpsons). Stars Hollow could never auction off a date with a hunky bachelor because Miss Patty keeps all the eligible single men and teenage boys chained up in her basement. I may have to do some research on these phenomenons.

I already can't stop saying Shug and Shuggy and Shugar at random intervals after seeing Land of Bad yesterday, and Babette is not helping, lol. Maybe on a different timeline, she was Shug's Momma (actually...maybe I shouldn't wish that for dear Babette).

I just want to point out the sign in the background reading: "All students riding a school bus home after school must wait in the gym." Who is so far away they're taking a bus to school in Stars Hollow? Stars Hollow is like four feet long. Maybe there are so few teenagers in The Hollow they have to consolidate with other districts and bus in students from other towns, like seat fillers. Those poor kids, deprived of an education like that.

Everything reminds me of Captain John "Sugar/Shug" Sweet. Sookie informs Lorelai that under duress, she reluctantly agreed to her husband's "four in four" plan (four kids in four years, what is she, a dog?) and now she can't back out or have a conversation with him about it so she has no choice but to lay down and accept his sperm, lest she cause any conflict in their newlywed marriage where things are still bright and shiny and they enjoy sniffing each other in the morning, or something like that.

Tell that to Liz Danes.

That's rich and creamy coming from Ms. "I Almost Married Max Medina Without Discussing Where We Were Going to Live".

This is a janky medical operation we've got going on here. Medical examinations being performed next to open containers of food, no gloves being worn by medical personel or kitchen staff, and massage therapists walking around wearing tshirts saying "Masseuse" on them, because it's important to establish who you're getting massaged by. If it doesn't say Masseuse on the shirt, you might end up getting a rubdown from an unsanctioned random weirdo.

Alexis's is sneering like, "I'm here working 14 hours day in the Los Angeles heat in a heavy coat with a bunch of DORKS when I could be home boinking MY NEW BOYFRIEND MILIO VENTIMIGLIA and touching his BIG WANG! But maybe we can sneak in a quickie behind craft services later"

Mrs Kim is the real star of this episode.

Oh hey Mrs. Stanley Appleman.

Kinky.

If you keep drinking all that coffee, you're going to turn into a Coffee. Or probably have back to back heart attacks.

The clock is ticking to Shane's imminent demise. Hopefully her collapse from excessive blood loss won't get in the way of the other dancers, because Jess is going to butcher her behind the school without any witnesses. He is home sharpening his axe. #MurderOnTheDanceFloor #BetterNotKillTheGroove How the hell did they rustle up 156 couples/ 312 people for this thang anyway?

I love Luke in this episode :)

Pretty rich and creamy coming from you, Miss No Car, No Job, No Pet, One Friend, Butthead Boyfriend, Goes Home From College Every Weekend to Visit Mommy. Kirk has a thousand careers, he will eventually have a pet and a girlfriend, and what reason would you need a car in The Hollow? Except to escape it. Kirk easily has the most interesting life in The Hollow, save for Miss Patty, maybe (who has the most interesting past). He seems pretty content with his life. I love that there's a "security" guard back there. I guess he was sleeping on the job when Shane's cries of agony rang out into the cold Connecticut sky.

Says Miss Lonely Pathetic Existence Also Attending The Same Marathon With Lonely Pathetic Mother And Every Other Lonely Pathetic citizen of the entire town.

YAYYYYY.

If Lane doesn't stop causing so much friction in Hep Alien, she might be replaced with this guy. I'm sure he will get paid equally as much drumming for a group of teenagers as he's currently getting paid to drum for a small town twerk-till-you-drop charity event.

Remember when swing music had a brief resurgence in the late 90s? Those were the days, oh some days they were. But since time stands still in The Hollow, they're actually still on the 1930's wave. This is too much fun and so cute and whimsical and joyous and what a wonderful episode it is. Can't even snark too hard about the dancing. Lowering snark cannons.

They're going to go home and have unbelievable amounts of sex.

You know who else is going to go home after the DM and have an unbelievable amount of sex? I'm sorry. You came to The Thing, Dean! You did the bare minimum! You paid your girlfriend and her mother an uninspired compliment! For that Lorelai will stare at you like a hungry dog salivating over the last scrap of meat on a bone.

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #Dance Marathon #tsgdt #they shoot gilmores dont they #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #luke danes #kirk gleason #babette #sugar #shug #shuggy shug #gilmore girls season 3 #Shane is swan food

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my-fancy-hat · 3 months ago

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A couple of days ago I finished reading Dungeon Meshi, so this post has the objective of offering a general review of my experience and opinions of the manga. I will try to avoid doing an in-depth analysis (gonna fail anyways ik myself) from the perspective of someone who have been observing the fandom from a backseat and does not intent to participe in it much (I've learned my lesson). Even though I couldn't resist spoilers during the time I planned to read it, I loved it! and it frustrates me a bit the idea that maybe I'd have enjoyed it more going full blind, but it is impossible to resist the online osmosis of information esp when its anime aired.

This manga has its story and characters clear, its writing is straight to the point, precise and clever, it trusts and respects the inteligence and feelings of its readers, giving us the essential utensils and ingredients to allow us cook our experience, and to continue cooking and eating for those who want to continue enjoying this rich story. The main dish, the essential theme is to butcher the multifaceted concept of eating. Through its volumes, one gets to discover and savor, in a divine comedy/hero's journey-descent from the circles of hell type of story, the owning of the ultimate primitive truth: the inherent and unstopable need to eat, the principle on which life is sustained, the element of addiction and connection.

I loved how dungeon meshi touches on complex conflicts related to the interpretations that can be given to its premise: devouring as a metaphor for oppression and destruction of rights between races, as can be seen in the subtle yet constant racial clash between long-lived and short-lived races. Eat also stands for desecration and usurpation of the self, embodied in the winged lion nurturing, creating emotionally dependent channels of power with the lords of the dungeons climaxing in the transgression and vore of their desires, the consummation of their intrinsic life essence, can't help thinking of it as groom and SA metaphors. We can also elevate our heads to christianity and eating becomes the way of in which humanity "devour god" and proclaims its death and independence from his unconditional goodness, crowning their place at the top of the food chain, in how Laios eats the winged lion’s desires and brings humanity back to the finite. Every living being yearns for the infinite, the dissolution of uncertainty and resentments through the promise of ethernal fullfilment. But eating, or rather, the deprivation of food, its absence as a symbol of slavery in Thistle, who had to intoxicate his soul and his people for a love that has already withered and rotted centuries ago, constipation of the innate desire to want something more, for the sake of someone's else wants, Delgal and his fear of dying.

But not everything can be catastrophic, on the act of destruction is the rejoice of creation. Eating calls for the act of cooking and connection, acceptance, as Falin, Marcille and Izutsumi accepted that to live they must continue accepting the unpleasant things on the menu, added pain and suffering, is on us if we want to swallow these sour diches in orden to appreciate its miracles. It's also about reconnecting with desire and living selfishly, for the ones who live for others or for a cause, thus reclaiming their humanity and inherit right to wish for more, like Kabru, the survivor's guilt character, making his first selfish act confessing his desire for friendship to Laios, or Mithrun, who like leftovers from a buffet in which him wasn't "appetizing" enough, compotes can still grow under care and compassion and reborn, your new life starts here. In Dungeon Meshi, cooking is sharing love, caring for others and pass on our work and wishes for those in need and cherish, like Marcille feeding a comatose Falin, Senshi to his teammates and the orcs, and Chilchuck and his union. The one who is able to provide and care, is the one who deserves to stand at the top, and that's why Laios' conclusion is beautiful writing. Even though he did indeed have to sacrifice in order to gain, had let go of his dream of a kingdom where humans and monsters could live in harmony (and the monstrosity of his new body), he created a kingdom where every human and demi-human is assured their right to have a plate on their table everyday, because eating is the privilege of the living, and in order to live we must eat. Because more than food, it's the will, the desire to eat when we don't want to, to live even if we are troubled to, whoever wants to survive will do so, because hopes and desires don't die. And as long as your desires exist, there'll be a will that remains in the world and continues to feed it.

Every character in this story (including secondary and tertiary extras) share an inherent desire to continue existing, to take and claim the selfish act of consuming. I mentioned addiction earlier, because it also struck by what it means to consume when there's no need, gluttony, reflected in the winged lion's path to humanization, which makes him quite a tragic character to me. A ilimitless entity dedicated to nurturing and fulfilling humanity's dreams for millennia, he approached and mimicked humankind and consumed desires until he created his own: to fulfill them and be his own master, he decided to subjugate himself descending to earth, to the rules of biology and abandon infinity. In parallel to Laios, who desired monstrosity and sacrificed his humanity, as if it made any difference, he choose the most fitting form for a man who failed to belong, the pain of betrayal of have desired to connect with his species, is one of the most memorable moments in my reading to see the embryo of his monster emerge from his back like a shell or butterfly coming out of its cocoon, a macabre rebirth. However, the winged lion failed to understand humanity, he failed to understand Laios, he underestimated their cruelty and desire for self-destruction "they'd be happy as long as they had their stomachs full" seen in his flashback, and failed (or manipulated Laios into believing so) to understand his kindness. Every meal, every step and bitterness Laios went through, he always tried to understand the unknown, his enemy, he respected his prey and all those who helped him on his way. He respected Thistle's wishes to the end, he accepted that his menu would not be to everyone's liking (Marcille, Kabru) and admired deeply their determination to help him finish their portion, that it's possible to be accepted, even him. Laios loves monsters but he also wants his love for humanity to be mutual: if he wished for the extermination of humanity, why would he want to create a kingdom where everyone can share the meals they like with the people they love? it's a fascinating dichotomy.

Among the things that I "didn't like" or rather say, my personal preferences, are the vast extra content this story has that, at least some of it? could have perfectly been included in the main story. I have read some extras and fun facts of some characters and I think if there were included in the main plot (making sense with the timeline ofc), would have enriched the experience more. Such as Kabru's complex of believing he's half monster/succubus and the fact this belief made a butterfly effect in dragging his mother to Utaya and she dying later. I would have loved to have an entire chapter dedicated to Utaya's tragedy from Kabru or Milsiril's pov, or Mithrun pre and post Lord of the Dungeon days, getting to know more about the cannaries and such. Nonetheless, I am still satisfied with what we got. I'm more than happy to see that Mithrun, Falin and Kabru meet their conclusion with a beginning of a new life ahead.

To grap up this all, (excuse the messiness of this lol but I wanted to write this in the most sincere way!!) I loved this story and I'm currently obsessed with these people, it's been a while since I felt an entire cast like this. it's great and a treat for anyone who likes to read with their mind and heart open, or to just have fun with a dynamic cast, exciting plot twists and rich world-building and a bittersweet but well-deserved ending. This could have been such a more darker story (i'd fw it too) but I'm possitively surprised and glad it maintained it's tone to the end. It makes everything more unique and loyal to its theme of cooking=bonds/nurturing/love. It makes me immensely content to leave this story with the promise of them growing old together like a family. Senshi, Chilchuck, Izutsumi and friends keeping at close, Falin, Marcille, Kabru and Yaad helping Laios in his new life as king of Melini. He will never feel lost or alone again.

#top 5 obv in no particular order: laios mithrun marcille kabru thistle #thistle reminds me of ymir fritz aah #smth that i didn't mention is that i love how dm use foreshadowing. marcille's nightmare=her becoming the next lord of the dungeon #and laios' succubus+WL dream=marcille trying to convice laios to join her as a medium for the WL through his desire of monsterhood #have read the last page with nope by michael abels ost made me tear up likeeeeee #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #reading #long post #sorry in advance if my wording is all over the place translating is exhausting

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fuckyeahhiccannamonth · 5 months ago

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HIIIII HICCANNA NATION, long time no post!!!

Sooooo long story short, a bitch overcommitted HARD last year, and had like 17 Hiccanna month posts that I completely ran out of steam to finish. And then because I felt so guilty I didn't finish THOSE, I also didn't reblog all the incredibly awesome posts the rest of y'all made, and I'm really sorry for not giving my people the love and appreciation they deserve!!! And then, of course, my life from like October through like March became an absolute shitstorm, and I got semi-threatened with eviction and then friend-dumped by one of the most important people in my life D: It was a whole Ordeal™️, and sadly, my brain was too fried to think about my favorite awkward blorbos 💔

BUT BY GOD, THE TIME HAS COME FOR ME TO GET MY LIFE TOGETHER AND PULL THROUGH FOR ALL YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE WHO HAVE MADE THIS FUNKY LITTLE EVENT COME TO LIFE!!! I WILL finish reblogging all of last year's Hiccanna Month posts before the end of this month if it kills me!!! And by god, I WILL have this event again, because it's what y'all deserve!!! I don't have the spoons to post much of my own stuff this year (except maybe some leftovers from last year lol), but I'm going to be more on top of my shit about hyping anyone and everyone who decides to participate :3 I'm so grateful for each and every one of you, and I can't tell you how happy it's made me that you all have made this event for my little rarepair OTP bigger and better than I ever imagined 💚🧡💚🧡

I am, however, following suit for some of the other RotBTFD ship months and cutting down from one prompt a day to two per week for 8 prompts total, with an overarching theme for each week. I honestly don't have the spoons to do a prompt every day this year, although for future Hiccanna months, that could change. The two-a-week format seems to work better for a lot of people anyways, since I've gotten feedback that 31 prompts in a row is, er…pretty overwhelming, to say the least ^^; So two prompts a week for this year, and we will see if people like this format better!

@gryffindorkxdraws a tag for you, as promised 🩵

AND NOW, the prompt list!!! Apologies for only giving you guys a couple weeks of prep time—I know it's usually more ^^; But y'all know I'm flexible about late submissions, and it's totally fine if you submit for Hiccanna month after July! And who knows??? If I'm feeling spicy, I might tack on a bonus week for the first week of August 👀👀👀

WEEK 1—MUSIC Special thanks to @lovestrucklyuniverse for suggesting a focus on music from Hiccup and Anna's movies—I'm enamored with that!!! Of course, these prompts are just suggestions, and if you'd rather make something inspired by a pop song, alternative rock jam, or Eurovision ballad that reminds you of Hiccanna, then have at it!

1. For the Dancing and the Dreaming—A re-imagining of our favorite Viking wedding song with Hiccup and Anna! They're certainly the sort of people who would do all manner of impressive feats and grand gestures to win each other over, but the joke is on them—they don't need to! Sometimes, pledging love and devotion is enough, and there's no need to slay monsters or gift troves upon troves of treasure to prove yourself worthy of someone.

2. More Than Just the Spare—One of my absolute favorite things about these two is how they rise above being overlooked and underappreciated and accomplish some truly spectacular things. This prompt is all about Hiccup and Anna showing that they can be more than anyone ever expected them to be—preferably together, while being madly in love!

WEEK 2—MOVIES AND TV Let's be real—we've all dreamed of seeing Hiccup and Anna interact (and adorably butcher flirting several times) on the big screen. Whether it's through an epic Disney-Dreamworks crossover (god, we all wish, right?!) or imagining Best Awkward Blorbos in your favorite TV show, this week is all about Hiccanna slaying in visual media!

1. Romcoms—Have you ever watched a romcom and gone "You know what would make this better? If it was about Hiccanna!"? Furthermore, have you ever watched a romcom and gone "Well shit, this is literally just about Hiccanna!"? Well, now's your time! Make something inspired by your favorite Hiccanna-coded romcom, or a romcom you desperately believe needs more Hiccanna energy in it! Or, hell, make up a brand-new cheesy romcom plot for these two and make us all swoon 💞

2. Dramas—We forget it sometimes, but not everything in these two dorks' lives is sunshine and rainbows. Hiccup lost a whole-ass leg! Anna almost froze to death! They both grew up lonely, friendless, and (relatively) isolated from their communities! For this prompt, take your favorite drama and Hiccanna-ify it—or aplify the Hiccanna you already see! It can be any subgenre you want—coming-of-age drama, period drama, weird avant-garde indie drama, you name it! Subject those guys to some Dramatics™️ and let us see :3

WEEK 3—LITERATURE AND TEXT PROMPTS This week is all about something so many of us long to have an excuse to do--write about the blorbos! Whether you're looking to try your hand at fic for the first time or you're coming back to add more much-needed Hiccanna into our ever-sparse internet ecosystem, these text prompts will hopefully get your fanfiction juices flowing. Pick your favorite(s) of the four for each day, and write away! If you want to try and do all of them then have at it, but don't stress yourself out!!! I wanna make sure this year's event is as chill and no-pressure as possible, since I know a lot of options can be overwhelming, especially for Anna and I's fellow ADHDers! And if you don't want to commit to writing anything, or writing just isn't your strong suit, that's okay too! Use this week to make something based on any literature that brings Hiccanna to mind, or any literary world you'd love to see our favorite awkward ship in. Happy creating! Also HUGE shout-out to @lilandraws for helping me narrow this down from 40 fucking prompts, because when I tried to just casually make a list of text prompts I liked, I got, um...a bit carried away ^^; Also for giving some absolutely hilarious commentary that singlehandedly got me through the workday, bless 💚💚💚 And thank you to @creativepromptsforwriting for the prompts themselves!

1. Pick your favorite(s)!!! a) “Two bros, chilling in a small bed…” b) “Someone just handed you a cat?” c) “Sorry I tried to kill you.” “It’s fine, but next time you should try harder.” d) “Takes one to know one.”

2. Pick your favorite(s)!!! a) He had prepared himself for all the different ways she could reject him. But what he hadn’t prepared for was for her to actually say yes. b) “Want to hear some random facts about geese?” c) “What are we?” “Human. At least I hope we still are.” d) “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.” “And what are you going to do about that?”

WEEK 4—COMIC BOOKS And now, for the ultimate kick-ass combination of visuals and literature—the visual novel and comic book!!! Since Hiccup and Anna are, fundamentally, animated cartoons (as much as they are much more to all of us!), it seemed fitting to wrap up with this one :3 This week is all about comics, and what epic shenanigans and hijinks can come of Hiccanna-ifying them!

1. Sci-Fi/Fantasy AU—One of the things comic books and visual novels do best is exploring fantastical scenarios and limitless possibilities. The iconic superhero AU is probably the most well-known, but your options don't end there! Do you have a favorite comic about guys on spaceships exploring the galaxy and battling aliens? Or a comic about a party of DnD-style adventurers taking down an evil wizard? Throw some Hiccanna in it and let us see! The sky's the limit, and really, you don't even have to stop there! (Note: Using AUs for ANY of these prompts is real and valid and encouraged, so don't feel like this is the only place where you can use wacky AUs! This is just the one where they have a special focus/emphasis. But AU away whenever you like—Hiccup and Anna kinda require an AU to even be able to interact, so it sort of comes with the territory!)

2. Favorite Comic Book Adaptation AU—Many of us have been lucky enough to see a comic we like be adapted into something else, and can say with confidence that the adaptation kicks absolute ass,, whether it be a movie, TV show, novelization, video game, or whatever else! Like with the previous prompt, superhero comics might be the first thing to come to mind. Of course, I'd be delighted to see Hiccanna in the world of the Spiderverse, Invincible, or your favorite DC or Marvel movie, but keep in mind these aren't your only choices! Something like Scott Pilgrim vs. the World or Netflix's The Sandman would be a totally valid option as well! Have fun and go crazy :3

Aaaaaaand that's all for now! Tag those posts with hiccannamonth2024 or hiccannamonth24 so I can see them and reblog, and happy Hiccanna month-ing! Can't wait to see what everyone comes up with and shower all my love on it 💗💖❤️‍🔥 See you next month!!! We will go through all of July…and beyond >:3

As far as content goes, literally anything is welcome--edits, art, drabbles/fanfic, videos, interpretive dance you record yourself doing that has Hiccanna motifs, it is all fair game as long as it’s Hiccanna-related!

Your ever-determined Hiccanna month hoster person, Fuckyeahhiccannamonth 💚

#hiccanna #hiccannamonth #hiccannamonth2024 #hiccannamonth24 #prompts #hiccannamonth prompts post #hiccup x anna #anna x hiccup #hiccup #anna #hiccupxanna #annaxhiccup #hiccup haddock #princess anna #rotbtd #rotbtfd #httyd #frozen #crossover

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ficyorick · 2 months ago

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"the original ending to the ch3 looked like this. before the very painstaking edit process the whole HL-on-Butchers-lap scene was WAY more... you know. more handsy. i decided to downplay it considerably bc I felt i was jumping the gun too early and im glad i did, i prefer butcher more tortured about the whole thing"

Would you ever consider posting this version on your tumblr? It seems interesting though i agree it would probably be too early

hi anon! i wish i could but unfortunately this wasn't the case of me just cutting out a bit and moving it to "deleted scenes" folder, this was a thorough re-edit, meaning i had to change multiple parts, multiple sentences or just a few words there and there... basically a lot of small changes that aren't as easy to save as a whole scene getting cut . the best i can do is post some excerpts that are from the pre-final edit version of the chapter which is after some editing already :( sorry if there's errors or even editing comments from me to me HEHE i tried to remove all of them

Butcher put out another cigarette in his old drink and patted Homelander’s knee then his own.

"C’mere."

"No." A whine.

"Come sit on my lap."

"Sssicko."

Butcher grabbed his arm and pulled him with force. Another hand on his hip, the cheap costume rustled underneath his grip. Homelander made another undignified noise but he was so pliable, it felt like moving a big pillow on top of him. He was straddling his thighs, hands hanging loose from his sides, far away from Butcher. His eyes were closed as if he couldn’t stand to look at what was happening now.

"You’re ssso sick." Homelander protested but he could only sway back and forth.

"What did you say to her?" Butcher asked, looking up into his face. His heart was beating fast now. The main event.

"Who…"

"Becca."

"Oh Jesus…" Not this again, said Homelander’s tone. He took a deep breath. "Just do it…"

"Do what."

"I dunno, whatever it is you’re going to…." The colorful mess in his lap was slightly swaying back and forth, unable to find balance. Then all of a sudden, he tried to get away but Butcher grabbed him by his hip again, forcing him down. A little gasp: "You’re sick. Sssick."

"Are you scared?" Butcher asked through his clenched teeth.

Homelander shook his head but something wet clung to his lashes anyway.

"I’m not gonna hurt ya." Butcher’s hands moved from the hips to his thighs. A strangled keen from Homelander. "I just want you to feel what she felt."

He shifted his palms further in, moving to the inner side of the splayed, costumed thighs. Homelander tensed up, as much as he could while pumped full of booze. Only one of his eyes was open, peeking at him underneath clumped lashes. He was breathing fast. Butcher huffed out a hot breath of his own that couldn't stay in his lungs anymore. Homelander flinched as if the sound itself was enough to send him into a panic. The palms on his thighs moved up and down, going deeper, further up, with each shifting movement. Butcher absent-mindedly noted that the hands pressing into the cheap fabric didn't even feel like his anymore. The swaying man on his lap was still now, leaning back unnaturally. He was still watching him with just one eye, the other one blind to everything that was happening.

"What are you thinking about?" Butcher asked, no tone, no inclination to his voice. Just a neutral command.

"Wish I could… choke the life out of you." Homelander confessed.

Butcher kept his hands where they were, his fingertips pressed into the spot where the thighs met the pelvis. He wasn’t sure if Homelander could even feel his touch through the foamy muscle padding, but judging by how frozen he still was, he could feel it. Every second of it.

"Okay." Butcher canted his head. "Go ahead. Give it a try."

Homelander didn’t move but Butcher heard him inhale.

"I mean it. Do it."

Suddenly, a pair of clammy hands was closing on his throat. A familiar Homelander snarl rang out above his head. The grasp on his neck didn’t obstruct his breathing in any way, it was struggling to even fully squeeze at him. All it did was make him laugh in a slightly strained way. HLs hands cant even fully close around his throat

"C’mon, put your back into it." He groaned out.

Homelander sunk his fingertips as deep as he could, putting on claw-like pressure. That, he could almost feel.

"There we go, good lad." Butcher grunted and smiled at him.

"Want to kill you so bad." Homelander whined out, his breathing devolving into an open-mouthed panting. "So, so, so bad."

"You can’t. Not anymore." Billy laughed. His hands moved from Homelander’s thighs to the wrists. He could feel zip-tie scars underneath his palms and he swiped over them with pride.

"So bad…" Homelander’s grip was waning, there was no strength left in his drunk arms. He kept slurring words out, just one eye open, his pupil completely blown out: "Kill you so fuckin’ bad… rip your head off… then crush… it."

Butcher grinned, wild-eyed. He was untouchable and the scared little cunt in his lap couldn’t even do anything to fight back.

A hiccup interrupted them and just like that Homelander's entire body wobbled and he collapsed to the side like a felled tree, letting go of Butcher’s throat.

"Fuck…" He complained.

Butcher shoved the limp legs off his lap and got up from the couch. Homelander’s knees were on the floor now and he stepped away from him like he was on fire. Homelander was face down on the green fabric, looking like a doll abandoned mid-play, its limbs bent at weird angles.

"You can’t do anything anymore, cunt." Butcher fumbled for his cigarettes, basically smashing one of them into his mouth and lighting it up. He had to do something with his hands, his limbs were like a live wire now. One puff, two puffs. Fuck.

_____

there was more stuff that i removed... there was actual groping i cut out, i think the choking scene had HL moving closer to Butcher, huffing and puffing at each other and then during the bathroom moment Butcher had more sexually charged revelations about how vulnerable and utterly his HL is and how THAT was making him even more into everything that was happening but i chose to replace all of that with Guilt.

#be deleted scenes

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vestaclinicpod · 1 year ago

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Audio Drama Sunday - 13th August ✨

Happy #AudioDramaSunday, lovely people! I’ve listened to so much audio drama this week and my house is so clean as a result 🫧

SPOILERS BELOW!

🌲@hellofromthehallowoods Starcrossed Gods!! I felt so brave daring to listen to this again. My heart 💔 Marolmar is written so well! Every sentence contains something to flinch at, it makes me sick to hear it all again. I’d also repressed the memory of how gut-wrenching Nikignik’s shouting at the end was, and how much it hurts to hear people trying to sing with a closed up throat. ANYWAY, I’m fine, thank you for asking. I’m not sure if the live show was released early due to logistical reasons, but I am fearful that it’s to provide context for what’s about to happen in the regular episodes (AKA tears and tears and tears for me).

🦀 What an absolute delight to hear from the @thesiltverses cast again! These season recaps are so funny and it’s so heart warming to hear it when the cast of a show are clearly also its biggest fans. I’m SO excited for S3!!

🦮 @malevolentcast (34) what an episode!! If I recall correctly, this is the first time we’ve had an episode entirely without Arthur & John’s perspective? The Butcher is a worthy character to hold that mantle. Do I feel like I understand him more? No. Did I love being along for the ride? Absolutely. It’s also so weird to hear Arthur talking to John out loud when he thinks no-one can hear. I hope he makes it out in time!

📻 @monstrousagonies (107) So thrilled to have this show back and I hope Hero is feeling much better! The first letter was so cute!! I’m sure there are lots of us who can relate to choosing love and kindness when we’re used to the opposite! Whichever bridge that little one finds, I’m sure it’ll be the loveliest by far!!

🌒 @monkeymanproductions gave us the low-down on just how incredibly talented the Moonbase Theta, Out cast are in their Cast Special. Spoiler: Very. It was very wholesome to hear DJ Sylvis hyping everyone up and the episode is full of great AD and other recommendations!

🎙Welcome to Night Vale is back!! I felt particularly targeted by the ad copy in this episode, but I’m sure that was their intention! This ep’s weather was particularly up my street too! I loved the harmonies!

🎞 Tiny Terrors OOF hey so I found out what was up with Angela… and I didn’t like it one bit! I also need to know what the hell was happening at the end there. Jess, girl, you’ve got to stop getting yourself in these situations. It’s too much (for me to listen to)!

🌍 @lastechoespod (8) I can’t believe it’s the last episode! Ishani Kanetkar was wonderful as Trast. I wish we could hear the final decision, but I guess I’ll just have to relisten and try decide for myself . . .

🧛‍♂️ @re-dracula Uhoh, someone’s arrived in Whitby . . . I love Mina so much and Isabel AdomakohYoung is doing amazing job as her VA. She captures the good-hearted intelligence I love so much about the character!

💫 Wolf 359 (38-46 + Special!) Oh MAN this podcast has my entire heart. Isn’t Memoria one of the best episodes of anything ever? Oh, Hera, I love you sooo much!!!!! I also loved the Lovelace cliffhanger at the end of 46 and the special was so different but so good! (Although listening to 2 hours of anything is a challenge!! I need a 20-30 min ep or I can’t fit it into my life)

🎩 @ethicstownpod (7) OH MY GOD. January fans are looking a little bit bloody silly right now! What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On???? Please, if you haven’t yet started listening to this show, now is your time! It’s SO good and has so many twists and turns!!

🥾@doyoucopypod (5) oh my GOD, imagine how horrifying it would be to be out in the woods to grieve your partner, only to hear their voice in the middle of the night. Nope. Absolutely not. Get out of the dead zone!! Wilson remains the goodest boy, even if his growls give me goosebumps!

🎧 In this week’s The First Episode Of, W Keith Tims talks to the creator of Untrue Stories! These interviews are always fantastic and this show sounds so interesting for fans of sci-fi!!

Thanks for reading! I’m so excited for more Regina Prime and to catch up with happenings in the Hallowoods next week! Hope you all have a restful weekend ✨

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rollercoasterwords · 1 year ago

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Omg I just realized-

So I just started reading wfrau (I’m loving it btw) and I remember you saying that no ships, besides wolfstar, were guaranteed. Which made me think that of course there’s a good chance that dorlene won’t end up together.

And then that made me think of one line from the hand that feeds ‘Marlene thought maybe they had gotten it wrong. That her and Dorcas were meant to be lovers. Maybe in another life they would have killed each other’ (or something like that, I’m aware that I totally butchered that quote).

So in this ‘other life’ if Dorcas kills Marlene/Marlene kills Cass that would be so so so amazing. Obviously they are my loves and I don’t wish them harm but like that would be such a full circle moment.

Anyways, whatever direction you decide to go in will perfect and I’m happy to come along for the ride (once I’ve caught up and finished Regs interlude) 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Also this is the second time I’m sending this since it didn’t work the first time but if you see around the same message from me twice that why

lmao love the connections but i'm gonna be real with u i simply am not thinking abt thtf while i'm writing wfrau 🤧 but love that ur like omg i love this ship so much what if they killed each other...ur real 4 that

#ask #thtf #wfrau

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zayray030 · 2 years ago

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🐝anon

I’m starved for ace content lol, I saw you updated your catace fic!! I was actually gonna ask if that one was abandoned when I saw you updated it lolol it’s so good I love catace. Ace is fairly good at reading people so like maybe he can tell something’s a little off about cater but caters gotten so good at hiding that ace is able to push it aside until they get close and ✨feelings✨ happen, I love the “oh fuck I like them” moments. Maybe ace is a little apprehensive bc cater is happy and open with anyone and feels cater isn’t sincere but he also doesn’t see the way cater is more gentle with his hugs or how he doesn’t hold anyone’s hands but aces, your honor i love them 😭

But do you have any catace headcanons to share or any headcanons really, I wish there was more basketball trio stuff bc they are my fave club they’re dynamics are so funny and I think they’d all be really cute together

Basketball club is also great bc they are so different like completely different backgrounds to play with and see how interaction turns out

Treyridoace I think is also an interesting interaction, I love your treyace and riddance interactions and I think the three together would be interesting too, I imagine there’s some good room for lots of angst lol, maybe ace feels a little left behind bc of Trey and riddles history? Or like he’s gonna be the last one left at nrc so I imagine he’d be real sad about that

Anyway I totally relate to the lack of good ace content 😭 I don’t mind reader inserts, I think a lot of them are really sweet but I also really want ace and canon character interactions that don’t completely butcher his character 😭 I really dislike when him and deuce get reduced to troublemaking idiots bc that’s so that they’re character, or when ace is a complete ass bc yes he can be a jerk but he’s also so friendly in his vignettes and the ones he appears in others and he like totally adores his upperclassmen like?? Anyway I had a lot I need to dump out lol

Sorry for the longish ask!!

Babes I was honestly so stuck on how to answer this because it was like IDEAS but it was also like ideas.

Anyways first things first! Catace! I was procrastinating doing my assigments and I stumbled back into it and I was like oh yeah! Chap 3! But yeah! The both of them only showing their real sides to each other is my favourite thing ever and it's just so soft? Like idk i just love the both of them

Catace headcanons:

When they first went out they didn't tell anyone because they wanted to see if anyone would work it out' Turns out everyone thought they were fighting with each other because they both wouldn't publicly acknowledge the others existence because they didn't want to tip anyone off.

Due to the opposition of their taste pallets kissing is a 50/50 chance of either one of them jerking back because the other had eaten something salty or sweet.

Ace likes to sit on Cater's lap and do his makeup whilst cater likes to do Ace's nails when the younger is sat on lap watching a movie. It's therapeutic for the both of them.

When Ace gets jealous he either gets bratty or he starts crying, which either amuses Cater or makes him want to dig the other persons grave. When Cater gets jealous Ace just winces in sympathy for the poor soul flirting with him.

Basketball club! Honestly it still pisses me off that we don't get a personal story from their club cards because what I would pay to see a normal day in that club is unreal.

Floyd and Jamil enjoy teasing Ace way too much but the moment they sense someone else do it they wrap their arms real tight around Ace. Ace fears for his life eveytime Floyd's arms wrap around him.

One time Ace faked crying to see what they would do. He still cackles when he sees the fear in their eyes as they realise they made him cry (one time they did make him cry and he didn't talk to them for a week. After that they shower him in more praise and gifts)

Datenights either consist of movies, walking across the beach or cooking. It has varying results of sucess.

Treyridoace is honestly just Ace and struggling to deal with authority figures lmao. Trey has a lot of fun teasing them both because they are both so gullible it's painful. Riddle enjoys teasing Ace and pushing his buttons because it's fun to see Ace riled up and blushing, and still managing to succeed in whatever Riddle teased him about. Ace at first didn't do much in terms of teasing and the 3 had a long discussion about power dynamics and all agreed that punishment wouldn't change from when before Ace was even in the relationship.

Self-insert for me is tricky because so far all the one's I've found make Ace unbearable or the bad guy in one way or another. Few of them are in a way I like to characterise him and I've seen some of the others x reader and it's actually universal how badly Ace's character gets treated whenever it's x reader or with a character shorter than him. That's why I maily stick with x canon and stick with floyd and them lot because despite how cripilingly low there are fics of them, at the very least I can enjoy them without feeling icky inside.

#ace trappola #twisted wonderland #cater diamond #floyd leech #jamil viper #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #basketball trio #catace #jamiace #floe

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carry-on-every-neverland-magic · 1 year ago

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The Last of Us rant and MAJOR spoilers ahead

NOT part 2 positive

Its so wild to me that the creators didn't even think about taking the show in a different direction to the part 2 game, as everything I have read seems to point in the direction they're gonna make season 2 exactly as the part 2 story goes. Like fine part 2 exists (even though its the worst thing ever, butchers Joel and Ellies bond and characters and introduces a ton of other characters idgaf about and this is just scratcing the surface of why its awful)

but I wish the writers could have taken season 2 of the show somewhere else, kept the heart and soul of the story alive (Joel & Ellie) made Joel not be an ooc dumbass and stand and wait to be beaten up and worse.

The entire reason I latched onto the Last of Us was Joel and Ellie. Sure I love a post apocalyptic story, love the other characters and atmosphere but the heart of the last of us IS Joel and Ellie, two lost souls finding and healing each other. They gave hope in a hopeless world.

Why couldn't season 2 focus on them in Jackson, explain and show better why Ellie is so mad at Joel over what he did (which any father would have done tbh) and show them heal and fucking watch Jurassic Park together.

The cure was never a certain thing and Ellie has so many dreams and desires and things she loves he simply wanted her to have a life.

I'm tired of part 2 stans saying how we just want a happy ending and should go watch peppa pig or something but like hello?? all my fave media is tragic lol I love tragedy Hell I don't even care if Joel is killed its the WAY he died like an absolute ooc chump that sucks and the way his bond with Ellie was ripped apart and they were kept apart in s2 and for what? Because she's mad over some non existent non certain cure when the world is basically burned to shit and too many assholes have claimed it. What would a vaccine have even saved?

The only good and beautiful thing about part 2 were the flashbacks (most of them anyway, but particularly the museum scene and some other scenes like Ellie holding Joels jacket)

It just makes me sad man that one of my favourite stories had such a shit part 2 and one of my fave shows is looking likely to head in the exact same direction when they could have taken a shot at doing the story that so divided people differently.

It just feels weird to have no excitement for season 2 when all I know is coming is a load of characters I don't care about, Joel dying in the first 5 minutes and Ellie turning into a murderous savage and ending up alone. Like what is good or hopeful or redemptive about this? And I give two shits about Abby because you can't kill off a main character you love so quickly, stupidly and horribly then expect us to buy into her story and care. No.

The Last of Us showed many stories and people, Henry and Sam, Bill and Frank etc and you care because the world they're in, the things they have had to see and do to survive and protect those they love is fascinating to watch. But it doesn't work in part 2 because they ripped away a character in such a stupid brutal way and didn't give us nearly enough time with him and Ellie. I love Joel so much but him dying could be part of the story for sure. But not like this.

I'm rambling now but basically I've never loved characters and a story so much but only half of it. I feel robbed of a proper ending.

#the last of us #tlou hbo #joel and ellie #anti tlou 2 #anti the last of us part 2 #anti abby #the last of us spoilers

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years ago

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Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: discussion of addiction/alcoholism

Full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along

-x-

Thanks so much for the love on chapter 1, I hope you enjoy this chapter too <3

-x-

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

June 2008

“You’re an idiot.”

Aaron casts a glance over to Emily, her hands tight on the steering wheel as she focuses on the road and he sighs before looking forward again, his head aching in a way he was struggling to ignore.

“So you keep saying,” he replies, an edge of sarcasm to his voice that she picks up on, scoffing at him in return.

“You’re lucky you can hear me call you an idiot, you know that right?” She says, looking at him briefly before she carries on looking where they are going. “L'idiot têtu aurait pu perdre l'ouïe et il me donne de l'attitude.”

“I may not be able to speak French, Emily, but even I know what ‘l’idiot’ means,” he grumbles, butchering the pronunciation in a way that makes her smile despite her annoyance.“And keep in mind I am your boss.”

“No, right now you’re my friend who took a ridiculous risk with his health,” she replies, tightening her grip on the steering wheel again as she blows out a steady breath, the frustration and concern she’d felt towards him since he’d reacted to the loud sounds at the cemetery finally bubbling over now they were alone, “I asked you, Aaron. I asked if you were cleared to return to work and you said yes.”

Ever since her visit to his office after he’d been served papers in front of the team, they’d become closer. Emily had even insisted on helping him find his apartment, talking him into the 12-month lease so at least he’d have somewhere to live near Jack and Haley, a sparkle in her eyes as she joked it also wasn’t that far away from her place. They’d become each other’s cornerstone, their friendship a place of strength they could both draw from when needed.

It felt like she was walking a fine line sometimes, her feelings for him blurring almost beyond recognition. Somewhere along the way of helping him stitch his life back together she’d fallen in love with him. Everything had become clear, almost scarily so, as she watched the footage of him thrown from the exploding SUV in New York.

Sometimes she liked to think he felt the same way about her, get lost in overanalysing the way she’d catch him looking at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, but most of the time it felt like a fantasy. Any hope snuffed out, blown away like a flickering flame, when she saw the look on his face when someone mentioned Haley or Jack, the hurt still obvious.

“I’m sorry, Em,” he says, genuinely sounding remorseful, “I didn’t…” he sighs, “I needed to get back to work.”

She hums in response, knowing this wasn’t something they’d agree on, not yet anyway, so she looks at him again, sees how he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and tilts her head to indicate her purse on the backseat.

“There are painkillers in my purse,” she says, smiling when he reaches for it immediately, “We’ll stop soon, make sure you can get some rest.”

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know,” he says, smiling at the sight of the candy strewn amongst her essentials in her purse as he pulls out the painkillers, “You could have flown back with the others.”

She shakes her head at him, “Absolutely not, I think we’ve proven you can’t be left to your own devices,” she says, and it feels too real, too honest, so she chuckles, “Although, I do wish we’d brought those brownies with us.”

“At least we have your supply of peanut butter cups to keep us going,” he quips, holding up her purse, and she glares at him. He laughs, before turning serious, his hand reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. “Thanks, Em. I appreciate the company”

She has to swallow down the treacherous hope that spreads up her chest, the taste somehow bitter and sweet at the same time in the back of her throat as she shrugs, his hand slipping from her shoulder and leaving her feeling cold.

He never called her Prentiss when it was just the two of them anymore, and her full name often gave way to Em. Something no one had called her since her father had left when she was young. It sounded better when Aaron said it, something about the way the single syllable fell from his lips.

“You’d do the same for me.” She replies, flashing him a smile she hopes he can’t see through.

She knows it’s true, whether he loved her like she wanted him to or not.

___

They stop in a small town overnight due to Emily’s insistence that they do so, claiming he needs a rest.

The small lodge they find is beautiful, and it’s nice enough they decide to accept the one remaining room they have instead of risking going to the next town over in the hopes of finding a place with two rooms.

The room is basic, with two double beds and a vanity with an adjoining bathroom, but it was good enough for one night. They decide to go to a bar just up the street, not quite ready for bed yet.

Aaron watches as she waits for their drinks, a smile on his face as he sees the bartender clearly attempting to flirt with her as Emily turns him down at every chance. He feels jealousy lick at his insides at the mere sight of another man talking to her like that, and he shakes his head at himself.

Emily walks over, a glass in each hand, and joins him at their table. “That guy was… persistent,” she comments as she sits down, a joking tone to her voice.

“He’ll have a restraining order if he isn’t careful,” Aaron quips, looking at the man over Emily’s shoulder and glaring at him, getting some satisfaction in the speed that he pretends to look busy.

She laughs, drawing his attention back towards her, and she’s looking him up and down, “It’s not too loud in here for you, is it?” He shakes his head, grateful that she’d asked. It was mostly quiet, just a few locals and a jukebox in the corner. She smiles at him, her eyes sparkling with something close to mischief, “You not going to drink that? It’s the finest scotch you’ll find in the middle of nowhere Virginia.”

He chuckles half-heartedly, staring at the drink she’d handed him. Whilst he’d never had a problem with it himself, he had a complicated relationship with alcohol and didn’t want to fall into the same traps that had ruined his childhood. Scars, both physical and mental, that had never truly faded. Left behind by a man who had never truly cared about anyone other than himself.

“Aaron?”

He looks up at her and sees the concern in her eyes, and realises he must have drifted off, his thoughts blocking out anything except his past. He sighs, his jaw tight.

“My dad was an alcoholic,” Aaron admits, the words escaping from nowhere, unaware he was going to say them until he sees her reaction. It’s tiny, a slight raise of her eyebrows as her eyes stay fixed on his, but it’s enough to encourage him to keep on going, wanting nothing more than to bask in her comfort. He looks at his untouched scotch, and a bitter laugh leaves his lips, “I keep waiting for the day when I can have a drink without thinking of him,” he looks up at her, “I always ask myself if this is the one that will turn me into him, if in 40 years Jack will be sat in a bar somewhere wondering the same thing.”

“That won’t happen,” Emily says, sounding so confident even though she’d never met the man that he wants to believe her. She reaches over and puts her hand over his, their long-standing embargo on touching each other clearly broken. He finds that he doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to forget how it feels to have her skin over his, “You’re an amazing father. Jack loves you and worships the ground you walk on.”

“I don’t know,” Aaron sighs, finally taking a sip of his scotch, and placing the glass back down, “Don’t we all turn into our parents eventually?” He sees her flinch, a momentary thing that flashes across her face and she withdraws her hand from him, offering him a tight smile before she has a sip of her wine. He winces, realising what he’s said, the pain in his head making him slower than usual, less cautious. “Emily, I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head at him, lets him know he has nothing to be sorry for and she looks down at her hands.

“If I have a really bad day,” she starts, licking at the corner of her lip as she sighs, a humourless laugh escaping her, “And I mean a terrible, it feels like the world is ending kind of day, I won’t have a drink. I’ll order in some take out, smoke a cigarette from my secret stash,” she says, and he smiles at her, something endearing about the admittance that warms his chest, “And maybe make a hot chocolate. But I’ll leave the scotch, or the wine, to a different day.”

He looks at her curiously, taking another sip of his drink as he waits her out. He knew she was like him, that she needed time to process things, to say what she wanted to say. Everything she said was measured, and she rarely spoke with an emotional reaction. A side effect of the training she’d had as a child, taught from an early age that everything she said, and felt, would be the target of scrutiny.

“My mother started to drink after my dad left,” she says, looking down at her hands, shaking her head at the memory, “It was always a part of her life, part of her work. But it got worse. And by the time she stopped a decade later there was enough damage to her liver that she needed surgery,” she looks up at him, her lips in a tight line, “Did you know if you have had a drinking problem you won’t always qualify for a transplant?” She asks, and he nods, “Well, I didn’t before then. I was a match so…I gave up one hell of a job opportunity with Interpol to donate her some of my liver.” He stares at her, unsure what to say, unsure if there was anything he could say, and she carries on, the words seemingly spilling out of her now she had started, “We both recovered and have barely spoken about it since. She never drank again though, which is the closest she’s ever come to saying thank you,”

She’d never said it out loud, never spoken about this with anyone who wasn’t her mother, the surgeon who did the procedure or her doctor, and she knows it's because she trusts him. That this conversation will go no further, that he’ll never talk about it again unless she wants to. He was a fortress of his own secrets, and now he was starting to keep hers safe too. Locked up and tucked in next to his.

“I had no idea,” he says and she smiles sadly at him, watches as he clearly goes over the interactions he’d had with her mother in the few times he’d met her.

“You wouldn’t,” she replies, “She was very high functioning, and now she acts like it never happened,” she blows out a steady breath, shaking her head at herself, “It’s probably for the best, we’ve never had the kind of relationship where we could just talk.”

Emily remembers how she had, naively, hoped the surgery would change that. That by literally giving a part of herself to her mother, things would improve between them. She still had stitches in her abdomen when it became clear that wasn’t true, her mother’s damning comments about how awful she looked one of the very few times she could class Elizabeth as cruel. After that she’d shut herself off, got a job at the FBI that she knew would piss off her mother and moved to the mid-west, making her life smaller until she was ready for it to be big again.

“You’re an amazing person, Em,” he says, and her head snaps up to look at him, her neck twinging with the movement. Her eyes meet his and there is nothing but naked honesty and admiration in his eyes, and he smiles at her, “It’s true.”

She blushes, unable to control it as she lets the compliment, something he rarely gave out to anyone, wash over her. It was warm, comforting.

Something she wanted more of.

“Well, thank you. Maybe you could tell my mother that one day,” she replies, clearing her throat, before looking around the now mostly abandoned bar, “We should get head back to our room,” she says, standing up, “And try and get some sleep, we’ve got to get up early to finish our drive.”

___

The ringing in his ears keeps him awake, a near-constant sound that was slowly driving him insane.

He knew part of it was his fault. His stupidity in forcing himself back to work, back to something close to normal, partially fueled by his desire to get out of his empty apartment. The last time he’d been sick or hurt enough to stay off work was years ago, his marriage still working, his wife on hand to look after him.

The quiet in his apartment had almost been as loud as the explosion that could have killed him, his only reprieve was when he had visits from Jack or Emily, who came over whenever she could to keep him company. He turns his head to look at her, smiling at the sight of her fast asleep in the other bed. She’d made him take the bed closest to the door, insisting he could be the first line of defence if someone broke in in the night to kill them both, damaged ear or not.

He watches her in the low light of the room, allowing himself to be captivated by her in a way he never would when she was awake. On a basic level, he had always known she was beautiful, even when he was still trying to save his marriage as it crumbled around him, but as he got to know her beauty only deepened for him. She was smart, thoughtful, and empathetic in a way he could only dream of being. He valued her opinion more than almost anyone else at this point, and he would do anything to make her laugh, to see the smile he was sure would convince him to move mountains if she asked.

He knew what he felt for her was more than friendship, the emotions deeper in a way than they were for anyone else on the team, or in his life. Somehow, apart from Jack, Emily had become the most important person in his life.

He sighs as he sits up in bed, making his way to the bathroom in the hopes that when he climbs back into bed it will reset his brain. The flush of the toilet makes him wince, the sound loud enough to make the ringing briefly worse.

When he walks back out of the bathroom he has to walk past her bed, and he almost misses it, doesn’t hear anything because his bad ear is facing her, the ringing blocking everything else out. He only catches the movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turns to look at her fully. She’s shifting in the bed, the peaceful sleep she had been experiencing just minutes ago gone as her hands grasp at the sheets. He walks over, sitting on the edge of her bed, and it’s only when he’s closer that he hears her muttering, and he’s sure he would have missed it entirely if he’d stayed in bed.

“Em,” he says gently, his hand on her shoulder as he shakes her, “Em, wake up.”

She jolts awake, sitting up so quickly he has to move back to stop their heads from colliding, and he holds her shoulders, one of his hands briefly drifting to her cheek to make her look at him, her eyes wild.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he assures her, “It’s me,” he smiles at her, “Nightmare?”

She nods in response, taking another deep breath as she holds the sheet over her in her hands, her fists tight. “Yeah…nightmare.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, and he’s unsure what to do, only used to comforting his toddler in these moments and he flashes a wry smile at her.

“I would have woken you up sooner, but I didn’t hear you.” She nods a tight movement that makes him wonder if he’s said the wrong thing, again. “Want to talk about it?”

She swallows thickly, looking up at him from the bedding over her lap, “It was New York,” she replies, clearing her throat, “The bombing.”

“Oh sweet-, Em,” he corrects himself, tripping over his words in an attempt to stop her from catching the term of endearment that had almost slipped free, “I’m ok.”

He pulls her into a hug that she gratefully returns, her arms wrapped tightly around him as she reminds herself that he was really here. That the twisted vision of her nightmare was simply that, something her brain had conjured up to torture her.

“You almost weren’t though,” she says, her forehead against his shoulder, “A few paces closer to the car and…” she drifts off, pulling her head back to look at him, “You could have died.”

“I’m right here,” he says, reaching for her hair and straightening out her bangs, his fingers trailing down her cheek until he’s cupping her jaw, “I’m here.”

Later, when she’d ask him why he kissed her then, he wouldn’t able to answer, to say anything other than it just felt right. He leans forward and presses his lips to hers, something he was sure he should have done long ago.

For a moment, she lets herself get lost in it, the feel of his lips against hers. The taste of his toothpaste on his tongue, but then she pulls back, her hand on his chest, fingers curling slightly into his shirt, as she heaves in a breath.

“We can’t.”

“Em-”

“I won’t be your rebound, Aaron,” she says, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. He frowns as if her comment was ridiculous, and she feels his hand on her lower back, his skin warm through her shirt, “You got divorced 6 months ago, and you’re still…recovering from that.”

He rests his forehead against hers, cursing himself for not making himself clearer, for letting her think, even for a moment, that he’d use her in that way.

“Emily, you could never be a rebound,” he says, pulling back to look at her, his hand more insistent at her lower back as he sees the look in her eyes, the uncertainty he had put there, “My marriage to Haley was over long before we got divorced.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts,” he says, cutting over her, his free hand cupping her face, his thumb pressing into her lower lip, testing the fullness of it, wanting nothing more than to surge forward and kiss her again. He sighs as his hand drifts from her face to push hair behind her ear, “I don’t know how to prove that to you, but would you let me try? If you trust me.”

She stares at him for what feels like an age, emotions tumbling through her chest, tangling together in a way she was sure she’d never be able to fully unpick. This wouldn’t be simple, she knew that it would never just be the two of them. He had an ex-wife and a son, and the team would no doubt also have opinions, but she wanted this. Him. And apparently, he wanted her too.

“Ok,” she replies, the tightness in her chest easing at the relief on his face, the way he holds her a little tighter, “I trust you.”

He smiles, nodding at her as he frames her face in his hands, pulling her into another kiss. She lets herself enjoy this one, her hands slipping from his chest to up around his neck, holding him in place. They only break apart when they have to, foreheads pressed against each other as they both heave in oxygen, their lungs burning in the most delicious of ways.

“I trust you too,” he says, the words whispered against her lips, his breath skipping across her face, and she smiles.

They weren’t the three words either of them wanted to say, both aware it was far too soon for that, but they would do for now.

___

May 2009

She counts the pairs of shoes twice.

It’s what she has to do in order to believe what she’s seeing. To be sure that it isn’t some cruel trick her mind is playing on her, or that she was exaggerating it somehow.

Her mother had always said she was prone to that.

Eighty-nine pairs. Eighty-nine people.

People who had just disappeared, missed by no one or missed by people who weren’t taken seriously. It had, after all, taken a man driving through a cross-border checkpoint to get listened to about his missing sister.

It makes her think of Jack like most cases did these days. The little boy, that she knows she couldn’t love more if she’d given birth to him herself, sleeping safely in his bed at Haley’s house. She knows she’d tear the world apart to find him, as would Haley and Aaron, never stopping until they an answer.

Part of her wishes they’d never gotten this call. That they were with Jack as they’d planned, helping him settle into the place he’d now call home when he was with them. But she knows this is where they need to be, that despite the horrors, the things she knows she will never unsee, they will get closure for the people who had died here.

It was the last thing anyone would do for them.

Emily sighs, shaking her head as she watches the crime scene techs line up the shoes. A hand lands on her shoulder and she jumps, turning to see Aaron standing behind her, an apologetic look already written on his face.

“Fuck, Aaron,” She exclaims, her shot nerves evident by her reaction, she wasn’t usually as easily spooked, “I need to get you a bell or something.”

He smiles tightly at her, appreciating her attempt at humour, no matter how much it falls flat. The rancid evil in the air, that he’s sure will cling to them like a bad smell long after they return home, destroying even her ability to cheer him up.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, squeezing her shoulder as he leads her away just enough that they can talk without being overheard, a few moments of privacy they both desperately needed, “Are you ok?”

“No,” she answers honestly, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers, their position enough to hide it from those around them, not that anyone would judge them for it here, “Are you?”

“No,” he replies, squeezing her hand before dropping it, taking comfort in her proximity instead, “I don’t think anyone is.”

He looks around, sees his team scattered around the farm, spots Dave still sitting inside with Mason, and he wonders how much longer they can all do this. There was always another case, another person hellbent on destroying the lives of others with a justification only they could understand.

“This place is just…” she blows out a breath, a humourless chuckle escaping her as she shakes her head, “They must have all been so scared,” she turns and looks at the shoes again, rows and rows of them, before she looks back at her boyfriend, “We’ve got to find Kelly,” she says, an edge of desperation to her voice she’d never let the others hear, “She can’t…we’ve got to find her.”

“We will,” he assures her, even though he knows it’s a promise he can’t keep. They all need this, to rescue someone from this hell on earth. They needed something to make all of this, and the burdens they’d all carry afterwards, worth it.

“Alive?” She asks, biting the inside of her cheek as her eyes stare into his. It isn’t fair, that he can’t promise her that, but she needs something, anything, to make this feel better, even if just for a moment. She knows she’s been harsher than she meant to be when she sees the hurt briefly flash across his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Don’t be, I get it.”

It was something that made his relationship with Emily different to the one he’d had with Haley. They both saw the same things, experienced the horrors that came hand in hand with their work. He didn’t have to hide this bit of himself from her, worried that he’d say too much.

Emily smiles at him, a silent promise they’d talk about it all when they got home. Safe in the apartment they’d soon be sharing, away from anything that could possibly hurt them. She gathers herself and lets the Prentiss mask fall back into place.

“Did you need me for something?” She asks, and he flashes a smile at her, her ever-practical nature something he loved and admired in equal measure. “Derek and I were about to walk the perimeter again.”

“I actually wanted to show you something,” he replies, digging his phone out of his pocket before he unlocks it and hands it over, “I thought you could do with it as much as I did.”

She takes his phone and smiles when she sees it’s his message history with Haley, the most recent only a couple of hours old. The latest message from her is a photo of Jack, playing with the train set Emily had bought for him a couple of months ago. It makes warmth briefly spread through Emily’s chest, something she hadn’t thought she could feel, and she’s once again reminded of just how much she loves the little boy. The photo is accompanied by a message from Haley that makes her smile too.

‘Saw the farm on the news, and thought you could do with this. Make sure Emily sees it too. As soon as you get back I’ll bring him over.’

“That’s nice of her,” Emily says, passing the phone back to Aaron, exchanging a small smile with him, “Thank you for showing it to me.”

He shrugs, like it wasn’t everything, like this small reminder of the life that existed beyond this awful place wasn’t enough to get her through the rest of their time there.

“If I didn’t show you, she’d only ask about it and then I’d be in trouble with both of you.”

She rolls her eyes at him, “That was one time. And you forgot to tell her I’d scheduled his haircut, and he ended up with two appointments.”

He shakes his head at her, his smile fading as he looks around them, his attention needed elsewhere “You’ll be ok?”

She nods, “Yeah, I will be.”

“When we get home,” he says, taking a step closer, “I’ll make us hot chocolate whilst I ignore you having a cigarette.”

It’s a promise she knows he’ll keep and she nods at him, swallowing back her first genuine smile in what felt like days, knowing it wouldn’t be appropriate where they were.

“I’d like that.”

He smiles at her once more before heading off in the direction he’s being called to. Emily sighs and grabs her phone from her pocket. She sends a quick text to Haley to thank her for the message, and to ask her to give Jack a hug for her before she puts it away again.

“Prentiss,” Derek says, and she turns to look at him and he tilts his head towards where he’s standing, “You coming?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” she replies, already walking over, ready to get the job done. To hopefully save a young girl from the fate that so many people had fallen victim to.

They’d be home soon, and then they could put this behind them.

-x-

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kissorkill16 · 8 months ago

Text

You'll Get Through This: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: 16 year old Nicky Roth and a suicide attempt.

Nicky jolted upwards out of his slumber, breathing heavily and sweating uncontrollably. He had another nightmare, and it was one of the worst nightmares ever since the grocery store.

He was in Mr. Peterson's basement. The large man towered over him, holding a butcher knife. He couldn't move, he couldn't scream, he couldn't do anything. All he could do was lie there, petrified, and wishing this man would just get it over with already.

Nicky immediately ran to the bathroom, and he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like a hot mess. Messy hair, sweaty face, he looked like he just ran a whole 78 miles.

He couldn't take it anymore. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the pain, the bullying, the near death experiences. He hated his life. He just wanted it all to stop.

He turned on the sink, and splashed some water in his face, when he looked at himself in the mirror once again, he saw the scared little boy he once was. 13 year old Nicky Roth, a stupid little boy who ruined his entire life to find his only friend who he had something in common with.

The same stupid little boy who ruined his friendship with so many other people, the same stupid little boy who damaged his reputation, the same stupid little boy who made him and his parents look bad in front of the entire city of Raven Brooks.

The next thing he saw was a black figure. The figure took the shape of Aaron, Mr. Peterson's last living child. The last thing he heard before he jolted backwards and fell in the bathtub was...

"I warned you, Nicky. I told you to never come back."

Nicky grasped the sides of his head, and let out a blood curdling scream. He ran back to the mirror, angry and lost in his head, and he started punching the glass until his knuckles started to bleed. When he was done, there was nothing left of the mirror, and his knuckles looked like they've had better days.

Nicky opened the bathroom cupboard under the sink, and grabbed his mother's sleeping pills. Then he ran to his room, took out a piece of paper and pencil. He began writing...

Dear World,

I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore. I can't take anymore nightmares, pain, regret, hallucinations, nothing. I've lost all of my friends, all of my sanity, all of the trust anyone has ever had in me, I've lost everything. I'm finally going to be with my bubba (grandmother), and I'll finally be free from this hell I call my life. I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I'll miss you.

Sincerely,

Nicholas Michael Roth

He emptied the container of pills into his hands, and stuffed them all into his mouth. But before he could swallow a single pill, his door swung open.

"NICKY!"

It was his mother. She frantically ran to Nicky, slapping the container out of his hands, and gripping his cheeks.

"Spit them out!"

Nicky shook his head.

"Nicholas Michael Roth, spit out all of those pills right fucking now!"

Nicky didn't want to, but he did anyway. As he spat them out, he started crying uncontrollably.

Just then, his father walked in. Immediately growing concerned when he saw his son crying. "Oh, holy shit! Nicky, what happened?!", he asked.

"I just caught our son trying to kill himself."

Jay's eyes widened in shock. He sat down on the bed, next to Nicky. He was scared to touch him since he was currently having a breakdown.

"Nicky, it's okay, honey."

"No, stop that. No it's not!"

"Nicky-"

Nicky unleashed another scream. "STOP IT! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, MOM! I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE NIGHTMARES, PAIN, PTSD HEART ATTACKS AND FLASHBACKS, NO MORE!"

Nicky continued crying. "Just please let me end it. I hate myself so fucking much right now. I want to die! Everything hurts so bad."

Jay and Luanne hated seeing their baby like this. They wrapped their arms around Nicky, a warm and comforting embrace.

"Let me end it. Let me end it. Let me end it.", the scared boy kept saying.

"Narf. Look at me.", said his father.

Nicky turned his head to look at him.

"We're not going to keep telling you it's okay, because we know you know it's not. But we just want to let you know that we're here for you. We're here to listen this time."

"Your father's right, Nicky. I know we weren't there for you when you needed us before, and we regret it, knowing it's the reason you went missing. But just know, we're ready to listen now. We're ready to be better parents.

Nicky pondered for a moment, but he finally opened up his mouth to speak.

"I guess I've been feeling pretty angry and sad."

He stopped for a moment, checking to see if they were really listening. When he saw they were, he continued talking.

"Angry because no one would believe me when I said Mr. Peterson was the reason Aaron and Mya were missing. And sad because I lost all of my friends, and I felt like I've been abandoned."

Nicky felt like crying again.

"Everyone was against me in Raven Brooks, everyone thought I was crazy. No one believed me, they said I didn't have enough proof, but there was a truckload of proof right under their noses. They just refused to look at it! No one cares about missing children. No one cares about bullying. No one cares about the death of a child-"

As Nicky said all of this, he felt his throat start to close up, and his eyes began flooding up with tears. Before he knew it, he was crying again. His father's arms wrapped tighter around him.

"Narf, that was Raven Brooks. We're not in Raven Brooks anymore."

"Exactly. We're in Shelbyville. It's better than Raven Brooks. There are really great schools, and interesting after school programs, there's even a neighborhood watch."

Joking seemed to be helping a little bit, because Nicky started to smile.

"Yeah.", he said. "There are a few good restaurants nearby, and a decent police station. And it normally takes a week to find missing people."

They all laughed.

"But seriously, Narf.", his dad said, "You're not alone anymore. You're going to get through this. You might not get through it immediately, but I swear, you'll get through it. You'll feel better, and boom! No more nightmares or flashbacks, and no more suicidal thoughts."

Nicky smiled and snuggled into his father's chest.

"And I'm sorry we doubted you, Nicky. We love you so much.", said his mother.

"I love you guys too, so very much.", replied Nicky.

They all engulfed themselves in a big group hug. Nicky knew now that he wasn't alone anymore, and he was going to get through this, no matter what or how long it took.

#hello neighbor #nicky roth #jay roth #luanne roth #tw suicide attempt #tw pills #hurt/comfort #hello neighbor fanfic #my fics

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