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sommerbueckers · 7 months ago

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HI BABY OKAY SO I HAVE A LITTLE ONE SHOT IDEA⁉️⁉️

so basically reader and paige know each other but aren’t exactly close just flirted a few times wtv wtv. so reader goes to a game and she’s wearing the other teams jersey😋😋 after the game paige sees her, they hang out have a few drinks and hookup.. and paige is like “take this shit off” then pulls the other teams jersey off reader

ALSO CAN I BE 🤍 ANON??

yes ofc you can !!

𝐚/𝐧: okay i literally love this idea , and congrats on being my first anon love !

𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

➪ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

THREE DAYS AGO you had been sitting quietly in your apartment, the tv displaying an episode of Gilmore Girls that you, if prompted, could recite word for word. Leftover Chinese food sat cold upon the coffee table, your roommate occasionally returning to her forgotten bowl of beef broccoli.

“What’re you doing this weekend?” her voice abruptly cut through the silence, drowning out the show which could hardly be heard to begin with.

You leaned your elbow against the arm of the couch, shrugging your shoulders. “Probably nothing.”

“Per usual,” she snorted, amused. After reaching to pause the tv, she pulled her legs up under her and twisted around to face you. Her face held a look of mischief and you typically tried to steer away from any kind of conversation with her at this point, but there was nowhere for you to go. “Do you wanna take a little road trip?” she raised her eyebrows, hopefully.

“A road trip?” you repeated, your tone laced with confusion. “It’s the middle of February and you wanna take a road trip?”

Excitedly nodding her head, she scooted closer to you. “You know how i’ve been talking to Noa a lot lately?” She hadn’t even given you a chance to respond before she continued on. “Well her school plays UConn on Friday night and she said she could get me courtside tickets! How sick is that?!”

Courtside tickets to any game would be exciting, but courtside tickets to see UConn Paige play was an entirely different level of excitement.

You had met the basketball star at a penthouse party last summer. It was being hosted by some trust fund NYU student whose parents were out of town. It was said to be ‘select invite only,’ the hierarchy groups of the social food chain would be there along with whoever else they wanted to bring. You originally weren’t supposed to go, but after finding out your name was on the invite list, you and a few friends couldn’t think of any better way to spend the night.

Paige had been wearing a white crop top and a pair of jorts, and she looked far too good not to entertain for the night. All night you two had mingled and flirted, dancing together and taking shot after shot. Nothing came out of it other than another follower on Instagram, but you were just happy to have made the night a good one.

“Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” you admitted quietly. You leaned forward to grab the box of shrimp fried rice, aimlessly picking at it with your fork in an attempt to hide your clear interest in the conversation.

“Pretty cool?” your roommate gaped, “it’s fucking awesome! I finally get to meet her and you get to see Paige play in person.” She was practically bouncing off the walls at this point, her cheeks red from how hard she was smiling. She was biting her lip, no doubt to keep from squealing.

You sucked your teeth unconvincingly, your mind scattered as it tried to provide you with a quick response. “Why would I wanna see Paige?” you frowned, avoiding her eyes.

“Aren’t you guys friends?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well you follow each other on Insta, and you’re always watching her games,” she shrugged innocently, thankfully not picking up on the way your eyes refused to meet hers or the blush that had unknowingly crept onto your face.

“Oh,” you mumbled, “well we aren’t.”

Unfortunately, it was the truth. You and Paige hadn't interacted with each other since the party and you chalked the night up to the two of you just having some drunken fun.

"Oh, so, do you wanna come down or no?"

You weighed your options, though the answer was clear. Stay in your apartment with nothing to do other than binge watch shows by yourself or join your roommate on a trip down to good ol' Storrs, Connecticut. You sighed and leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms.

"When do we leave?"

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

That was how you ended up sitting courtside at a UConn versus Creighton game, a white and blue jersey over your sweatshirt, the number seven displayed on the front. Your roommate had insisted that you both wear Noa’s jersey, that way she felt ‘double the support.’ You didn’t mind despite the fact that you couldn’t name a single player on the team.

The game ended with UConn sweeping Creighton, you had tuned out sometime during the third quarter after accepting the fact that the blue jays wouldn’t be able to come back. You hadn’t even noticed the game was over until the blonde beside you stood up with a groan, throwing her hands in the air.

“That’s it? It’s over just like that?” she turned to you with wide eyes.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Guess so.”

She was beyond upset, you would’ve thought she had been the one on the court. She went on a tangent after the teams disappeared into the locker room, expressing her opinion on why the game should be longer and what Creighton should’ve done. She had no idea what she was talking about, and you knew that, but still listened nonetheless.

“Are we getting something to eat?” you asked when you were sure she was done talking.

“Yeah,” she sighed out, “not sure what Noa wants to do but we can figure it out when she gets out here.”

“Okay, ‘m gonna use the bathroom real quick.” You stood from your seat, brushing off your jersey and heading toward the bathrooms.

Never before had you been to Gampel Pavilion, and curiosity got the best of you as you disregarded the large ‘Restrooms’ sign for a more enticing place. You ambled down one of the corridors, looking at all the pictures and awards that were up on the walls. Pictures of alumni in all the different uniforms through the decades, different championship trophies and plaques.

Your eyes stopped on one picture in particular; it was from the 80s and the men had bright smiles on their faces as they held up a large trophy. Their shorts were incredibly short, and you laughed to yourself as you wondered how they’d ever played in them. Before you could bring your attention away on your own accord, a familiar voice did it for you.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

There stood Paige Bueckers in all her six foot glory, her eyebrows knitted together as she stared at you. For having just played a game, she looked amazing. Her hair was still pulled up in its usual braid and ponytail but it was now partially covered with a gray beanie, she had put on a jacket and sweats over her uniform and looked about ready to slip out without being seen. That’s probably what she was doing.

“Oh sorry, I—I didn’t know,” you shook your head, embarrassed.

“Nah it’s cool, usually it doesn’t matter but they’re tryna clear the place out now,” she explained with a shrug, a keychain jingling from the movement of her bag on her back.

You nodded your head, silently walking past her to make your way back to the gym.

“Wait,” she called out.

You whipped your head around quicker than you should’ve, your face holding a look of innocence as you waited, no, hoped for her to say what you thought she was going to say.

“Don’t I know you?”

‘Yeah, we met last summer,’ was what you would’ve said had you been able to think straight. Instead, you stared at her dumbly until she finally spoke again.

“I think I do, we met at that one kid’s party last year,” she said. Was she trying to remind you? Like anyone would forget meeting Paige Bueckers at a party.

“Yeah, yeah I remember,” you nodded. You rubbed your forehead with a breathless laugh, thinking of what to say next. “That night was pretty blurry to be honest…”

That’s all you could come up with?

It wasn't even the truth either. You remembered everything from that night; every look, every touch.

“No yeah I get what you mean,” she laughed, “don’t even remember how I got home.”

You nodded your head to feign agreement because you knew exactly how you had gotten home.

“Creighton fan, huh?” Paige asked, gesturing to your jersey.

You glanced down, pulling the material away so you could examine it yourself. “No uh, my friend’s girlfriend or — whatever is on the team and we just came down to support her.”

“Ah, so I take it you’re not a UConn fan either?”

You laughed, “I’ve watched a couple games.”

Another lie -- you've watched every game.

“I’ll take it,” Paige smiled. “It was good seeing you again,” she said, beginning to back up. Had you not been so captured by the shade of blue that her eyes held, you would’ve missed the way they'd scanned your body. Running up and down your legs, gently biting her lip. Her eyes once again met yours and she flashed you that signature smirk before she turned around and headed out.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

"This place is fucking packed," Noa commented, surveying the bar with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, i'm gonna go see if I can get us a table."

Your roommate left your side and approached the hostess podium, you and Noa now being alone near the door. She awkwardly rocked back and forth on her feet, hands resting comfortably in her pockets. "Y'all came down here together?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah, got here a little bit before the game actually," you smiled.

Noa hummed, "Hope you aren't driving back tomorrow," she said with a small laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"The couch at the apartment isn't the most comfortable," she sighed, scratching the back of her neck, "so I was just saying you'd probably be better off making blondie drive."

As if on cue, said blondie motioned for the two of you to follow her. "The wait was like forty-five minutes but the bar has the full menu," she said and gestured to three open seats right beside each other. You all gladly took them, sighing as you finally put your feet to rest.

The bartender came around and took your orders and the three of you finally settled in. Conversation came easy, you and Noa bonded over all things basketball. You discussed the calls that were made during the game, how a lot of them were made in favor of UConn because it was their home gym and all. While it hadn't been a complete lie, UConn would've won even without those calls.

You sipped casually on your martini, letting your two friends fall into their own conversation while you busied yourself elsewhere. Your gaze moved from table to table, scouting out someone who could turn your night around from the eventful one it had been. Once again, as though the man above had been listening solely to you, Paige and her teammates waltzed right in.

She had changed out of her basketball uniform, now dressed in a pair of cargos with a long sleeve and a vest.

Instinctively, you straightened up in your chair. They'd seated themselves on the other end of the bar, Paige sitting perfectly in your line of view. You felt like a creep the way you were watching her, but you couldn't help it. There had been a point in time where Paige had been focused on you. Her hands roaming your body as you danced together, her eyes locked on yours only, determined to make you laugh. You smiled unconsciously at the memory of that night, wishing over and over that you could relive it.

When you looked up again Paige was gone, missing from the rest of her group.

"If I didn't know any better, i'd think you were following me," her voice came from close behind you, and you found her standing there with an untouched drink in her hand.

"Well if I remember correctly, I was here first," you smiled, tilting your head. You were hoping you looked cute doing it and not dopey like you had pictured yourself. "So who's really doing the following?"

Paige chuckled, "You got me there." She moved to take the seat beside you, glancing around for a sign that someone was already sitting there. When she didn't find one, she proceeded to get comfortable. You watched contently, sipping your drink with crossed legs and waiting for her to settle. "That's the girlfriend?"

You nodded your head without looking behind you.

"Whatchu got?" you pointed at her glass.

"Dirty Shirley."

"Ah, your favorite."

Paige pursed her lips, a smile threatening to break through. "How'd you know that?" she asked.

"It was all you drank that night," you reminded her.

"Hm," she smirked, "thought you said you didn't remember much."

'Fuck,' you thought to yourself.

"I remember bits and pieces," you shrugged, distracting yourself with your drink.

The blonde playfully narrowed her eyes. She remembered everything from that night, she had only pretended not to because she felt embarrassed that she remembered everything and you didn't. She had visited your Instagram multiple times in the weeks following that, cursing herself for not having the courage to ask you out or do anything other than pointlessly flirt with you.

But here she was, being presented with the opportunity to turn things around, and she planned to take advantage of it.

"So tell me, what else do you remember?"

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

Two martinis and four rounds of shots later, you and Paige found yourselves in an intense game of pool. She was currently beating you, her only objection to sink the eight ball in while you still had a few balls left to knock in.

You leaned over with focused eyes, carefully lining up the stick with the ball. You could feel Paige's presence beside you, her breath hot on your ear as she spoke. "She's crumbling," the blonde teased. She sensed your stress and she was feeding off it, a thrilled expression upon her face. "Will she sink it? Or will she fumble?"

You pulled the stick back, and with a swift movement, jolted it forward. The ball flew quickly across the table, ricocheting off the side and rolling back toward the middle.

"Oh! She shoots, she misses!" Paige commentated enthusiastically, the alcohol running through her system and giving her a buzz. She pointed her finger annoyingly in your face as she backed away, getting closer and closer to her position behind the eight ball. She mimicked the stance you had done; leaning over the table and zeroing in on the ball.

A beat of silence passed and Paige still hadn't moved, her eyes slowly moved upwards to meet yours. A smile broke out onto her lips, she stood up and twirled the stick around in her hands. "How about we make this a little more interesting," she suggested lowly.

"Interesting how?" you snorted, leaning against the table.

She stepped closer to you, towering over you with a gaze that had you practically foaming at the mouth. If Paige wanted to take you on the pool table right at that moment, you would've let her. Of course, that was just the alcohol talking, and there was quite a lot of it.

"I need one shot to win, and I want a reward when I do."

"A reward, huh?" I raised my eyebrows, noticing her step closer, "What kind of reward do you want?"

"I can think of a few things..." she murmured. Paige was trying hard to be seductive right now, and she couldn't tell if it was working or not. She had already failed to hookup with you once last year at the party, and she'd be damned if she failed again.

"Like what?" you took a step closer, batting your eyelashes at her. You were teasing her and she knew it. The alcohol coursing through your system was giving you a confidence boost like no other, and you couldn't think of a better way to make use of it other than flirting with Paige.

"Well for starters," she sighed, pulling gently on the Creighton jersey that you had yet to change out of, "I don't wanna see this anymore tonight."

"Oh yeah?" you quirked a brow at her.

"Yeah, and when I win, i'm gonna take it off you," she said confidently.

You could feel yourself sweating beneath your clothes, the pool stick in your hand suddenly becoming difficult to grip. You cleared your throat when she finally stepped back, a knowing smile tugging at her lips as she repositioned herself on the other side of the table and focused on the ball. With a quick and calculated shot, the ball swiped cleanly across the table before falling into the desired slot.

The noise from the bar seemed to fade away as the realization of Paige's victory sunk in. People drunkenly moved around; dancing, singing, cheering at whatever was playing on tv, but none of that mattered to you anymore. You were unable to focus on anything other than Paige's blue eyes staring into yours, the color seemingly darker than it was just moments ago.

You rolled your eyes and set the stick down on the table, reaching for the hem of the jersey to take it off. Paige's hands quickly found your wrists, her face contorted in utter confusion. "What're you doing?" she asked.

You were playing with her.

"Taking the jersey off, isn't that what you wanted?" you frowned innocently.

Paige scoffed, "Don't test me. Let's go back to mine, you can take it off there."

You both bid your goodbyes to your friends, your roommate tossed you a questioning look that you dismissed with the wave of your hand. You waited impatiently outside for an Uber, Paige holding you close in attempt to shield you from the cold. Her eyes were fixed on your lips, the very ones that were trembling, begging to be warmed up by hers. From the moment she had seen you in the hallway she immediately recognized you, she'd recognize that ass anywhere. She had planned to send you a message tomorrow, running into you tonight had been unexpected but not unwelcome. It just gave her less time to think of what to say.

The car ride back to Paige's house left the two of you bright eyed and rosy cheeked; the radio was switched off and the driver spelled like he had just played in a basketball game and didn't bother to shower afterward. The backseat windows appeared to have a child lock on them, preventing either of you from breathing in fresh air. Between the buzz from all the drinking and toxicity of the car's air, you and Paige couldn't stop yourselves from laughing the whole way there. Her hands didn't leave your legs, but in the midst of all the welcomed chaos you hadn't even noticed.

You rolled out of the car, basking in the cold air with open arms. Paige trailed closely behind you, her hand on the small of your back as the two of you made your way up to her apartment. The second the elevators doors shut and you two were alone, your lips met hers in a searing kiss. She tasted sweet, like Dirty Shirleys and peach CÎROC shots. With your hands tangled in her hair, you pulled her closer, wanting needing to taste more of her.

Her tight grip on your hips, fingertips pressing into you, sent shivers throughout your body. She backed you into the wall, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth while you lowered your guard and let her. So caught up in the taste of you, she almost missed the elevator opening up to her floor. Hardly even breaking the kiss, you two made your way out. Paige knew exactly where to go and you were blindly being led by her, stumbling over your own feet.

Paige fumbled around in her pocket for her keys, roughly jamming them into the lock and pushing the door open. The apartment was dark with the exception of a few city lights pouring in through the windows. Standing in place for a couple seconds longer, you felt the kiss slow down before Paige stopped it completely.

"Fuck," she spoke breathlessly, running a hand through her hair. She reluctantly backed away from you, turning on the lights. With the apartment's kitchen now being fully lit, you could see into the living room as well. The place was beautifully furnished, with little fake plants placed around on the shelves and pictures of Paige and her friends framed up on the walls. Her couch looked far more comfortable than the couch Noa had described earlier and you were dreading having to return to it later tonight.

Paige appeared in front of you, her hands coming up to cup your face. "I want you to go into my bedroom, turn the light on, and then sit down on the bed and wait for me," she instructed lowly. You nodded silently, backing up in the direction of the bedroom while giving Paige the sexiest smile you could muster. In reality, you were absolutely panicking.

Once you got to the bedroom, you switched on the lamp that rested on the bedside table and seated yourself on the edge of the bed. You were unsure of how to sit, or maybe you should try lying down? You decided on taking your shoes and socks off first, neatly dropping them on the side of the bed. You didn't have time to further your thoughts on how to sit because just as you had finished putting your things aside, Paige entered the bedroom and shut the door behind her. She was carrying a bottle of water that she set down on the nightstand, laughing when she noticed you awkwardly staring.

"You look uncomfortable."

"I'm not, just waiting for you," you replied, hoping the shakiness in your voice didn't betray you.

Paige walked over and stood before you, enticingly biting her lip. She leaned down at the same time that you leaned back, a seductive game of cat and mouse as she crawled forward whilst you crawled backward. Your smiles grew when your back hit the headboard and you realized you had nowhere else to go.

"You've been staring at me all night with those eyes," she murmured, and you felt her breath on your lips.

"What eyes?"

Paige rubbed her own nose against yours before she reconnected your lips. She pushed your legs apart with her hands, running them up and down the smooth material of your leggings. You let out a soft moan into her mouth when her knee came in contact with your heated center, bucking your hips in order to feel more of her.

Paige took it upon herself to quicken the pace, instinctively grinding into you. Her lips eventually left yours, trailing down your neck and leaving wet pecks all over. Her teeth bit softly into your skin, marking you as hers. You pressed her further into you, hands snaking under her shirt and roaming all over her back. Her attack on your flesh was violent, the pain pulling a pathetic whimper out of you.

"Fuck, do that again," Paige mumbled against your skin, repeating her actions a little rougher this time to gain a bigger reaction from you.

"Ah, Paige!" you slammed your hand against her shoulder, screwing your eyes shut.

She yanked harshly at the jersey still clinging to your body, "Take this shit off," she spat out. She pushed you down into the mattress, ripping the garment from your body and discarding it somewhere in the room. Your sweatshirt came off next, leaving you clad in only a bra and your leggings. Paige pulled her own shirt over her head, her necklace dangling over your face. You used it to pull her back down into you, hungry for a taste of her again.

Her fingertips crept underneath you and she hooked them onto your bra strap, skillfully unlatching it and pulling it off you. Dilated pupils gazed down at your exposed breasts, her hands hastily coming up to touch them like a child in a toy store. She kneaded, sucked, licked, kissed, her attention focused solely on your hardened nipples, leaving your neglected pussy uncontrollably dripping.

"Paige," you whined desperately, your back arching so far off the bed that Paige's hands forced you back down.

"Hm?" she hummed inattentively.

"I need you..."

A loud popping sound came from Paige letting go of your nipple, holding your stare as she lowered her body closer to where you needed her most. Just as she had hooked her fingers on your bra strap, she hooked them on the waistband of your leggings and slowly pulled them down.

Your panties were downright soaked, earning a mocking laugh from the blonde.

"So wet for me mama," she purred, a smirk on her face.

She took her thumb and ran it straight down your clothed slit. You sucked in a sharp breath, hands already grabbing at the sheets on the bed. To Paige, you looked like an angel lying there, like a good girl with those pleading eyes as you waited to be fucked senseless. Finally, Paige removed your panties and tossed them aside with the rest of your clothes.

She shamelessly played around in your slick, soaking each and every one of her fingers in it.

"Tell me you want it."

"I want it Paige," you breathed out.

Paige's face appeared overtop of you, her jaw clenched tightly in disapproval, "Beg."

You were so turned on you didn't even protest, instead just propped yourself up on your elbows to be closer to her. Her fingers danced around in teasingly slow circles on your clit, a knot gradually forming in your stomach. "Please I want you to fuck me, please baby I need it so bad. Want your fingers inside me," you exhorted pathetically.

Without wasting another second, the blonde inserted two lengthy fingers inside of you. It was like looking into a mirror the way Paige's face copied yours; when you bit your lip, she bit hers, when your mouth involuntarily gaped open, so did hers. She was taunting you, forcing you to see how undone you were becoming. Tightly gripping her bicep, you dug your nails into the large muscle.

Her fingers pumped in and out of you, thumb doing work on your clit to bring you closer to the edge. The squelching noise that filled the room sent heat to your cheeks, and if it wasn't that then it was the look Paige was giving you as she fucked you. She was proud of the mess you were becoming, the mess she was making you. She kissed your lips over and over again even though you couldn't kiss back.

Your head was spinning with thoughts of Paige, the feeling of Paige inside you. Your toes curled involuntarily, noises you had never heard yourself make before echoed off the walls of the room.

"Yes yes yes, i'm close," you cried out, "fuck just like that!"

Paige hurriedly kissed her way back down to your pussy, replacing her thumb with her tongue. She mercilessly sucked you like a starved woman enjoying her first meal, or a guilty one enjoying her last. Her tongue moved nimbly against you, fingers fucking in and out of you and feeling the tightness as you clenched around her.

"You gonna come for me, huh?"

"Uh huh," you fervently nodded.

"Hmm," she hummed into you, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge, "let me hear you say it. I want to hear you say it."

"Yes! I'm gonna come for you..."

Paige expertly curled her fingers inside you, lying her tongue flat against your clit and forcing you to do none other than let go. The knot that had been building in your stomach finally fell apart, your legs snapping shut and trapping Paige's head there. You pushed and pulled at her, your desires becoming fuzzy as the orgasm swallowed you whole. Moans and strings of curse words unconsciously spilled from your lips. They were a stark contrast to the sweet things Paige cooed as she left kisses along your stomach, and your chest, and back up to your lips.

"Such a good girl," she whispered on your lips, "you were so good for me."

You shivered at the empty feeling you got from Paige pulling her fingers out of you, they were covered in the same slick that her chin was, glistening under the lamp's light. You smiled tiredly at her, snaking your arms around her neck and pressing your lips to hers.

"You tired?" she asked, observing your face.

"Yeah."

She pulled away from you and reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, twisting it open and bringing it to your lips. "Sleep here tonight," she said, "I can take you where you need to go in the morning."

Swallowing the water you said, "You sure?"

"Yeah, you probably can't walk after that anyway."

"Shut up," you snorted hitting her chest.

The two of you settled in bed together, your naked body finding warmth against her clothed one as she cuddled you close to her. You smiled to yourself, nuzzling your face in her neck and drifting off to sleep.

#🤍anon #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #wlw post #smut #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #paige buckets #gay as fuck #sommer bueckers #requests

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blorbologist · 7 months ago

Text

Y'know, I think I figured out why the Hells still feel like a new low-level party to me, even though they're level 13 and almost 100 episodes in.

I don't quite think it's the lack of conversations, or the fact half the party's plot hooks are big ties to past campaigns - though that definitely plays a part.

... Bell's Hells still primarily rely on quest givers.

Most of their goals are given to them and do not feel organic to the party, and constantly remind us that the Hells are pretty much never the most powerful people in the room. Which is usually something you see with a low-level party.

NPCs offering jobs is not a bad thing; it's a very common plot hook. Matt has been extremely skilled with using NPC quest givers in those two campaigns. Not only do they provide an obvious plot thread, but they can put the party in the path of others (say, the Nein running into the Iron Shepherds while doing a job for the Gentleman and everything that came of that). And the Hells had a solid start with it too - Eshteross was an excellent quest giver!

The problem is that Bell's Hells have never really not had a quest giver.

Maybe it's a byproduct of the more plot-heavy structure of this campaign? But while prior parties have felt like they decided on their course of action and what they prioritized, Bell's Hells feels less like level 13 (13! Level 13!) experienced adventurers and more like an MMO group clicking on the exclamation point over an NPC's head. Where does the plot demand we go next? Who do we report back to?

They're level 13.

At level 13, Vox Machina had just defeated a necromantic city-state to clear their name and Percy's conscience. And, you know, the Conclave just destroyed Emon. No one was explicitly telling the group to gather Vestiges and save the world (though Matt guided them there), and they were usually among the most powerful people in the room. They chose which Vestiges to prioritize, which dragons to tackle when, even if the over-all plot was pretty clear.

At level 13, the Mighty Nein were celebrating Traveler Con (another PC goal, I'll note) after brokering peace between two nations, accidentally becoming pirates and heroes of the Dynasty. The Nein regularly chose what to do based on personal goals, not grand ones. Though definitely smaller fish than Vox Machina at this level, they were very independent and gaining solid political clout.

While we're at it: level 13 is one level lower than the Ring of Brass, who had a huge amount of sway over Avalir. They ended the world, and also saved it, while in the grand scheme of things being only a smidge more powerful than Bell's Hells are now.

Can you really see the Hells wielding that amount of influence, when they're constantly being told what to do next?

The god-eater might be unleashed, so Bell's Hells have no time to do anything but what is asked of them. No time for therapy unless stolen from Feywild time, no travel on foot and late-night watches. They haven't even had time to grieve FCG. Percy was grieved in the middle of the Conclave arc. Molly was grieved when half the party was still in irons.

Matt is in the very unfortunate spot of not being able to give the Hells the same agency as the other two parties. Not only because of the world-ending plot introduced so early on; they are surrounded by characters they know (and the cast knows) are stronger and wiser than them - the familiarity of the past PCs and NPCs is to their disadvantage.

Why would the party reasonably ignore Keyleth's task that will help save the world and go off on a romp? Why would the cast when they know well Keyleth has to be sensible and with the best intentions in mind? The stakes are just too high.

It means that the Hells still feel like they're running errands instead of pursuing their own destiny. Their accomplishments are diminished as just being parts of a to-do list, and any stakes feel padded by several level 20 PCs/NPCs standing 5 steps away ready to catch them.

This isn't Bell's Hell's fault, nor is it Matt's. It could be amended, I think, if the Hells are really left to their own devices for a long period of time without support and shortcuts (like during the party split)... which would be really tricky to pull off at this point in the campaign.

They're level 13. They're big fish, but they're stuck in a pond full of friendly sharks, so they don't feel big at all.

#critical role #campaign 3 #bells hells #cr meta #critical role meta #the percy's conscience thing is half a joke. i love him but man he rlly went there just for the Vengeance. this isnt about him tho #to quote burr: we rlly spent the entire campaign on imogen and orym's backstories and everything else is sidequests #it's just. god. the constant hand-holding paired w the fact there's no TENSION from the fact they're taking the orders #the Nein were allergic to quest givers partially bc they rightfully didn't trust them. But the cast and audience trusts Keyleth and co 100%#it feels like you could put any other characters in this group and Of Course they'd still do roughly the same things on a macro scale #i love Orym and Liam's intent behind the character. but i. think it all boils down to his strong connection w Keyleth ;;#because of Course he'd reach out when things got bad. and of Course they would turn to her for advice.#the other three parties mentioned could Say Things and they would get Done. kinda iffy for the Nein but they could still boss ppl around #who can the Hells delegate smaller tasks to? ask to spy for them? deal with arcane batteries? no one! Because they ARE the small guys!

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant

( a 303-page novel by Anne Taylor )

prompt: behind closed doors, many families have secret turmoil. you experience your boyfriend's with him one fateful Christmas. or how Carmy finally made the decision to get away.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 10.4k+

note: highly recommend the book. also let author write out her stress and trauma please, this was GOING TO get deleted but 10k is a lot of effort so please be kind in what you say.

warnings: spoilers, cursing, toxic family, small hurt and comfort, loving someone despite toxic situations beyond anyone's control, Lord's name in vain, a little of what happens after THAT scene, reader nicknamed Peach.

⚠️ season two, episode six spoilers

"What're you readin', Peach?"

You looked up through the lens of your glasses, smiling at your questioning boyfriend as his bare feet slapped the polished floors of the hotel suite you sought refuge in. You greeted with a soft tease, "Good morning to you, too, sunshine."

"Yeah, yeah. You're right, sorry, hi," he smirked, bending down to kiss your lips in greeting. "Been up long?"

"No, no, just about a chapter or so," you lied, not wanting him to know you've been up for hours out of sheer anxiety. "I made us some coffee, too."

"My perfect girl," he smirked, bending to kiss you again. "Want a refill?"

"I'm okay, thank you." It was quiet for a moment before you heard Carmy fucking around in the kitchen, trying to focus on the novel in your lap, but being most unsuccessful. "Don't forget about tonight," you called in reminder, wondering how to broach the subject before just ripping the Bandaid off.

"What's tonight, again?"

"Carmy."

"I'm kidding," he chuckled, exiting the kitchen to take a seat on the couch at your feet, bringing them onto his lap. "I know, we're gonna go over at, like, 2..."

You nodded absently, seeing the distant look in his eye. "Are you sure it's okay for me to come?" You wondered, nudging him with your foot.

"Hmm?" Carmy looked at you in confusion. "Peach, you've been before, why would it be weird now?"

"I don't know, I wasn't a girlfriend all those times I attended."

"Oh, you're a girlfriend this year? Hmm... To who?"

Your eyes rolled as you pinched him; loving the easy smile on his lips. "Not funny, I'm just trying to be sensitive to all parties," you pouted.

"I know," he allotted, taking a mouthful of coffee before setting his mug down. He started rubbing your feet and ankles, admitting, "I'm a little nervous, I guess..."

"I know."

"It's nice that you'll be there," he nodded, sighing. "They all still give me shit for going away."

"I know, and it's not fair to you," you assured, "you don't deserve that kinda treatment. Say the word, Bear, and we'll skip it."

"Too late now," he wiped his tired eyes. "I need a smoke, Peach."

"I'm gonna hop a shower."

"I'll be in," he smirked, standing with his coffee after gently lifting your feet from his lap. You watched him move for the balcony sans a shirt and frowned when your mind repeated the passage you had just read. Quickly, you opened your book again and read what made your heart so very heavy:

"'You think we're a family,' said Cody, turning back. 'You think we're some jolly, situation-comedy family when we're in particles, torn apart all over the place, and our mother was a witch.'"

The similarities were eery. You saw Carmy light up through the glass door of your rented hotel suite, knowing his family was falling apart and he was powerless to it all; they all were. Carmy, his siblings, any loved ones... You tossed the book on the table, stood, and moved for the balcony.

Carmy leaned on the railing, glancing over shoulder as your arms slithered around his middle. With a kiss to his bare shoulder, you whispered, "I love you, Cream. So much."

He took a long, steadying breath, but replied with full sincerity, "I know, and I love you, too, Peach. So much."

Yeah, that's right, bitches. You were Peaches and Cream. Did it get cuter than that? Didn't think so!

Another kiss to his shoulder and you promised, "I'll be with you the whole time."

"I know."

"You're not alone."

"I know," he sighed. "I just... I know what we're walking into."

"We'll get through it - whatever happens. C'mon, come get a shower with me. It'll save water and shit."

However, you probably used about twice as much because as obvious romp in the glass-stall started. When clean, you both got out, dried off, did your hair, then your make-up; then both getting dressed and ready for one helluva holiday.

On the way, you stopped to pick up flowers for Carmy's mother, Donna, keeping hold of the homemade peach cobbler you had prepared. The whole drive, Carmy kept a possessive hand on your thigh; his nerves showing through as he nervously tapped a rhythm to your flesh. You reminded him to breathe, but he couldn't focus long enough to keep himself regulated.

You tried distracting him with conversation, but nothing stuck for too long. You tried letting a hand thread into his curls, but it didn't soothe him like it usually did.

Arriving, you and Carmy just sat in your car for a long moment. You didn't rush him, you did't speak, you just held his hand with one hand as the other extended to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck; and waited for his move. "All right," he cleared his throat, throwing his cigarette butt out the window before rolling it up and cutting the engine. "You ready?"

"We got this," you assured softly.

"There you are," Carmy smirked, hands catching your waist as you tried to pass through the hall, "thought you ran outa here already."

"We're just warming up," you purred, his chest to your back; your arms crossed to hold onto his engorged biceps. You grinned as your foreheads met for a fleeting moment of peace.

"I'm really happy you're here," he whispered.

"Me, too."

"Love you, Peach."

"Love you, Cream," you sang, making him chuckle a little.

"You know, some of the guys thought you and I finally getting together is all some big cover story."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm," he hummed, snuggling into your embrace as you both found a secular moment of seclusion to get in a much-needed recharge. "Say you're actually dating some hunky Italian model dude."

You hissed between your teeth, "So, so close, but he's actually French."

Carmy chuckled, then took a sobering breath and glanced over his shoulder. "Should get back. I found Mikey and Nat - they were on the front stoop, smoking."

"Good," you mused, turning in his embrace. "Gimme a kiss, please, then you can go," you pouted.

He looked up, then at you with mocking confusion, "But there's no mistletoe."

"I wanna kiss."

He snickered at your pouting, fat lip, leaning in to find your lips with his. There was a brief moment outside of time, space, and reality; and it was when you and Carmy kissed. God, was he a good kisser, albeit a bit wet, but still a damn-good kisser; and you relished every moment of it. His taste was like an intoxication. His hands hot. Smell prickled your sinuses delightfully. Body firm, love warm.

"Ewww," Fak gagged when he saw you two, "get a room, nobody wants to see that! Ugh! God!" He shuffled past you.

"Fak," you snipped, watching him pause.

"Sorry, Peach," he sighed, leaning in to peck your cheek. "You look beautiful as ever."

You hummed, patted his cheek, and then took Carmy's hand to enter the kitchen after Fak where Donna worked frantically. "Hi, Mama, Dee!" You greeted cheerfully, Carmy's hand already sweating.

"Oh! Hi, my baby, Peaches! Oh, good, good, good, you made it!" Donna rushed over to kiss your cheeks, hands held out to not get grease or sauce or fish on you. "You look so beautiful!" She gasped, "Oh, honey, you look - wow! Stunning! Just stunning!"

"Oh, you just like flattering me," you teased, feeling Carmy's hand tighten. "Something smells so fucking amazing - oh, this is going to be a dinner for the books, huh?"

"Who's flattering who now?" She laughed.

"It's not flattery when it's completely true," you laid on thick, hoping the compliments bulked up to fluff her ego enough to save the family from an inevitable breakdown later.

"Did you bring your cobbler?" She asked with glee.

"Of course," you beamed, "I couldn't come here without one, that'd just be criminal!" Donna laughed with you, and you thought now was a good time to ask, "Can I help with anything?"

"What? Oh! No, no, no, honey, Peaches, no, no, no, I just want you to get a drink and go talk - go mingle! It's the holidays!"

You looked at Carmy as she went back to cooking, flabbergasted as to what you could say. "I'm gonna stay, you go - sit," He whispered with pinched brows and nodding his head, rubbing your waist. "Go 'head, baby, it's okay."

"I could peel - "

"It's alright, Peach," he chuckled, pecking your lips. "Go." His lips moved to your ear, "I want you good and drunk by tonight so we can have really dirty sex later, huh?"

"Deal," you purred. "But I can sit over there - "

"Peach."

You glanced at Donna, then at Carmy, whispering, "I just want to help."

"I know, Peach. Not right now though, okay?"

"She likes me, though." He nodded in agreement, looking ready to cave. "Stop trying to get outta this, Carmy, and just accept it," you smirked. "I'm gonna get some wine and be back."

He hummed as you kissed him in parting, and when you exited, missed the way Donna smirked at Carmy, "Can't leave a room without a kiss? Didn't think you'd ever be so possessive, Carmy, honey."

"I'm not, she likes it," he eased. "Here, let me get that," he freed her hands, trying not to snap when she picked up her wine immediately after. Carmen got to work doing what his mother barked at him, but then the Faks came in, and you returned, and then Mikey arrived - it all turning into an overcrowded shit-show.

"Where's the cake!?" Donna worried.

"It's defrosting, Ma," Carmen answered.

"Ma, why don't you let him help you?" Mikey sneered. "It's, like, all he fucking does, he'd be great."

"What was that? Was that, like, a shot?" Carmy snapped.

"Baby, don't, c'mon," you tried, reaching for his waist to curl your fingers so he felt your long nails. Not too hard, just enough to assure him you had ahold of him.

But Carmen couldn't let it go, even when his mother tired to diffuse the siblings. He snarled at his older brother, "I'm the guy that does food. You're the guy that what? Y-Y-You, uh, start a hundred different businesses and have zero follow-through."

"Carmy, don't," you tried, but it was lost to the sea of voices all talking at once.

But his brother was antagonizing, his mother deflecting, and he snapped, "This is why - This is why I didn't wanna come home, why I didn't wanna bring Peaches home to you all."

You remained silent when his mother snapped, "Oh, fuck you!"

"What the fuck!? What!?"

"Why the fuck would you say that?" Donna snarled.

"It's fuckin' Christmas," Mikey tacked on. They both over lapped one another, and Carmy felt backed into a corner.

"Not in front of my girl, man, fuck," Carmy had snipped at them.

"Say the fuckin' words!"

Carmy paused, then answered, "I love you, guys."

His mother was pleased and kissed his cheek, going back to cooking as Mikey kissed Carm's head. He looked over at you, mutely taking your outstretched hand to give a squeeze for each count to five; regulate his breathing, and then nodding in assurance he was okay. He went back to doing whatever his mother directed. Before he could slip away, you leaned into his ear, whispering, "I'm gonna step out."

"Good," he nodded, glancing back at his mom - but Donna was distracted. "I'll find you soon," he promised, pecking your lips before you exited the kitchen.

"Hey! Hey, Peach!"

"Hi, Mikey," you smiled, looking up at him when you paused outside the kitchen.

"Listen, uh... I just, uh... Look, I know I put you in a weird position," he sighed, hand to the back of his neck.

"How so?"

"By callin' you... Textin' you..."

"You want to check on Carmy," you sighed, "and you're as good as my real brother, so, I don't mind."

"It feels wrong since, you know, y'all are together now or somethin'."

"Mikey," you eased, "I was your guys' friend first, then I was family, and then I was Carmy's girlfriend. If you need your friend or your sister, I'm here, but if you need Carmy's girlfriend, I'll have to tell him. Get it?"

He chuckled, "I knew you'd understand."

"All too well," you eased.

"He doin' all right...?"

"He will be. He's just," you took a pause to sigh, "really tired and stressed. He works really hard, Mikey... Like really, really hard. Like you wouldn't believe."

"Nah, I know, Peaches, I know."

"Might be nice for him to hear that sometimes."

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!"

You apologized and had to leave Michelle when you heard Carmen's elevated voice, excusing yourself to look around the corner and spot your boyfriend in some heated argument with his brother and his brothers best friend, who they called Cousin, Richie Jerimovich. You were about to step in when you froze, hearing the argument without the guys realizing you were standing there.

"Seriously?" Mikey laughed. "You seriously think you're gonna keep a girl like Peach? Man, we all know this is some bullshit fling, but seeing Claire Bear - Man Alive!"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Carmy snapped.

"Oh, c'moonnnn, Carmy," Richie groaned, "look, I love her, I do, but we all know there ain't no way Peach is, like, girlfriend material. She's still sowing her wild oats, you know, just, fuckin' around and shit!"

"Fuck did you say!?" Carmy snarled, lunging for Richie but being caught by Fak's faster hands. "Huh!? The fuck did you just say!? Callin' my girl a slut? Fuck are you on about - "

"No, I ain't say - "

"Better watch your fucking mouth," Carm growled, "and learn to respect our relationship 'cause neither of us are goin' anywhere. Peach is here to stay - like it or not - and she's here to stay with me!"

"But you had such the crush on Claire - "

"I had a crush on Peach, too!"

"But Claire - "

"Nothing about Claire, Jesus, fuck! I don't need y'all fucking meddling! Peach and i are good, fuck you doin' set me up with some other chick!? I don't want nobody else - I got the girl of my fuckin' dreams, fuck you guys doin' tryna ruin that!?"

"We're just tryna help you, man, talk you up, man! Fuck! Don't gotta sound so ungrateful - "

"You don't need to! You don't need to talk me up to anybody, you fuckin' idiots! I have Peach! I don't need you to talk me up because I'm good, okay? I'm good. I got Peach, I'm committed to her, so don't try to talk me up to anyone for any fucking reason - good intentions or not!"

"Y'all aren't even serious!" Mikey laughed loudly. "C'mon! Peach isn't a relationship kinda girl, ain't no way you're thinkin' y'all are gonna last or be some, like, serious thing. You're just bored! But we're telling you, man, Carmy, you don't gotta be anymore, 'cause Claire Bear is - "

"Not my fucking girl!" Carm snapped, temper loosening. "Fuck off! Ain't got nothing decent to say - then just shut the fuck up!"

They called Steven in and you panicked for a millisecond before evening your stride to look like you just arrived. "Hey," you smiled to the lads, "what's all the yelling about? Jesus Christ, it's like a holiday at my house when Meemaw comes to visit."

"I told you," Carmy's attitude directed at you, making you feel disarmed, "these assholes don't respect our relationship, they were trying to set me up with someone else."

You offered the others a stale look as your hand latched to Carmy's, sounding like a scolding mother, "Real mature, you guys. That's wildly disrespectful and it's hard not to take it personally."

"We don't mean it in a bad way, Peach," Richie sighed, "just that there's other options and neither of you have to settle."

"'Settle'?" Carmy laughed, and you had to readjust your stance to prevent him from charging. "You're forgetting Peach did whatever she could to make us work, she was loyal when none of y'all could bother answering the phone, and she always held me down. And then, when I was finally good, I promised her we could come home. So, you jagoffs owe her your thanks that we're even home this Christmas."

"None needed," you smiled, wanting to start screaming yourself but holding back for the sake of Carmen. "I'm sure their jealousy keeps them warm at night, who am I to take that from them by having them apologize?"

"Don't do that," Mikey groaned. "Get all high and mighty."

"How have I ever? You're the assholes shitting on your brother for having a girlfriend. Just 'cause you've all thought about me when self-pleasuring, doesn't mean take your jealousy out on our relationship."

The argument started up again, sighing as you didn't engage but instead tried to hold your boyfriend back when he bared his teeth at a few comments hurled at you both. You flinched away when Mikey started reaching for Carmy to physically pick at him, inciting his anger; making him snap back to not "fucking touch" him.

"Mikey, please," you tried to stave off, but Richie reached out and lugged a heavy arm around your shoulders. "Richie, for fuck's sake. C'mon, just fuck off. Mikey, don't fucking touch him - c'mon, guys!"

"Awh, you get so defensive for him, it's so cute," Richie laughed, jostling you a little as Mikey and Carmy still snapped and snarled at each other in the way only siblings could.

"'Cause y'all don't know how to fuckin' stop," you pushed Richie off you. But then...

"HEY!"

You flinched when a wooden spoon flew through the air to hit Stevie, who yelped in shock from the sting. "Hey! What the fuck?" He looked up and asked, "Auntie D, did you just throw a spoon at me?"

"Yeah, I did," Donna snarled, hanging in the doorway. "You, Richard, bring her the pop - "

"Deedee - "

"You, Carmen, I need you!"

This triggered another avalanche of voices to overlap one another. You moved towards Carmy as Mikey approached his mother, hearing Richie tell Carmen, "We're not done about this Claire Bear thing."

"Yes, you fucking are," you snapped, pushing Richie a half-step back. "Fuck off, Cousin, you're taking this too far."

"I only meant - "

"We all know what y'all mean, but go fuck yourself! We're happy, now either accept that or fuck off 'cause you're not gonna come between us. Go, goodbye, go, go, go tend to your pregnant wife - go, goodbye, fuck you," he tried to talk over you, sounding amused, "Merry Christmas, I love you and shit, but fuck you, go away."

He backed off as Stevie left the room, allowing you to turn for Carmy as he leaned on the arm of an armchair. His head shook and reached for you, bringing you in closer until his head rested on your stomach and his arms coiled in a vice grip. You frowned and thread your fingers through his hair, hearing his mother starting up another tangent about needing Carmen. With a sigh, he looked up at you, "Thank you."

"Hmm?"

"For just being here," he whispered. "I'm sorry about them."

"They're breaking your balls, baby," you smiled, curling his curls behind his ears. "C'mon, we should go help your mama."

Carmy sighed and stood to his feet, "You don't have to stay."

"But then how will I know you're okay?" You pouted, watching him smile and wrap his arms around your waist.

"I'm sorry about them," he whispered. "They don't - they don't know what the fuck they're talking about."

"It's okay," you matched his tone, ignoring your own burning-hot emotions. "They're just jealous."

He nodded, hearing his mother snarl something else about needing him; making Carmy sigh. His lips found yours in a slow kiss, pausing to lean his forehead on yours, "Really grateful you're here with me, Peach."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Cream," you grinned, starting to lead him back towards the kitchen.

"Hang on," he paused you, glancing around to see nobody lingering. "You know I love you, Peach, right?"

"And you know I'm very serious about this relationship, Carmy, right?"

He rested against you, breathing, "I know." Then his lips spread in a grin, "Gonna marry you one day, Peach."

"Good," you teased, but being honest, "because I can't see spending my life with anyone else but you, Cream. I mean, who else has a family this entertaining?"

He laughed as he followed after you.

"Help me, Peach, please, Goddamn it," Donna grunted, trying to lift a heavy, full cast iron pot. "There we go," she mused when you gabbed the other end to put it back on the burner. You didn't comment that it was the same pot she had Carmy move earlier, just doing as she asked.

She only let you in the kitchen because of Carmy.

Speaking of... "Behind, baby," Carmy muttered, a hand ghosting your waist as he moved. Sugar appeared and you only tried to minimize yourself as eight different timers were ringing for any unknown fucking reason.

Donna sent Carmy off to get saltines for a pregnant, nauseous Tiff, leaving you three women. "Oh!" Donna gasped, "You're almost empty! Here, here, Peach, here you go!" She cheered when she saw your nearly-empty wine glass. Sugar sent you a long look, and you knew this was eating her alive to watch her mother like this; but you hoped you were enough of a buffer for them.

A few minutes later, Donna asked if you could go grab another bottle of wine for you two to share. You froze, between a rock and a hard place; knowing you shouldn't but not wanting to upset the host. You had once done the same with your own mother, perhaps being a reason you didn't go home for holidays.

"Yeah, of course, one second, Miss Lady," you told Donna, sending a confused look to Sugar.

When you walked out, you nearly ran straight into Carmy. "Shit," he breathed, "sorry, baby, didn't mean to run into you like."

"It's okay, but where you goin', speed racer?"

"Mikey's gift," he actually grinned, watching you return his excitement after knowing how much thought he put in.

"You know we're doing exchanges later," you laughed lightly, watching him go. Finding the wine rack, you selected a bottle, and returned to the kitchen where Donna and Sugar were bickering. "Here," you smiled, setting the bottle down to uncork it.

"Thank you, honey," Donna purred, accepting your pour. When she turned for the stove again, you winked at Sugar and discreetly tipped the wine bottle over into the sink to drain it until it was about a quarter way full. "Carm? Where the fuck are my saltines?" She yelled.

When he returned, he gave his mother what she needed before approaching you. "Wanna take a break?" He mumbled.

"Dinner doesn't make itself, baby," you teased.

"Hmm," he hummed, pecking your neck, "I'm gonna run Tiff up some crackers."

You continued your work for several long minutes, when suddenly, Donna pulled one of the seven fishes from the oven. She turned, set it on the counter, but stumbled last second to accidentally knock her wine glass over. The shattering made both Sugar and Donna swear. You wanted to help, but Sugar was already on the floor trying to clean, causing Donna to seethe, "It's like I fuckin' have to do everything for everyone." You and Natalie tried to assure her, but she spoke over any reassurance, "No one fucking lifts a finger to help me."

"Look, I'm getting it right now!"

Donna leered over her daughter, making you freeze, "Can you just go upstairs and get Dad's gun out of my drawer," she held her thumb and pointer finger like a gun, muzzle to her temple, "and I think I'm just gonna blow my fuckin' brains out, and then you guys can make dinner - " Sugar tried to speak over her mother but was unsuccessful, "because I don't think anyone would fuckin' miss me!"

Natalie sobbed as she tried to say anything other than "No! You're okay!" When the older woman gabbed her daughter's cheeks in a pinching-hold, you felt like throwing up as the scene - the words - the actions - it was all too familiar to you. They still yelled over one another, but then, Steven entered the kitchen and disturbed them all.

He only got to greet, "Hey, Donna, Mama D - "

Before Donna screeched at him, "Oh, motherfucking asshole!"

"Out, out, out," You ushered, gently directing Stevie to the door; Sugar repeating what you said as Donna still snarled and yelled and insulted and cursed.

"Get the fuck out!"

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," you whispered when you pushed him out the door. "Thank you for offering, but we got it - it's okay."

You sniffled as Sugar collected the trash and promised to take it out; one of the timers ringing. Donna looked lost and confused as Sugar left, the matriarch whispering, "What's that for?"

"Is it the flounder?"

She didn't answer, lost in her mind, yet muttering, "Nobody would fuckin' miss me."

"Mama D?" You called, watching her startle back into reality. "Is that timer for the flounder?"

"Oh! Right! Yes!" She clapped, pointing at you, "And that's why you're my favorite, Peach. Tell you what," she scoffed, shaking her head, "don't you ever have kids. They fuckin' ruin everything, never show gratitude, never bother to help their fucking mother."

"Well, I'm not thinking about kids yet," you chuckled softly, hoping to distract her. "Still got a lot more life to live before that."

"Just don't do it," she spat. "Even with a sweet boy like Carmy, kids just ruin relationships. Marriage ain't no better, either. What - where's the fucking bread?"

"Here," you sighed, showing her the bread basket.

"Hey," Carmy entered the kitchen, looking exhausted, "can I talk to you for a second, Peach?"

"If your Mama doesn't need me," you nodded, not wanting to tell him too much about what you witnessed.

"I need you everyday, honey," she spoke softly, leaning in to peck your cheek, "but it's fine, it's fine - I don't need help. Go with Carmy. Go, go, go, go."

"Holler if you need us," you smiled, "even if it's just for hot gossip."

"My girl," she teased gently with a wink.

"C'mon," Carmy muttered, taking your hand, and leading you out a side door. He glanced around a few times, finally finding a secluded part of the house. When he came to a halt, you did too, and he sighed as his hands took your waist, "Sugar told me to come rescue you. Said something happened with Mom and I should check on you? The hell happened?"

You shrugged, "Just... Sometimes I forget what family feels like. I left mine for a multitude of reasons, maybe I feel like I fit in better with you Berzatto's. Mama D just got frustrated, and it reminded me of my mom. I wasn't scared, but I think I was triggered."

He nodded, "You need a break."

"I'm okay, I promise."

"You're not," he sighed. "You shouldn't be on the frontlines against her. Okay? It's too stressful for anyone and I need you with me. I need you whole. You know? Need you intact for me, and Ma's only gonna rip you to shreds."

You pouted, "I just... I thought if I helped, she'd feel calmer, maybe save you guys from taking her shit. We used to cook all the time together..."

Carmen sighed, reaching for your cheek to caress your jaw, "You really are a sweetheart." Carmy leaned in and claimed a kiss from your lips, making you both sigh in contentment. When he pulled back, Carmy whispered, "I love you, Peach."

"I love you, too, Bear."

"Carmy!"

He whined, deflating on your shoulder at his mother's cry. "Holidays are almost over, baby. Gotta hang on for a bit, I need you intact, too."

You parted ways, Carmy returning to the kitchen as you meandered around the rest of the rooms, peaking into each of them. "Hey!" Someone cheered, making you look up to a separate doorway leading to a sitting room.

"Oh, shit, hey, Pete!"

"Peaches!"

"Just Peach!"

He laughed and accepted your hug, "Merry Christmas! Happy holidays, seasons greetings, warm tidings, and shit."

"You, too," you cooed, glancing at the tin in his hand. "Oh... Y-You brought something?"

Pete blinked as the room snickered. "Yeah? It's... It's tuna casserole."

"And you brought fish... Why?"

"'Cause it's the Feast of Seven Fishes - "

"And by bringing tuna, it'd be eight fishes."

He sighed, "Yep, so I keep being told."

"I mean, good intentions, honey, but wildly misplaced," you winced. "Probably shouldn't let Carmy see..."

And of course, when you said that, your boyfriend came from behind to clap his hands and call, "Hey, family!" He tried to announce dinner but Pete was too happy to cheer loudly and greet your lover. "Woah, woah, woah. What the fuck is that?" Carmy demanded when he saw the aluminum dish tin.

"Don't tell him," Michelle voted.

"What do you mean, 'don't tell him?'" Mikey followed.

"It's nothin', it's nothin', I - "

"Peach," Carmy looked at you, making you freeze, "what is this? What is that? Peach, the hell is that?"

"Um, well," you tried to smile in reassurance, taking his stiff hand, "you know, you're gonna get mad, but Pete's heart was in the right place."

From behind, "Uncle" Lee told Carmy, "It's a tuna casserole."

You saw the way Carmy locked in on Pete, taking a half-step back but not letting go of his hand. "It's seven fishes, Pete," Carmy snapped. It started a new wave of slander. By the end, his hand was clamped around yours in a vice, leading you through the room and telling Pete, "Just don't let her see. Don't let her see!"

"Dinner," you reminded the room, following Carmy as Sugar passed to approach her husband.

"Wanna help me dress the desserts table?"

You nodded in agreement, and together, you and Carmy brought out all kinds of dishes to leave on the table. You were bringing out the peach cobbler you brought when you caught the tail-end of whatever Michelle was telling Carmy. "That's so nice," you interrupted, moving between the two to set down the cobbler, "offering up your place like that, but we have one."

Her head cocked, asking in interest, "You do?"

"My family does," you nodded.

"Well, think about what I said," Michelle told Carmy. "Would love to see you guys in the city," she smirked at you.

"Yeah, all right, sure," he agreed. When she left, you turned on your boyfriend with confusion, but he only sighed, "She was recommending I get away from this family-drama bullshit."

You shrugged, "Not a half-bad idea."

"We'll see..."

"Carmy," you frowned, "we'll do whatever is best and right for us. Okay? Nothing more or less."

"I hear you," he muttered.

"And I just got confirmation that we can use the apartment in Manhattan," you told him. "So, whenever we're ready to go, we can go, okay? We don't have to shack up in a hotel room for much longer."

"I don't mind it," he eased. "I'll make a decision... I'll make a decision by this weekend about New York, okay?" You agreed, him looking over your shoulder before taking your hand. "Dinner's on," he reminded, feeling your hand snake around his waist to rest; letting his arm raise to accommodate you, latch around your shoulders, continuing forward to the dining room.

However, before entering, you pulled Carmy to a halt. "Hey, hey," you smiled, turning him to face you, "I'm really proud of you for coming home. I know it's not easy, but you're so brave for going through this."

"'Brave'?" He scoffed.

"Brave," you agreed, nodding. "People associate it with knights slaying dragons, but in my opinion, it takes far more bravery to stand up to family than it is a stranger. Takes more bravery to confront those that haunt your home than it does to confront a literal dragon. Hmm?"

Carmy reached a hand out to curl a strand of hair behind your ear. "How'd you get so insightful?"

"That bullshit college you, Mikey, and Richie all roasted me about going to them years ago? Yeah, uh-huh, that education paid off."

"Didn't do shit for your grammar, though, did it?"

"Hush," you laughed, pinching his sides to make his squirm.

You and Carmen entered the dining room to see mostly everyone in their seats; slowly making it to your own on the other side of the table. "Here, Peach," Natalie smiled when you sat between her and Carmy; her at the head of the table. "Got you a refill," she set your wine glass in front of you.

"You're a literal angel."

"I have a question," Cicero addressed your half of the table as Carmy got up to check on his mother. "I heard why we call Sugar, Sugar, but where did the nickname 'Peach' come from?"

"Oh," you smiled at him, "Miss Mama Dee taught me to bake and helped me perfect this peach cobbler recipe. I brought it to all my family events, work events, and when I attended, all my school events. Since then, it just stuck as a name."

He hummed and nodded, offer a silent toast with his glass as Carmy returned - looking mildly startled.

You heard Michelle asking if she could start the process to dish up what she wanted to her plate, Carmy assuring her to wait until Donna; she was coming out at any minute. You leaned back in your chair, nuzzling your boyfriend's side; his hand latching around your upper knee to keep you close with you hugging his arm. "All right?" He mumbled, glancing down at you.

"Are you?"

"Mhm."

"What'd your mom say?" You whispered, feeling him stiffen. "Carmen, please..."

"She's upset, stressed; says nobody cares, nobody makes shit beautiful," he whispered frantically.

"Okay," you soothed in his ear, "just breathe, baby, I need you to breathe. Shh," his head was bowed so you pecked his cheek, "she's just stressed from the holidays. We all know how she gets."

He sighed and nodded, caressing the skin of your leg he had been gripping tightly. "Hey, Mikey?" Michelle asked sweetly.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna say grace?"

Mikey gave an awkward sort of chuckle, relenting, "I don't know, cousin. This motherfucker gonna cut me off?"

You blinked and reached for your wine, intrigue peaking. Uncle Lee, who the jab was directed at, cleared his throat and answered, "It depends. Uh, is it a grace we've heard a million times before?"

"Okay, okay," Cicero stepped in.

You offered, "Well, good Christians know the prayers 'cause they're said a million times, right? Huh?"

"Yeah!" There was another round of agreement, desperate to direct the attention away from the two men.

"Does that mean you wanna lead grace, Peach?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, no, no, I think the honor should go to Stevie."

"Can I please not?" Steve blanched at the thought of public speaking.

His wife, Cousin Michelle, changed the subject by asking about the Feast of Seven Fish. Before you or anyone else could truly answer, Uncle Lee was overpowering everyone to give his explanation; trying to make a joke at the end about a Dutch oven by Baby Jesus' manger that burned him or something. You gasped when Mikey lobbed a fork at him, making a buzzer noise while he did.

"Oh," Carmy realized when you did, stretching his arm out to extend over you like a seatbelt; fork clattering to the floor.

"Did you just throw a fork at me!?"

"I did!" Mikey sang, chuckling to himself. "See, that's the thing, Lee, see, 'cause... Y-You see what you did, right? You remember you already bitched about the Dutch oven. See, you did that before."

"Michael," Cicero tried to diffuse, but Mike was deflecting like usual.

"And you fucking cut Peach off," Mikey snarled. "Trying to prove you're the smartest, right? Wanna answer a question that she'd answer the best? Last I checked, she studied different religions in college, so, why the fuck would you want to answer - instead of Peach - if not to just make a repeated, shitty joke?"

It made Carmy now bark, "Mike, hey, don't bring Peach in this, okay? Please, just - just chill out."

But Lee was just getting started. He was scolding Michael, and in the process, stuttered just a bit, but it was enough of a visible weakness. Mike started mocking Lee for his words and delivery, just angry at the 'uncle' without knowing directly what truly bothered himself. In fact, riding high on his angry adrenaline, Mikey looked over and asked for Fak's fork, but the tattooed family-friend wasn't too willing to hand it over; hoping this would pass and settle.

Mikey just reached for Fak's fork himself, promising he just wanted to borrow it. Yet he launched it in the air to throw at Lee again, the entire table voicing their discomfort and displeasure. Everyone tried to diffuse the tension; desperate to muddle the tension enough so it did not, at the least, escalate.

"Carmy," you worried, holding his protective arm, "we should do something. I can get Mikey out of here - "

"No," he muttered sharply, "you don't need to be so physically close to that kind of behavior."

You felt the air shift when Mikey told Lee he could throw forks if he wanted to because they were in his father's house. The tension brewed and your boyfriend looked more and more uncomfortable; leaning into his side enough to get him to do the same and lean into you while both sat rigidly.

Now Lee lit into Mikey in front of everyone about how he was living with his mother still, borrowing money from her and anyone else who listened to Mikey's "bullshit". Now Cicero was pushing back at Lee, not appreciating the turn of events after being labeled a "sucker" by Lee only moments prior.

However, Mikey stepped back in, assuring Cicero it was "fine" that he wanted to mouth off - and Lee angrily repeated it. But he was far from being over; starting a new tangent, calling Mikey a loser. Then he started to throw the man's drug use in his face, telling Mikey to look through the fog and understand that there'd be consequences if he threw another fork.

It was quiet.

Nobody said a word as they all waited for Mikey's reaction. Carmen appeared on high alert, waiting for someone to make a move in case he had to jump in. Mikey asked Pete for his fork, picking it up, and creating a new tidal wave of voices all begging Michael not to do shit. To put the fork down. To not do a fucking thing. Over all the voices, it was Sugar's that cut above; reminding her brother she loved him, begging him not to do this.

Stevie giggled nervously, apologizing for it - claiming he giggled when uncomfortable. But Mikey encouraged him NOT to apologize, to fucking giggle and, "enjoy this," 'cause, "this is fun!"

You were so fucking nervous for whatever was to come.

Carmy's one arm was extended over you, the other crossed over his own body to hold your hand through the arm of the chair he sat in. Cicero tried to diffuse everything, Carmy's voice snapping support; but nothing was truly registering in Mikey's brain. In fact, he stood, and Lee flinched when he moved as if to throw the fork; guffawing at and mocking the man's reflexes. This only created an opening for Lee to, again, take shots at Mike's drug use; claiming his flinch was a reflex, something someone had when their nerve endings weren't fried - like a junkie's. Naturally, it caused an entirely new fight.

One where, during which, Mike brayed and screeched like an animal; and by the end, it was Lee telling Michael to throw the fucking fork so he had an excuse to rock his shit. At this point, you were ready to scream and support the violent display if just to get this over with. Lee snarled and repeated that Mikey was "nothing", and for a moment, you thought all hell was about to break loose.

Yet you wouldn't ever know. "There she is," Cicero clapped, directing the attention towards Donna as she entered at long last. You looked at Carmy and squeezed his hand, leaning in to quickly peck his lips in reassurance. The table clapped for their drunk host, watching her dance to her seat with a full glass of wine and burning cigarette; asking them all what she missed.

"I missed something," she grinned. "Peaches? What'd I miss?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh," you cleared your throat, "we were just discussing the tradition of the Feast of Seven Fishes."

"Boo," she pouted.

"Actually, Ma, Stevie, uh, Stevie was about to say grace," Mikey deflected.

"Not Peach, who studied religion?" Lee mocked.

"Oh, honey, that would be so cool," Donna nodded at you.

"I think I'd like to hear Stevie's prayer," you smiled, "but if he fucks it up, I'll take over."

Donna giggled before sniffling and composing herself while Michelle reassured her husband enough to encourage him to lead the family prayer. You half-listened, distracted by your boyfriend's body language. His hand still held yours, but now, he was sitting up with the other hand covering his mouth. The table was shockingly quiet as Stevie spoke, everyone listening; liking his impromptu speech about love, family, holidays, and bears.

By the end, everyone was softly complimenting the man; his wife hugging him; Mikey even voicing a compliment. However, you were distracted by Donna's reaction as she sniffled her tears, wiped her face, and took deep, dramatic sighs. Cicero laid his hand on her shoulder in comfort, but Donna picked up her cig and muttered, "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter."

"Oh, Donna," Michelle cooed.

"It doesn't," she whispered.

As the table took turns trying to assure Donna that everything was gorgeous, you noticed the rigid way Carmy sat. "Baby," you whispered, watching him glance at you before leaning back a bit and wrapping his arm around you in an effort to remain close. However, before anyone could do anything, Sugar was asking those two words that triggered her mother:

"You okay?"

"Oh, my God," a few people muttered softly, Carmy and Mikey looking the most distraught by her words. Your lips pursed in nerves, watching Donna like a ticking time bomb; Carmy's hand sweating, leaving you anxious.

"Oh, Natalie," Donna sneered, "Rose Berzatto, do you know how much I fucking hate when you ask me that?"

"Okay," Sugar whispered, bowing her head, averting her eyes.

"Do you know," Donna enunciated, "how much I fucking hate - "

"Let's go upstairs."

" - that you have to do that!"

"Okay," Sug whispered again.

"D-Do you ask the rest of these people if they're okay?"

"No."

"N - " Donna stuttered, revving up. "Do I not look okay, Natalie?"

"Not really," Michelle answered as if without thought she had verbalized it, shaking her head.

You wanted to step in, you did; you own mother was an unmedicated, raging narcissistic, bipolar maniac with a drinking problem. You knew how to handle people like this... But this wasn't your fight, this wasn't your family; you were a mere guest, there to support your boyfriend in any way you could.

Donna glared at Michelle as Sugar offered to go upstairs again. However, the matriarch snapped, "Oh, fuck you, Michelle."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Carmy tried to rein his mother in.

"I didn't mean it like - "

"Do I not look okay? Did I not just bust my ass all day for you motherfuckers!?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Michelle rushed, looking down - like the others.

"This!" Donna stood, both hands gesturing to the table, "Is beautiful! Am I okay!?" She whipped around to glare at her daughter. "Am I okay!?" And then... She glared at you, "Well, let's ask, are you okay, Peach? Huh? Are you okay not having family invite you around for the holidays so you come here to fill a void and overcompensate by inserting yourself where you're not even wanted?"

You froze, brows furrowing. What had you done to deserve this unprovoked attack? You were used to it from your own mother, but that was because you were her child and it was an easy attack. This, however, was someone without blood relation laying into you about some deeper-seeded insecurities. Sure, you missed your family, but they were wildly unpredictable, unsupportive, unwelcoming, judgmental, harsh, and constantly at your throat about things that they had no business having an opinion on in the first place. It was better you stayed away - something Carmy still had to reassure you about, so to hear his mother use it against you stung beyond words.

"Hey, hey, woah," Cicero tried, Mikey voicing his own displeasure, but Carmy's was the most prominent.

"Don't bring Peach into this, Ma, please - "

"Are you motherfuckers okay!?" Donna screeched, silencing them all. "Are you okay, Lee?" She mocked. "You didn't do shit! This is fucking gorgeous!" She glared around the table she had gestured at, then, picked up a plate as she roared, "FUCK!" Then she smashed the plate to the floor, "YOU!"

You didn't flinch when you heard the shatter, instead, reaching a hand up to hold Carmy's cheek and keep him turned from the sight. One of his hands held your elbow, a way he communicated to assure you that he liked your touch.

"Fuck you!" Donna directed at the table again. Then, she muttered and pointed at Sugar, "Fuck you." Donna made her exit, sobbing, "Fuck you, Natalie."

The door slammed and you were left in a tense, ear-ringing silence. Slowly, your hand drifted off Carmy's cheek to just sit in silence, both your hands holding his. Nobody was sure what to say, and frankly, nobody wanted to be the first who broke the silence...

Until Lee exhaled deeply and opened his mouth - like he was some prominent member of the family, "Well, I guess we all knew that was gonna happen. So it's out, and, uh, maybe everybody - everybody can relax, huh?"

Your head shook.

"Yeah, that's, uh... That's the worst I've ever seen her," Michelle noted.

You wanted to snap that the mentally ill deserved kindness and respect like every other person. Perhaps they require a different sort of understanding, but you know what? Humans are humans for many reasons, one being the ability to empathize, and it wouldn't kill them all to try and offer Donna more understanding.

Especially in times of high stress!

However, nobody got to comment because Mikey let his temper flare from Lee's words. He picked up Pete's fork and lobbed it at an unsuspecting Uncle Lee; the metal utensil clattering to the floor, making Lee immediately snap, "You fuckin' piece of shit!"

Mikey rose to meet the challenge, purposefully overturning the poker table used as an extension off the "main" table; sending everything shattering to the floor as the Fak Brothers had to hold either enraged man back. It was a frenzy: Mikey and Lee yelling, Brothers holding them back, Cicero, Michelle, and Steve standing to get away from the fight as Cousin Richie directed pregnant Tiff to go with Uncle Jimmy.

Carmy rose, too, but you shot out of your chair, pleading over the noise, "Don't, please, not you."

He sighed at you, remaining put as you watched the escalated fight wage in the dining room. Richie was caught in the middle, trying to retain space between the feuding men; but it was all so very surreal due to Mikey just literally screaming to make himself feel big, bad, and heard. All of a sudden, in the very next room, there came a distant scream before a fucking car came barreling through the living room wall.

You had flinched into Carmy out of shock, and for a moment, nobody even so much as fucking breathed. Mikey was the first, approaching the car and begging for his mother to open the door; asking her what she had done; to please open the fucking door. Sugar remained seated, rooted in her spor; Carmy only moving like a zombie to get a better look - not believing his eyes. Everyone else was in shock and you just felt something click into place in your heart, mind, and gut.

No, you mother had never driven a car through the house, but you weren't a stranger to dramatic displays.

"Okay, okay," you cleared your throat, slipping past Carmy to moved for Mikey. "Hey, hey, hey, hey," you caught hold of him, pulling him off the vehicle, "you need to step back, okay? I'm gonna get it open, I'll get her to a hospital."

"No cops," Richie snapped.

"No cops," you agreed, "hence why I'll take her."

Mikey only shuffled when you stepped up, picked up a brick from the rubble, and with pristine accuracy and strength, shattered the back, drivers side window. Moving swiftly, you reached around to unlock the driver's door - yelping when Donna literally bit you.

"Fuck's sake, stop biting!" You snapped, unlocking the door and wrenching your arm free as you opened the door at the same time. "Donna, hey, hey, hey," you knelt, "you hurt? Hey, Donna, it's Peach, c'mon, I need you to tell me if you're hurt!"

She only cackled manically as she tried to stave you off.

You steeled yourself and lifted up only to keep at a bend so you could scoop Donna out. She started thrashing and you had to set her down, groaning, letting Mikey step in.

"She needs to get checked out right now," you told him.

"C'mon," Jimmy agreed as he stepped up, "I'll drive."

Mikey nodded in agreement and carried his mother out of the house, allowing you to sit in the car and shut it off. When you stood and looked around, there was still a heavy air of shock. Glancing at the damage behind you, you figured maybe you could back the car out so you could start cleaning.

"Richie, why don't you take Tiff home, I'm sure she's exhausted," you recommended softly.

"Nah, I'll help clean," he told you.

"Sure?"

"Yeah," he sniffled.

"Mind helping me get the car, you know, out of the living room?"

"Tell me what to do, baby girl."

Richie drove as you sat passenger, directing him; the two of you working to get the car in reverse and out of the wall. You got out to direct him the rest of the way, and left the car in the garage. When you got back in, you noticed that Sugar and Carmy were both gone, and you went into what your boyfriend called "Mama Bear Mode."

Tiff was allowed to rest upstairs, Michelle and Stevie left, and the Fak's left to go get you tarps and other equipment from their house since all stores were closed. You went outside and fought the cold to grab a wheelbarrow from the community garden shed about half a block away, and bringing it to the hole. Richie grabbed some snow shovels and dust pans and brooms, and together, you got to work on cleaning. It took the better part of a 3ish hours, things going a little faster when the Faks returned; helping pick up, sweep, and dump the material out of the house. They brought ladders and huge tarps, getting up to the wall to start installing the material to prevent the horrendous draft sure to come in.

Several times, the boys told you to sit - but you couldn't. So, you worked. And when it was done, you let the men to sweep the remains as you noticed the dining room still in disarray. Any layers of clothing you wore were shed, hair pulled off your neck and away from your face; preparing for the longest clean-up job you'd know.

You stored all food, organized the dirty dishes with the ones in the kitchen still, then worked on clearing space. The table was freed and you took advantage to lay out some bath towels, then getting to work. The reason you had organized the dishes was because you could wash all plates and set them in the drying rack; when done, you'd use a separate towel to dry the dishes and stack them on the dining room table.

Same for all saucers, utensils, glasses - water cups, wine glasses, and anything someone used for a stronger liquor.

Your feet ached, back protested, ears rang with the aftermath of the night. Richie took Tiff home, the Faks heading out as well; leaving you alone in the Berzatto house with only Carmy and Sugar.

You still worked so they wouldn't have to later.

Dishes stacked on the table, your fingertips pruned from the water, the sink decently filthy from food-waste. You didn't notice the time had passed until a pair of arms came wrapping around your waist - making you jump from being startled. But the tattoos on the hand was enough to assure you the man's identity; lips finding purchase on the slope of your neck and shoulder.

"You don't have to do this," Carmy whispered.

"I'm almost done," you promised, setting another bowl to the rack. "Where you been?"

"With Sugar. She was pretty upset, so, Pete and I were with her."

You nodded, "Good. She okay now?"

"She's asleep."

"You should be, too."

"You know I don't like sleeping without you," he sighed, and you felt his frown. "I'm... I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"For us coming this year."

"I'm not," you promised. "It's okay, we'll take it in stride."

"It shouldn't be like this."

"No, it shouldn't. You deserve better, Carmy," you whispered, leaning back into his embrace - his arms tightening. "Heard from Mikey?"

"Yeah, he said the ER was still running a few tests," he sighed. "Might be another hour or more."

You nodded, "Gimme another few minutes and I'll be done."

"No, you won't," he chuckled. "Lemme help."

"Wanna dry?"

"Got me doin' dishes again, huh?" He smirked.

You matched it, "Take you back to the good ol' days?"

Carmy nodded, and for a few minutes, you worked in silence. It went smoother with help: you washing, him drying. When all was washed, you drained the sink with the garbage disposal, washed the basin out, and then started cleaning off the counters, stove, microwave, and any other appliance or surface Donna might've splattered on. Carmy noticed your system of dishes and did his best to match it, then mopping up the floor.

When you were both done, it was well past midnight and your adrenaline was waning. You eyed your boyfriend for a long moment, slowly approaching him after drying your hands; mimicking him from earlier and wrapping your arms around his middle. You felt Carmy give a long sigh, dropping one of his hands to hold yours on his stomach. "I love you," you reminded softly.

Carmy turned slowly, facing you with a soft, ginger expression. Both his hands rose to ghost over your cheeks, whispering, "I'm so fucking in-love with you."

Your smile was easy, "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

He smirked, placing his forehead to yours. "Things got a little crazy," he whispered, "but I'm really glad you were here with me."

"I promise you, Carmy, I don't want to be anywhere else."

He sighed, pulling away to admire you for a long moment. "Even when Ma attacks you outta nowhere?"

"Even then," you promised softly. "Carmy, you forget, I had a mother very similar. Our relationship won't ever be the same, but the times I was around her, it taught me to walk on eggshells around someone. You're not alone in this and I promise, it doesn't scare me."

"Scares me..."

You nodded, stepping into his embrace, "I know, baby, I know. I'm so sorry. It'll get better, y-you'll find ways to deal with it all. Okay? I'm here with you."

His arms tightened, muttering, "Don't leave me, too."

"Not even if you beat me off with a stick," you teased. "Do you wanna go to bed, Cream?"

"Please," he groaned.

"You go up, I'll be there soon."

"You're not comin' up with me?"

"I think someone should be up when they get home."

Carmy sighed, "Probably..."

"Go to sleep," you encouraged, "I'll be up when they get in. I'll make sure Donna gets to bed, all right?"

"Nah, nah, I'll wait with you. Lemme grab some pillows and shit for us."

You didn't stop him, knowing you couldn't even if you tried. So after doing one last loop around the house, cleaning whatever needed it, you met Carmy in the second sitting room (the one Donna didn't drive into). He had a couple of pillows down and a comforter, changed into a pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank top. "Give me a minute to get changed," you whispered against his lips, hearing him hum in agreement.

You brought an overnight bag in case you were too tired to drive, now grateful for being "over prepared".

When you were matching in loungewear, you crashed on the couch with Carmy under a cushioned blanket. He was laid down the expense of the couch, you nestled between him and the back cushions. "How'd you do it?" He mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Deal with your ma?"

"Put a lot of distance between us, enforced boundaries even if it made me the bad guy. Started therapy, read a lor of self-help books. All in all, I learned she was abusive in a different way and it affects me and all my relationships."

He sighed, "Think i gotta do the same."

"What's that?"

"Create distance... Think New York's far enough?"

"It'll have to be," you mused, snuggling close as Carmy picked up with phone. He mindlessly scrolled through his social media, you watching; the exhaustion catching up to you both, making you start to doze, but abruptly woke up when the front door burst open.

"I got her," Mikey waved you both off as you tried to yank off the tangle of blanket, assisting his drugged-up mother to her room after kicking the door shut.

When he returned, you and Carmy were sat up in interest. He sighed and tapped a cigarette from the carton, telling you both, "She's okay, minor concussion and shit... Nothing we can't handle, right? I'll be back." He excused himself out the front door.

You spared Carmy a look, frowning when those wide, baby blues locked with yours. "She's okay," you reminded softly, "and I'm here with you." You saw the fear flash in his eyes. "Carmy, you're not like anyone in your family - you're not like anyone I've ever known. You won't end up like them, you're not gonna slip off the deep end 'cause of their curse. It's sink or swim, and fuck's sake, I've got an extra life preserver, okay?"

He smirked, "What would I do without you or your analogies?"

"Get really boring advice," you teased, letting him kiss you. When you pulled back, you whispered, "She won't ruin you. I won't let anything tear you down."

He paused for a long while, nodding, "Think we should go to New York, then."

"I think so, too. You can't linger here, Carmy, or else you're going down with them all and I can't do anything to help. If we stay here, Cream, I'm afraid for what it'll do to us, and if you stay with your family, there's no telling what they'll do or make you feel." You told him softly, "Don't let them step in the way of what you want, Carmy. Don't let them dictate your life anymore than they do. You deserve a life, you deserve to live away from this toxic bullshit - to truly find and establish yourself without their extra dead weight."

He nodded sadly, wiping a hand down his face.

His eyes bulged naturally, and now, you could see clearly the red tinge from repressed tears and the swollen, blotchy skin from him rubbing so frequently.

"Carmy?" You waited until his eyes met yours. "Just because they're your family doesn't mean you're gonna end up like them. You're aware of the stress, turmoil, and abuse that's generated, and with this knowledge comes the ability to break cycles. Baby," you whispered, resting your foreheads together, "you are not the same, you can always choose to do better... To be better... To recognize slippery slopes and pull yourself back. They're your blood, yes, but that doesn't automatically mean you guys are the same now - or that you'll become like them in the future. You're different, Carmy... You're so different, you're going to do amazing things - they'll all see. And one day, I'll tell you, 'Told you so,' but it can all start today, if you want."

"You're right," he agreed, sighing deeply as he pulled away from you. "I do want that - I want us to get away and go live. We'll go..." He nodded in assurance, sniffling before pecking your forehead, "We'll go to New York and get the fuck away from this bullshit. It's not healthy, can't sustain ourselves here."

"For the time being," you corrected, "because never say never when thinking of returning home. But we've still got a lot of life to live before we settle down, right?"

"Right," he whispered, staring at you like you hung the moon and stars. "What would I do without you, Peach?"

"I imagine you'd be bored as hell," you teased, pecking his lips.

When Mikey returned, he found Carmy sprawled out on the couch with his arms tightly caging you to his chest; both looking utterly exhausted from the hectic holiday. He almost felt guilt for the rush to his blood from the drugs he used outside, knowing neither of you would be proud of him, and seeing you both look so at-peace solidified in his mind that he wouldn't burden either of you with his woes. So he vacated the front lobby just as your head lifted in confusion - feeling as if you had been watched and waking up.

However, when your burning-for-sleep eyes didn't see anyone, you settled back against Carmy.

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myownwholewildworld · 5 months ago

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wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 5

chapter 4 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 6

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after what happened a couple of months ago, you are ready to move forward. joel? not so much. he might need a little... prodding.

warnings: 18+, mdni. internal and verbal discussions of feelings, trauma and past relationships. some jealousy (if you squint very hard). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). again, absolutely filthy smut because i don’t know any better (sorry not sorry). fluff. voyeurism (you spy on joel). masturbation (f and m). oral (f and m receiving). finger sucking. unprotected piv. praise kink. sir kink. size kink. cum eating. a bit of cum play. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. squirting. dirty talk. you are very needy in this one and joel is very possessive over you. soft!dom!joel. aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, honey). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n. joel’s and reader’s pov.

a/n: hiya! first i want to thank you all for the positive feedback this series has gotten! [: i started writing this for myself mainly, and decided to post it here thinking that if a couple of people liked it, it'd make my heart happy. also, i have taken some licenses with joel's past, as neither the game nor the tv show gives many details (you'll understand what i mean). anyways! after the last chapter, our two protagonists (you!) deserve a bit of calm, peace and quiet... right? 😈 as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests/side stories if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

w/c: ~6.3k (sorry?).

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

August came around relatively quickly. Tommy had proposed you got closer to civilisation, which meant long trekking trips while the sunlight was still up. Joel agreed reluctantly, as he still thought that was dangerous. You just went along with it, letting them decide ― you didn’t really care where you ended up as long as the Millers were by your side.

Well, one of them especially.

At daytime you barely had time to yourself. However, the story was completely different at nighttime. The second you closed your eyes, snippets of what had happened two months ago flooded your memory. For the first few weeks, the nightmares were unbearable. You would wake up in the dead of night, sweaty and shaking.

And every time you woke up, Joel was by your side. He would hug you while you both laid on improvised beds, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Neither of you would talk, you would just cry in silence while your panic attack subsided ― Joel holding you throughout the whole episode. He had truly been a rock you could hold onto in the middle of a sea storm.

It got to the point where Tommy had started to realise that something was up between you two. Neither you nor Joel denied nor confirmed anything, although Tommy never asked. He would just look away when his brother would attend to you if you fell behind or would offer to do the first night shifts so Joel could be by your side at bedtime.

You were somewhat sure that Joel really cared about you. The way he would look at you… it sent shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes was hypnotising ― sometimes you would find yourself lost in his brown orbs, unable to look away. You also really cared about him.

You didn’t want to put a label to your feelings, mainly because you were not sure how Joel would react. You had come to understand that the man was prone to evade any topic about his feelings in general ― physical, emotional or otherwise. You could still not get him to tell you whenever he felt off. Since the blow to his head a couple of months back, Joel had been suffering with horrible headaches, to the point where he had fainted in a couple of instances.

The man was such a closed book you found out about his deceased wife the same way you knew about Sarah ― through Tommy. You assumed he had one or at least a partner at some point in time before the outbreak. The younger brother didn’t give you many details though, not that you asked either ― some wounds were better left untouched.

You liked Tommy a lot. He was a godsend ― so very different to Joel, but so similar in many ways. He was talkative and filled in long silences with stories about how they would cause mayhem at home when they were kids. You didn’t know if they were true or not, but they were entertaining nonetheless. You were under the impression that Tommy was the one who got into sticky situations and Joel was the one who had to fix them.

“I’m gonna go to the lake for a bit”, Joel told you, derailing your train of thought.

“No worries, I’ll get the fire going. Poor Tommy is always the one setting up camp”, you replied with a slight smile.

“Yeah, poor me, relegated to such unsignificant tasks”, said Tommy with a chuckle.

You smiled back and then looked in Joel’s direction. He was frowning at both of you, but quickly controlled his face expression.

“I’ll be back soon”, Joel crouched to look through his backpack, grabbing a couple of towels.

Something inside of you twisted. But you pushed the thought to the back of your head. You had already volunteered to start the fire.

You really tried to focus on the bonfire. And after a few attempts, you finally got it going. Joel had not come back yet from the lake ― it had only been ten minutes, but you were slightly worried in case he had lost consciousness again while no one was around.

“I’ll go check on him”, you told Tommy.

He looked at you with a sarcastic smile.

“Sure thing”, he replied while he started to skin a rabbit.

You rolled your eyes before you left in the direction Joel had gone.

You walked the hundred metres that separated the camp and the lake. The brothers had ensured the area was completely devoid of human existence before they decided to settle there for the night. You were now in Mark Twain National Forest, near St. Louis. You had checked out Kansas City a week ago, but both Tommy and Joel had deemed it too unsafe. So Chicago was your final destination. None of you knew what you would encounter there, but it was worth a try. The wilderness had not proven to be any safer.

Before you got to the bank of the lake, you spotted Joel in the water. He had his back towards you, your eager eyes checking out his broad shoulders, the water level up to his hips. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back.

You stopped walking, somewhat mesmerised, your head slightly tilted to one side with curiosity. In the last two months, you had discovered a new side to Joel you didn’t know he had.

You guessed that what happened that night also affected him in a different way it did you. After he almost decapitated that man, you saw guilt in his eyes when he looked at you ― you still sometimes caught a glimpse of it to this day. As you found out later, that culpability was because he felt responsible for what those men did to you ― he really thought he could have done more. And he did in a sense, because for the next couple of days he hunted down every man in that group until there was no one left to hurt you. Apparently, that was not enough in his eyes, although it was in yours. But as much as you tried to explain that to him, it just wouldn’t sink in. He was so stubborn it made you go crazy sometimes.

Although Joel had been there for you emotionally, he had not touched you for the last two months. You managed to steal a few kisses from him and that was it. He had been extremely cautious with you in that respect. You were relieved he was as you tried to come to terms with what had happened, but after a few weeks it started to feel… frustrating. You were not broken and despite what he thought, you still had needs.

He suddenly looked over his right shoulder, offering you his side profile ― to you, he was gorgeous. Feeling like a child caught causing mischief, you quickly hid behind a tree. Joel looked around, eyebrows touching in confusion, but then he shook his head as if he was imagining things and proceeded to cup his hands in the water to wet his face.

You couldn’t not watch. You instantly realised that was the first time you saw him naked. The last ―and, regrettably, the only― time you two had sex, he was fully clothed. There was something very intimate about seeing him washing up.

You were so transfixed on the picture in front of you it was like the world had disappeared around you. Joel rubbed his skin with a hand towel ― his strong arms, his chest, his back, his lower stomach… Your breath quickened a bit, your heart picking up a pace. Everything about him invited you in ― it wasn’t only his rugged appearance that appealed to you, but also his character.

You started to feel hot. Had the temperature suddenly gone up? It seemed like it. Joel put the hand towel on his left shoulder. When you saw his right hand disappear below the water in front of him, your mouth went dry wishing it was your hand. You wanted to help him clean his manhood so badly ― memories of his delightful cock rocking you into a trance short-circuited your brain.

Before you could stop yourself, you placed one hand on your belly, biting your bottom lip. You finally gave in to temptation, pushing past the edge of your panties. You dipped two fingers in your slit, doing circular movements around your clit. Your eyes, albeit halfway closed in pleasure, could not leave Joel as he kept on freshening up. You pushed down your fingers a bit more, sliding one of them in your needy hole.

You closed your eyes, a half-smile showing on the corner of your lips. That felt so good. If Joel was going to do nothing about it ― fine, you would. Still behind the tree, out of sight, you held on to the bark with your free hand, upping the rhythm of your wet fingers, your thumb rubbing that tight knot in your fold. Then you slightly opened your eyes again ― you wanted to stare at Joel while you came.

But he wasn’t there anymore. You frowned, confused, but you were too busy to worry about that right now. So you closed your eyes again to fully focus on the task at hand. You leaned your forehead against the tree, feeling your orgasm wash over you with intensity. You pressed your lips, suppressing a moan as to not alert Joel of your presence.

“Am I interrupting?”, his soft voice forced you to glance in his direction with starry eyes.

He was on your righthand side, just half a metre away from you. Entirely naked in all his glory, an erection creeping up on him. You were speechless, partially because you had been caught spying on him and partially because you were still feeling the last remnants of your climax, your inner walls crying for something to choke.

“I―I…”, you really tried to excuse yourself, but your voice faltered when your eyes checked him out from top to bottom.

His body was chiselled, his muscles somewhat defined, especially around his waist. He had a pronounced V line with a hairy, happy trail which you avidly followed with your eyes until you were gifted with the sight of his veiny cock. You unconsciously licked your bottom lip.

Your fingers were still dunked in your warm pussy. Joel grabbed your wrist and took your hand out of your underwear, raising it to eye level. Your digits were sticky, covered in your own cum. You should feel ashamed, but you definitely didn’t. Not with him. Joel looked into your eyes, and, without breaking visual contact, he brought your slick fingers closer to his face. With no hesitation, he opened his mouth and pushed them into it, licking them clean. You felt your cunt gushing, eyelids half closed. You could have easily come again for him, but he released your fingers far too quickly for your liking.

“You naughty girl”, he whispered as he pulled you from the wrist to get you closer to his chest. “You taste even better than what I imagined”.

“I didn’t think you were…”

“Aware of your presence? Always, darlin’”, he finished for you.

Your cheeks blushed when he freed your wrist and lifted your chin up. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, his mouth just an inch away from yours. You bowed to kiss him, but he backed up a little, denying you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”, he asked, you could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

You nodded vehemently.

“Yes, please, Joel, I really need to feel you, to have you fuck me senseless”, you emphasized, short-breathed.

He seemed to consider your words for longer than what was acceptable. You saw his eyes flying between yours and your lips.

“Please?”, you begged.

Your prayers might have been heard, because he leaned forward, brushing your mouth with his.

“Then go down on your knees, darlin’”, he whispered against your lips.

You silently gasped as your clit pulsed at his words. You were delighted to follow his command, and so you kneeled compliantly.

When your knees touched the grass, his cock was at eye level. You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. His dick was as big as you remembered, the memory of it filling you up still haunted you. It was so erected now that the tip touched his belly button. Joel looked so strained you thought he had to be in pain. And you were more than willing to help him alleviate it.

You moved your hand forward, but before you could try to wrap your fingers around him, Joel stopped you.

“No, with your mouth”, was his order.

You intertwined your fingers on your lower back and inclined your heard towards him. You gazed up at him, his jawline very tense. You let your tongue out and shyly tapped his glans with the tip. Joel closed his eyes immediately and grumbled loudly as his cock twitched in front of you.

That was all you needed to spur you on. You widely opened your mouth to house his manhood and sealed your lips around the head, the tip of your tongue trying to push open the slit on his foreskin. You played with him for a bit while your jaw relaxed. Then you started to push him in further and further down your mouth, as far as you could take him. His glans pushed past your uvula, you could barely breathe, just as you had imagined a few months ago ― a dream come true. You bobbed your head back and forth, feeling him in your throat, your eyes watering. But you were still not close to have his dick entirely in your mouth ― he was so damn big.

Joel growled in ecstasy as he looked down to you. The sight of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed, bright beautiful eyes, your tongue maliciously inciting him… He just couldn’t believe how giving you were.

“Look at you with your mouth so full”, he said placing one of his hands under your chin. He could feel his own cock expanding your throat. “You look so damn pretty, baby”.

You leaned back a bit, releasing most of his erection except for the tip. With the help of one hand you started pumping his shaft, the other gently massaging his balls. Joel eyed you intensely while you ate him up like a lollypop. His salty flavour inundated all your senses, your eyes pinned on his.

His fingers clenched in frustration.

“Shit, stop, I’m gonna come”, he mumbled as he pushed back to free his dick from your wicked lips.

No way in hell, you thought. He was not about to deny you that. You had been thinking about this moment for fucking months, you wouldn’t let him take that pleasure away from you.

You grasped him by his ass, your palms firmly pressing on his buttocks to take his cock even deeper. You then gave him head as best as you knew how, fastening the rhythm when you felt the pulsation coming from him.

“Fuck, baby―”, he moaned your name as he came in your hot, wet cavity.

You felt his spent hit the back of your throat. It was so tangy and musky. You swallowed all of it. Ah, delicious, you thought gleefully. You let go of his ass and released his dick from the prison of your lips.

You placed the palms of your hands on your knees, still on the ground, and glanced up at him innocently with a sweet smile painting your face. You then opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show Joel you had eaten all his cum ― a bridge of spit connecting the tip of your tongue to his glans.

He dropped one hand to break off the arch of saliva between you and him with his index, and fed it to you ― you gladly accepted, sucking his finger clean.

“Did I do good, sir?”, you asked with a small voice, looking for praise.

“Good? You did fucking splendid, sweetheart”, you beamed with the compliment and got up to your feet when he offered you a hand.

He took your hand, walking behind him as he headed towards the lake. He turned around to face you and kissed you slowly, his tongue caressing your palate. He then took a step back. The sun was setting on his back, the orange and red lighting reflecting off the waterbed. His brown eyes, bearded jaw, hooked nose, his hair curling at the nape of his neck… He looked like a roman God ― Mars, you thought. Joel looked like a man about to fight for his life and yours on the battlefield.

He sat down on a massive flat rock one metre away from the bank of the lake, which was approximately two metres wide in both directions.

“Now undress for me, baby”, he instructed.

You did not hesitate ― all your clothing fell to your feet, piece by piece, while Joel eagerly watched the show you put on. He wetted his bottom lip while he readjusted his cock on his lap. You stood there with dreamy eyes, awaiting. He motioned one hand towards the rock he was sat on, an invitation for you to join him.

Once you were sat on his right, he placed his left hand around the front of your neck ― a very slight touch that forced you to flatten your back against the rock while he positioned himself on top of you. He bit your chin while his left hand put a sweet amount of pressure on your throat. You could tell he was controlling himself.

“My turn”, he whispered, coming off you.

He got off the rock, kneeling on the ground in front of you. You put your elbows down on the rock to lift your torso and be able to look at him, your knees bent, the sole of your feet against the cold surface of the rocky platform. Joel grabbed you by the hips and scooted your ass over to the edge of the rock. Your legs were firmly pressed against each other, trying to hide your quivering cunt ― suddenly you felt shy.

“Spread your legs open for me, darlin’, lemme see”, he commended you with his hands on your knees.

You couldn’t say no to him, you didn’t want to. So you obeyed, dropping your legs to the sides, offering him your dripping fold. He traced your slit with his index, and you moaned.

“You’re so fucking wet already. So receptive, aren’t you?”, he asked looking at you dead in the eye, his finger sinking in between your legs, looking for the entrance. “Who gets your pussy so wet?”, he pushed his fingertip in your hole, and you groaned loudly. “Who, darlin’? Use your words”.

“You, only you, sir”, you gasped.

“This is mine”. He pushed in the second phalange.

You closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing.

“All yours, yes”.

His finger got completely sucked in down to his knuckle, stroking your g-spot. You harshly pressed your lips.

“Exactly, don’t you dare forget that”, his tone was so serious you looked at him enigmatically, not really understanding where that sudden possessiveness came from, but you loved every bit of it. And you were more than happy to put his doubts to rest.

You nodded frantically.

“I would never, sir, I swear my pussy is all yours”, you really meant it.

“As it should be”, he added a second finger as he leaned forward and kissed your mound.

You sighed, eyes teary, and flattened your back against the rock again, as Joel made out with the fatty skin above your clit. He introduced a third finger, all of them rubbing your anterior wall. Then his mouth dropped and sucked in your clit. Your knees trembled while you held both of your breasts, playing with your nipples and biting down your lip to stop your wanton screams. He insisted with his kissing until your wet cunt started fluttering around his fingers, a clear tell you were about to come. He stroked your clit with his teeth, very lightly, sending shivers up your spine. Your legs pressed against his head, tension building up. And then, finally, sweet release. You came so hard on his mouth, and he drank it all.

He unburied his head from in between your legs and glanced at you with a sufficient smile.

“You taste even better directly from your creamy cunt, baby”, you were glad he was so talkative during sex, especially if it was to praise you.

Joel placed the palm of his hand over your mound, his fingers covering your damp pussy, and rubbed with just the right amount of friction. You exhaled slowly.

“I’m gonna make you come again”, he promised.

You pursed your lips, your cunt palpitating at the prospect.

“I don’t know if I can―”, you uttered under your breath.

He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was offended. Joel grabbed your thighs and pulled towards him; the back of your knees placed on his shoulders.

“Don’t doubt me, of course you can. I said I’ll make you”, his mouth was so close to your moist pussy you felt his cool breath on your damp skin.

You whimpered when his tongue swept your entire slit unhurriedly, from your perineum to your clit, his hand climbing up your body to squeeze one of your breasts firmly. Joel repeated that move a few times ― and your brain chemistry would be changed forever after that. He briefly pinched your nipple while he paid special attention to the core of your pleasure. Joel smothered your clit with his lips ― you closed your eyes while placing a hand over his on your boob.

Joel’s tongue stopped torturing you for a second. He nudged your clit with the tip of his hooked nose and then inhaled your sweet smell. That scent was making him go wild with lust to the point where he started fisting his cock, the tip already leaking with precum. He flattened his tongue against your swollen lips, wiggling it through the slit to touch your needy hole. He could not believe you were this wet for him ― if he had the chance, he would drink from your seeping fold every single day. This was how ambrosia tasted like ― he was damn sure of it.

He placed his hands to each side of your puffy flaps to spread your pussy open, while the tip of his tongue slipped inside of you. Your free hand flew to his head, fisting a handful of hair. Your toes clenched as he started to fuck your hole with his tongue. You felt your whole uterus contracting so hard it was almost painful. Your cum started to ooze out as a new orgasm hit you with full force, yelling his name. Joel did not waste any of it, licking it off you shamelessly.

What just happened ― that felt like sin, the most beautiful sin you had ever experienced. Your breathing was so irregular you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then you heard Joel snickering as he got back up to his feet.

“See? Told ya”, he said smugly as you placed the elbows on the rock to lift your chest and glance at him.

He was jerking off, his cock ready for you again. You sat back up and leaned forward, your hands on his muscular thighs as you kissed the slippery tip, the shaft, then his balls. You showered pecks all over his manhood, worshipping it.

“S-sorry, sir, can I ask? Is your cock only mine? P-please?”, you asked in between smooches, almost panting, looking at him with puppy eyes.

Joel’s irises were swirling with desire, his hips slightly slanted forward towards your mouth, his dick visibly spasming while he caressed your cheek.

“All yours, yes”, he replicated your exact words, your heart fluttering with contempt.

You smiled at him before licking his testicles again ― your hand pushing his shaft against his lower belly to give you better access. Your eyes never abandoned his as your saliva covered his soft ball sacks.

This time he did step back, and you let him.

“I need you inside me, please”, you murmured.

His jaw was so tight he didn’t dare to speak. Joel could feel his heartbeat on his cock, all because of you and your wanton mouth. You looked so damn beautiful ― on your knees, staring at him through your eyelashes, patiently waiting. He knew you very well by now, fully conscious that as sweet as you were acting now, that was it ― an act. And he loved every bit of it. He liked the way you replied to him when sex wasn’t involved, taking no shit from anyone, your snarky remarks driving him crazy.

Joel sat down on the rock and motioned for you to join him on his lap. You joyfully obliged, sitting atop of him. Your knees to each side of his waist, your bust against his, skin to skin. Your nipples grazed his chest, becoming harder at the electric contact. He cupped both of your boobs and pushed them up, so he could kiss them tenderly. You sighed, your mouth against his ear. Still holding your breasts, he unattached his lips from your nipples to peck your chin.

“Fuck me, darlin’”.

You looked down between you two. His erection was so prominent you knew it was hurting him. And you could ease that pain for him. Heaving, you lifted your hips up and grabbed his dick. It was hard but soft at the same time, velvety, very warm and beating. So sensitive to the touch he groaned ― music to your ears. You hugged his neck with your free arm as you guided his tip to your leaking entrance.

With a sudden drop of your hips, you impaled yourself harshly ― his bollocks kissing your tumid lips. You circled your hips against his, very slowly, which made you both moan in unison. Then you raised your body, his cock slipping out completely. Holding him from the base, you came down on him sharply again.

Joel was close to losing his mind. If you did that one more time, he wasn’t going to be able to hold it for much longer. You seemed to understand that, because you started to rock your hips back and forth, up and down. He kneaded your ass, feeling your rhythm, spurring you on. His fingers squeezed the skin under them while he kissed your collarbone. His mind was completely blank ― he could only focus on your sweet pussy hugging him, choking him. His dick felt so wet, so hot, throbbing for release… You kept on riding him, your movements growing erratic as you both were close to climax.

You surrounded Joel’s neck with both arms, pressing your breasts against his handsome face, your hips flushed with his, as your cunt angrily convulsed around his erection in blissful liberation. Joel held it together while you recovered, his hands still on your ass cheeks, fingers so clutched they were close to dislocating.

“Baby, if you don’t get off, I’m―”, pain smeared his tone. He was really fighting for his life right there and then.

“Oh, sorry”, you said with a small voice, still feeling your own pleasure. You elevated your hips, so his manhood popped out with a squelching sound.

You were not going to leave him hanging, obviously. So you kneeled before him, in between his strong legs, and kissed his tip. Joel sighed loudly when you closed off your lips around him for the second time today and pumped his shaft fast and strong, milking him dry. A minute later, your throat was clogged with his spent. A drop of it trickled down the corner of your mouth.

Joel leaned forward and caught the cum off the corner of your mouth with his thumb before rubbing it on your lips. Then he kissed you wetly, devouring you. He could never have enough of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you whispered with a smile when he was done assaulting your mouth.

He just smiled back. A genuine smile, the first you had seen from him. It tugged at your heart a little.

You were still feeling restless. Although you had orgasmed four times already, your pussy lips were so inflamed you thought you were on your way down to hell. Still on your knees in front of him, you softly massaged your sensitive clit. It was burning ― you suppressed a sob as you glanced up at him, lips slightly parted.

“What is it? Is your tight pussy still gushing, sweetheart?”, he asked you, cupping your chin.

You nodded, tears of frustration blurring your vision.

“I need more, I can’t ― my pussy is on fire, sir”, you muttered, feeling sorry for yourself. You were in a heightened state of sensory overload.

“Let me help you with that then”, you almost cried of relief at his words.

You quickly got up and kneeled on top of his lap again. He slipped a hand in between your bodies to caress your core. Your flesh trembled at the touch. Suddenly you realised you desperately needed to find your own rhythm ― you didn’t have to communicate it, Joel understood it in a second. He stopped and let you do what you had to do. You placed the palm of your hands on his shoulders and started rubbing your pussy against the side of his still hand. You slid your cunt further up to his elbow, and then returned back to his wrist. Your clit greedily welcomed the tingling sensation of the hair on his forearm against your wet slit.

You kept on rocking your hips back and forth on his forearm, pressing hard against it, sliding, rubbing and causing as much friction as you could, the heat in your belly flowing down to your crotch. You buried your fingers in his wet hair and tilted his head backwards so you could rest your forehead against his. Your inner walls contracted extremely hard and then you let go, squirting plentifully for a few never-ending seconds on Joel’s forearm. Your overstimulated cunt was leaking on top of him as if someone had opened the tap of your pleasure and couldn’t close it. When the last wave of your climax abandoned you, you looked down to see how it all trickled down from his forearm onto his lap.

You closed your eyes, content, when he gently tapped your pussy a few times. You breathed in deeply, feeling completely satisfied, finally at peace. Then you pecked his lips with gratitude.

“Better now, baby?”.

“Yes, infinitely better. I―I’m sorry I made a mess”.

“Don’t you apologise for that”.

You both remained in that position for a few minutes ― his now relaxed, wet cock warmly lodged between the flaps of your still dribbling cunt. He hugged your waist to bring you closer to him, his mouth brushing yours in a moment of calmness you had not experienced with him yet.

When his lips released yours, you placed your cheek against his right shoulder, your fingertips tracing the scar on it. Silence ensued, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

As much as you fought against yourself, you had feelings for Joel. Although you probably didn’t know all his faces, you knew enough about him to love him. The way he would have you on your tiptoes with his sarcastic comments, his bluntness, his rudeness, the way he would snap back at you when you pressed his buttons ― but also his kindness, his caring side, his softness, how he worried about you making sure you were okay, his demanding sexual needs, the way he made you feel when his hands mapped out your skin.

But you were not sure what he thought about all of this. In some respects, his mind was inscrutable. It was part of his charming personality, you guessed. You kissed the scar on his shoulder as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love how you smell”, he murmured.

“Is that the only thing you love about me?”, you couldn’t resist, the words just slipped out of your mouth. You wished you could take them back, but it was too late for that.

Joel slightly froze in place at your question. He couldn’t deny that he had started to develop feelings for you. The way you looked at him made him want to be a better person. Although you drove him crazy sometimes, you made his days bearable, a shining beautiful light amongst so much darkness. You were his lighthouse, guiding him to shore. He just needed to learn how to surf through the violent waves before he could safely approach the coast.

Knowing how close he had been to losing you had opened his eyes to a new, unknown reality. He would literally kill for you if he had to ― he had already done it and would do it all over again without blinking. No regrets whatsoever.

But he had some unresolved trust issues when it came to romantic relationships. Joel married Sarah’s mother, Charlotte, when they were both twenty-one years old, as soon as they knew they were expecting. The first two years were very hard on them both, parenthood was not a piece of cake. Resentment had grown between them, to the point where Charlotte had accused him of robbing her of her fun years, which led her to cheat on him. They tried to salvage their marriage for the sake of Sarah, but they never did ― Charlotte died in a car accident while on a heated, angry phone call with Joel.

He locked away those thoughts ― it wasn’t the time nor the place to dwell on the past. Not when he had you with him.

“I… well, no. I love everything about you, sweetheart”, he conceded.

Your heart skipped a beat with joy. No, it wasn’t a love confession, but it was much more than what you were expecting of him. You turned your face against his neck and placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“C’mon, let’s freshen up, I want to clean my mess off you, I do feel a bit bad”, you said with a chuckle.

You got off his lap, the cool breeze touching your sweaty skin. You offered him a hand, which he took, standing up behind you. Without letting go of his fingers interlaced with yours, you guided him to the water. It was cold, but you ventured inside with Joel following you. When the level was up to your waist, you turned around in Joel’s embrace.

You proceeded to wash off your cum and his off his cock, his lap, his forearm. When you were done, he kissed the top of your head. His left hand did the same to you, his fingers caressing your pussy, cleaning the proof of your shared pleasure. He did so not in a sexual way, but in a caring, intimate way. A minute later, you both disappeared beneath the water to emerge a second later, to wash off all the sweat. You found yourself in his arms again, your cheek against his chest ― you could hear his heart beating loudly but steadily.

“Joel, I―”, you didn’t know where to start. There were thoughts you had been wanting to put into words for a while now. “What happened to me sucks and I still die a bit inside when the memories come back at night. But none of it was your fault, nor mine. I do not want those bastards to win, to ruin my life. And my life with you. And I know it will take time to heal that part of me, or maybe it will never heal, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. I want you so badly, Joel, but what I do not want is you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not broken, I want to move forward, not get stuck in the past. Do you understand what I mean?”, you asked, your cheek still against his chest, looking up at him.

His eyes were focused on yours. His heart shrunk a bit, sharing your pain. If he could, he would take it away, all of it ― the fear, the panic attacks, the agony, the memories, the nightmares. But he couldn’t change the past. So, he nodded.

“I do, honey”, he whispered as he bowed down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You both stood there for a few more minutes, hugging each other in silence. Then Joel grumpily ended the embrace.

“We should get back, Tommy is going to kill us”.

You laughed because it was so true. You both got out of the lake, towelled down and got dressed. You started walking towards the campsite besides him ― your hand in his, fingers entangled. When you saw the tent and Tommy’s outline against the fire, you got ready to release his hand. But he didn’t let go when Tommy turned around to look at both of you.

You tried to hide a soft smile ― and failed.

The younger Miller noticed you holding hands but made no comment about it. But he did smile. A very wide smile.

“Well, about damn time, dinner is almost ready”, he said with amusement, pointing to the rabbit impaled with a stick roasting on top of the fire. “If you took any longer, the rabbit was going to come back to life and run away”.

“Always so theatrical, Tommy”, you chuckled.

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lune-moon-nuit · 19 days ago

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Thoughts about Mike I had last week while watching the middle of season 4

While watching Season 4 last week (yes, I’m extremely late to the party), I’m truly astonished at how misunderstood Mike is by much of the fandom and the general audience. It’s clear that Mike from Seasons 3 and 4 often comes across as an awkward idiot who can hurt others with his words or actions—particularly Will and El. This starkly contrasts with how he behaved in Seasons 1 and 2. However, it seems people overlook an important factor: Mike is now a teenager. A teenager who already carries a significant amount of trauma yet isn’t in a position to complain, because he has always been the friend or boyfriend supporting the “main victim” of the story.

Mike was traumatized by Will’s disappearance, by the abnormal events and creatures that turned their lives and town upside down. He has witnessed countless deaths—just in the episode I recently finished in Season 4, he literally watched a government agent die right in front of him after barely surviving a shootout, and he even helped bury the body himself alongside Jonathan, Will and Argyle. Let’s not forget that Mike has also come close to death multiple times. The list of what he’s endured is long. Yet through all of it, he was just a child, then a teenager.

While it’s true he’s sometimes hurtful or clumsy in his behavior toward El—primarily out of awkwardness—people forget that this is his first romantic relationship. And not just any relationship: one forged under extraordinary circumstances. El herself couldn’t initially distinguish between familial love and romantic love, and Mike was subtly pushed into seeing El romantically, thanks to a heteronormative society and remarks like Lucas’s, which suggested a boy taking care of a girl must mean he “likes” her. After all, in such an environment, a boy and girl can’t just share a bond of care without romantic undertones.

Another critical detail the fandom seems to overlook relates to Will. In Season 1, at just 10 to 12 years old, Mike had suicidal thoughts. He literally jumped off a cliff, unaware that El would use her powers to save him. He had no idea. He made a deliberate choice to jump, hiding behind the bully’s threat toward Dustin. But let’s be honest—anyone with a natural survival instinct wouldn’t so easily choose to leap to their death, even under pressure. Mike knew he had no chance of surviving that fall. It was deliberate.

So we must ask: What drives a 12-year-old boy to feel so hopeless, despite having friends and a family who love him? By now, we know that Mike, alongside Will, was a target of relentless bullying, much of it homophobic. Even Mike’s father made homophobic remarks in Season 1, adding pressure that Mike likely didn’t fully comprehend. At the cliffside, hope for finding Will alive was nearly gone. Mike had lost all hope. I genuinely believe that for him to have reached that point, the weight of his struggles was far heavier than we realized.

Mike has suffered immensely. He was already dealing with significant psychological distress in Season 1, which continued to accumulate. In Season 1, his focus was on finding Will. In Season 2, it was on protecting and saving Will. In Season 3, he acted like a “normal” teenager, but he was still targeted—being threatened violently by an adult who lashed out simply because Mike was behaving like any other boyfriend with El. Instead of questioning the why behind his actions, people just blamed him. In Season 4, rather than asking why Mike struggles to express his love for El, the audience blames him for supposedly not loving her enough.

But if Mike is confused—if he struggles to articulate his feelings—why is that? Mike has always been the devoted friend and boyfriend, but the series rarely highlights the immense psychological toll this has taken on him. His reactions, in truth, are quite logical and normal. Especially when you consider the more-than-plausible theory that Mike is either bisexual or homosexual. His internalized homophobia, combined with societal pressure in the 1980s, the fear of judgment, the fear of himself, and his confusion about his own feelings, all align perfectly with his behavior in Seasons 3 and 4. After all, adolescence is when most people begin to explore their sexual identity, desire, and emotions.

Take his words to Will, where he mentions their meeting in kindergarten as “the best thing that ever happened to him.”Mike’s connection to Will is profound. But being a gay teenager in the 1980s—while also not wanting to hurt El, whom he deeply cares for and feels responsible toward—would mean he’s carrying immense self-hatred, frustration, anger, fear, anxiety, depression, guilt, and the overwhelming sense of being “wrong” (a feeling Will also experiences).

All of this makes me believe that Season 5 could greatly benefit from focusing on Mike by making him Vecna’s target. Vecna would have plenty to exploit: Mike’s traumas, his unspoken suffering, and his struggles with his sexuality. It would be a perfect way to force Mike to confront who he is and what he feels for Will—while also allowing Will to learn the truth. Such a storyline would introduce rich internal conflict, both for Mike and for their relationship.

Considering how explicitly queer-coded Mike is in Season 4, it would be an enormous waste not to explore this as a central narrative thread in Season 5. Doing so would not only bring Will and Mike’s relationship to the forefront but would also give us a deeper look into Mike’s psyche—all the pain he has endured silently, all the while remaining loyal and supportive toward Will and El. Mike has worried for them, searched for them, protected them, and fought for them. It’s time the series recognizes that, even without powers, Mike is the heart of the group. Without him, everything falls apart.

#byler #mike wheeler #stranger things #stranger things analysis #stranger things theory #byler endgame #byler tumblr #mike wheeler analysis

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possibilistfanfiction · 24 days ago

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caitvi: funeral :)

[i see u all trying to get me to write angst don't think i don't! but this is v little angst & mostly sweet, once again i love sisters. jinx pov, little continuation of this silly au if u are interested.]

‘are you attending some funeral i don’t know about, or —‘

vi huffs, straightening her collar in the mirror by the front door. ‘it’s a nice outfit.’

‘sure.’ to be fair, she is in nice black slacks — possibly her only pair of pants other than her firefighter uniform that don’t have a rip somewhere — and chelsea boots without too many scuffs, and those are fine on their own, but paired with a black, long-sleeve button up and a black trench coat — yours, thank you very much — she looks kind of ridiculous. ‘if you’re a caterer. or, you know, a pall bearer.’

she groans, flopping down on your couch in very overdone despair. and people say you’re dramatic. ‘well then you fix it.’

you’d known vi was nervous for days now, which you think is ridiculous. you’ve already climbed twice indoors again with caitlyn and jayce, so it’s not like they haven’t seen each other and subsequently flirted to no end; thankfully ekko had come the second time, so, along with jayce, you outnumbered them at least. vi had sent some monster stuff on lead, a great outcome of her nerves that was honestly sick to watch; she’s also showered every day and cooked you dinner when she’s not on shift, and she even got a real honest-to-god haircut at a real honest-to-god barber instead of your haphazard best with clippers and a pair of dull scissors every few months. she doesn’t look too different, really, a little neater if anything, but she carries herself with a self-consciousness — some mixture of deep care and a little embarrassment, maybe — that would be endearing and amusing if it wasn’t so tragic. seeing vi this stressed over a pretty (which you will admit aloud; you can see caitlyn) and cool (which you will never admit aloud) girl kind of makes your chest ache a little.

‘can do,’ you tell her, taking pity, and salute to off-set her frown. it works, just like it does every time, like it has since you were little, even if you feel kinda upset too. the idea of having to share vi with anyone, even if it’s a good thing and a good person, even if she definitely deserves to give her love — the best love — to someone, has been making you feel off, so you’ve been seeking out all the comfort you can. sometimes everything is too fast and too slow, the voices that have been so quiet these past few years, since vi got out of prison and you moved in with her and started university, knocking on your door, urgent. you’ve talked about it with your therapist and worked on adjusting your meds; you’ve tinkered in your room with the lights off when everything has been too loud; you’d sat in the park with ekko under your favorite tree, your head in his lap. you haven’t told vi explicitly, but she knows what’s going on, and she’s woken up from frequent nightmares before you’d been able to sleep lately, so you’d sat together on the couch, covered in soft blankets, and rewatched your favorite episodes of queer eye in the middle of the night, crying so hard you end up laughing as the sun comes up.

you have your own rooms now, after you upgraded to a bigger, much nicer apartment in a much safer area of town after she’d saved enough money and you’d gotten a work-study to help with the rent; she’d insisted on the smaller bedroom, because a lot of her shifts are overnight, but mostly you think it’s because she loves you and, in a lot of ways, is just trying to make up for lost time. you’d stopped being mad at her for getting arrested a long, long time ago, and, even though the voices are louder right now, they’ll fade, and you hope that knowing someone like caitlyn will help assuage vi of some of the guilt she’s always still carrying around.

you walk into her room first, scrounge around in her closet for the sweater you know she has because you bought it for her last birthday, hopeful for occasions just like this one, and emerge victorious. you put on your best tan france accent and pop a hip. ‘this, tucked into your pants, to match your eyes.’

vi nods seriously, even though she smiles at your impression. ‘good one, jinx.’

‘i know,’ you say. ‘i am the best dressed family member for a reason.’

vi is kind enough to not mention your current outfit of a ratty old fire department hoodie of hers that has long since been retired, sleep shorts with the elastic coming out of the waist, and mismatched socks, one slipping down your foot, but she does raise an eyebrow before shrugging out of the trench coat and unbuttoning her stupid shirt. the sweater you had picked out, and saved for, for months, is tight enough you can see her muscles, but loose enough she doesn’t look like an asshole; it’s a soft cashmere with a cool mock turtleneck you think fits her well. you nod in approval and venture to the coat closet while she tucks it in, and then bring her a leather jacket that had been vander’s once upon a time, you’re pretty sure, so it’s oversized on vi, but, ‘very cool,’ you say.

she looks at herself in the mirror and her shoulders relax; you know you did a good job, so you grin and pat yourself on the back. vi rolls her eyes but she laughs and wraps you up in a hug anyway.

‘are you wearing cologne?’ you mumble into her shoulder.

‘is it too much?’

‘no,’ you assure; it’s musky, with a little bit of smoke: warm. ‘it smells nice, actually. good taste for once.’

you feel her smile on the top of your head, and then she takes a serious breath.

you back up so you can really look at her. ‘caitlyn is, like, fine and all,’ you say, ‘and i will detonate a bomb if you tell anyone i said this, but you’re the coolest person i know.’

her eyes start to get a little watery so you wrinkle your nose and shove her; she barely moves, she’s so strong, but it does get her to sniffle into a smile. ‘you sure you’re okay with this? i know things have been harder for you lately.’

she wouldn’t ask if she didn’t really care, about both you and caitlyn. ‘yeah, sis,’ you say, and you mean it. ‘i’m sure.’

vi’s smile is too bright for you to feel otherwise, honestly. she putters around a little in front of the mirror again, and then you hear the buzzer. you scramble past her so you can answer. ‘come on up,’ you say, before caitlyn can even get a word in, and then buzz her in, grinning at vi when she sighs.

‘did you think she brought you flowers? oh my god, please.’ you twirl around.

‘you have a boyfriend; you and ekko go on dates all the time.’

‘i guess.’ you wrinkle your nose; it’s true, but, ‘definitely not quite like this though. wined and dined and all.’

caitlyn knocks on the door before vi can get another word in, and when you open it, a little too fast so it flings into the shoe rack, which makes vi wince, you’re very, very glad you made vi change, because caitlyn is in an understated, gorgeous navy blue dress and camel peacoat, her heels making her a good few inches taller than vi.

‘hello, jinx,’ she says, and then offers you a bottle of red wine and a carry out bag of — when you sniff it — your favorite chinese food. ‘as penance for stealing your sister tonight.’

you turn to vi. ‘keep her, please.’

both caitlyn and vi laugh while you scurry over to the kitchen island with your bounty, but you watch vi accept caitlyn’s offering of a single pressed flower in a small, simple black frame. ‘violet,’ she says, smiles crookedly, and vi grins, a little in awe, and kisses her cheek.

you’re ready for this, you are, because vi sets it down carefully on the entry table you’d fixed up together, and then smiles over at you, her fingers already tangled with caitlyn’s. ‘be good, jinx.’

you roll your eyes.

‘see you later,’ she says. ‘don’t wait up.’

‘ew.’ you uncork the wine; you’ll have to google the bottle later to see how much caitlyn really is trying to get on your good side. ‘have fun, i guess,’ you say, and they wave as they head out the door.

you do wait up, of course you do, playing video games and texting vander. when vi does get back in, her cheeks are flushed and her lips swollen.

‘went well, then?’

she startles a little, even though the tv is on and you’re clearly on the couch, her back pressed to the door like an actual teenager. ‘she’s … yes, it went well.’

‘make out in her subaru?’

when vi doesn’t say no, you roll your eyes. ‘gross. cliche too. i’m going to bed.’

vi laughs, happy. you’re happy too. ‘’night, jinx.’

‘goodnight, vi.’ the light from the tv is soft and she looks younger than you’re used to, her scars and everything behind them faded in the washed out, gentle light. ‘love you.’

her smile softens, just for you. ‘love you too.’

#arcane #arcane fic #caitvi #jinx. my girl #in my brain jinx in this au (not developed at all lol) is like... a mix of adult powder from 207 & our favorite lunatic jinx lol #just like... we love a mentally ill queen ! but not quite like that for a silly fun light au lol #probably vi pov next but honestly who knows this is all just a hope & a prayer i can write stuff atm #love them tho

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kanhotep · 1 month ago

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Spoiler Warning for the new Helluvaboss Episode

The more I think about the episode and listen to this absolute epic song, the more awed I am.

Like, first of all, we were all so worried about Vassago and he is such a sublime diva, I love him.

But what really broke me (besides the obvious) was Satan calling Lucifer "The Golden Angel". Yes, he was bullshitting about his place in Hell's hierarchy but that makes it even more special: Lucifer has many names, the fallen angel, the snake of the garden, the devil and such are surely ones he despises for they remind him of what he believes to be his biggest mistake and consequently of his greatest pain but they are what most off hell would know him as.

He has been called these things for 10 000 years.

The Morningstar or Samael (if Lucifer in the Hellaverse is the prince of heaven Samael and I would think so) might seem better choices at first as these are the names he had been called in heaven but that would simply make them more painful.

But Satan doesn't call him any of these.

He calls him the golden angel.

Because even after all these years, that's what Satan sees in him. The angel. The light. It's not a name, to him it is a fact.

There is so much to unpack there alone and that was just one verse in this masterpiece of a song!

Speaking of the song, can we please all appreciate that Vivzipop gave us the opportunity to have a fucking villain song sung by a protagonist?! Aka, everyone's absolute dream!

And oh boy, did Bryce Pinkham deliver.

He did such an amazing job that at first I didn't even realize how bad the lyrics was.

"Does he deserve the flame?" - What flame, he was just about to be beheaded dude, you just used that because you needed a rhyme with blame.

"Scheming more mastermindery" - Bro, what ?

"Could master the disaster" - You can barely master the disaster xD

All in all, it seems very rough.

But the moment Stolas opens this, what pocket dimension ?, and he and Blitz sing about their true thoughts and feelings, all of that changes and we come back to the heartfelt beautiful lyrics we are used to.

Meaning, that this entire performance wasn't one of hell's spontaneous musical numbers that just happen, like Ozzie's and Fizz's parts in House of Asmodeus or "When I see him", where the music and words just come to the characters. It turned into one, but didn't start out like that.

No. This was Stolas, showing up, stopping an execution with probably only half an idea of what exactly Blitz has been accused of and deciding that the best way to save this idiot's life is to bullshit his way through a song he's coming up with on the spot.

Probably in order to ensure that that arrogant peacock wouldn't interrupt him because a) dude probably can't sing and b) of the sheer absurdity of the situation.

(Bonus points if Stolas also thought about how that was probably not even the most dramatic soap opera acting they'd seen that day considering who was obviously leading the show on the Goetias side. But I don't want to give the bird to much credit, we know him to well for that. I love him, but he's a himbo.)

Anyway, I just really needed to say all of this because my brain is in overdrive.

I'm also itching to start drawing a short tragic comic about what would've happened if Stolas had come to late but I try to stop myself because, one, at this point I don't know how much more my soul can take and two, I am in the middle of another Hellaverse Project I should really finish first 😅

#helluva boss #stolitz #satan helluva boss #mastermind helluva boss #mastermind spoilers #helluvaboss spoilers #stolas #blitzø #helluvaboss blitzo #Poor loona #Poor Via #Honestly my heart goes out to that sweet girl #At least Stella is acting better as a mother than a wife #Yes I know terribly low bar #But honestly there are people in the Hellaverse who would still manage to stay under it #Thinking probably Rosie's first husband #lucifer morningstar

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cant-get-enough-btr-forever · 24 days ago

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Here's a rundown of the Big Time Rush timeline that no one asked for.

Season 1: early April -> late July (2010)

It's snowing in the pilot, but the boys are still in school (and Christmas decor is nowhere to be found).

In real life, April 4 was officially declared "Big Time Rush Day" by the mayor of Duluth (the fictional band's hometown). At first glance, this oddly specific date doesn't seem to have any ties to BTR. But after thinking about it, I realized that this was probably when the boys left Duluth to make it big time.

Griffin gives them three months to produce their demos.

So, "Big Time Demos" is set in early June. Just for good measure, Kendall opens this episode with "I can't believe we've been here for three months!"

In "Big Time Dance", the Palmwoods School throws an "end-of-year" dance party. End of the school year, that is. In 2010, the last day of school was June 24 (in Los Angeles, anyway).

A couple episodes later, "Big Time Fever" shows everyone dying of heat.

Then, in the season finale, the guys return to Duluth. It's no longer snowing. In fact, everybody is dressed lightly. Obviously, it's a warm month for the whole country—like, say, late July.

According to Gustavo, their first tour starts two weeks after the finale.

Conclusion: This season takes place over the course of four months. The pilot is set in early April (one of the snowiest months in Duluth), while the finale is set in late July (one of the hottest months in Los Angeles).

Season 2: late September (2010) -> late November (2011)

Their tour must have started in mid-August, since that's two weeks after late July. According to Katie, it lasted for six weeks.

The first episode opens with Mr. Bitters telling the boys that "it's fall." Six weeks after mid-August is late September, which is when fall begins. The band also performs at Rocktoberfest, which—you guessed it—happens in late September.

"Big Time Pranks" takes place smack in the middle of "Big Time Halloween" and "Big Time Christmas." It's safe to say that this one is set in November. Dang, I really wanted "The Day of Pranks" to be April 1st...

"Big Time Moms" is set in mid-May, of course.

Proms are typically held in late April to early June. Since "Big Time Prom Kings" comes right after "Big Time Moms", it's set in late May.

You know what? After season 1, the air dates seem to align with the fictional settings. So, I'll just assume that the season 2 finale takes place in late November.

Conclusion: Season 2 encapsulates a whole year—both for the characters, and the viewers.

Big Time Movie: mid-March (2012)

I'll guesstimate that the boys had about two months to prepare for their world tour.

Everyone is bundled up in coats, scarves, etc. The average March high in London is around 54°F (12°C).

Oh yeah, the movie was released on March 10.

Conclusion: Mid-March it is. Also, it's hard to believe that the whole film happens within a day.

Season 3: ?? mid-May -> early November (2012) ??

Their world tour apparently spans two months (no one ever says exactly how long it is). This season kicks off with their final concert.

I have a gut feeling that "Big Time Camping" takes place in October, since it's an ideal month for camping in California (mild temps).

I can only assume that the finale is set before December.

Conclusion: Honestly, there's not much to gauge dates from in season 3. Trust me—I re-watched the entirety of it, for this sole purpose. Everything just sort of...happens.

The only episode that hints a date is "Big Time Gold": Kendall says Jo's birthday is on the 21st. Of what, Kendall? The 21st of what?? It seems like they purposely avoid mentioning months. So, I mainly relied on the air dates as evidence.

Season 4: early May -> late July (2013)

In the first episode, Logan says they're about to announce their summer tour. So, clearly, it's almost summer. Once again, I used my guesstimating skills to infer that they announced it a month in advance. Besides, this episode aired in May.

This shot from "Big Time Cameos" (episode 5) proves that it's set in late May/early June:

The finale aired in late July, so it must be set in late July. Also, it just makes sense that the "Tween Choice Awards" would be held in the summer.

Conclusion: Well, this one is short and sweet: It simply seems to take place over two months. However, there is one glaring discrepancy: "Big Time Pranks II" sits in the middle of this season. We've already established that the Day of Pranks is in November. So...what happened here? Did the writers just completely ignore this detail??

.....

Let's summarize!

Within the showverse, Big Time Rush's entire career spans three years. It begins in early April of 2010, and ends in late July of 2013.

Well...it doesn't "end", per se. It just disappears from the fourth wall's view. We have yet to know how long Showverse!BTR really lasted, past the finale.

#This turned out much longer than I'd expected #Guess I'll tag it as an essay #big time rush #btrtv #essay #random stuff

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wheelerpilled · 1 year ago

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'forced conformity is killing the kids'

Mike Wheeler ST5 Theory/analysis

So we've all seen the new BTS of Finn Wolfhard on the set of Stranger Things dropped and OH MY GOD. THE DUALITY FROM LAST SEASON.

I have to TRY write about it ATLEAST...because wow I have a lot of potential thoughts, sorry it's once again unstructured, messy, and repetitive but stay with me please!!!!!!!!!!

I've seen ALOT of people happy we're getting s1-2 Mike hair back but guys .....it's not a good thing!!!!!!!!!! Mike is going THROUGH IT.

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In Season 4 it's acknowledged that Mike is finally coming into his own a bit, Eddie says he was wearing 'whatever his mom bought him' when he first came to highschool, but in episode 1 when we see him for the first time in S4, he's clearly been influenced by Eddie and has figured out what style he likes and what he's interested in, he's in a DND club, he's comfortable being known as an uncool nerd, he's growing his hair out (yes I DO believe it's because he idolised Eddie, I have more to say about that in a second)

basically: his hair and his outfits, aswell as pretty much the way he acts in Hawkins (NOT California- he goes back to pretending to be something else) in S4 represents the ideology non-conformity and his sense freedom in this new persona

he doesn't feel lost in highschool anymore, he's doing what he likes with his friends (DnD) and he's proudly wearing his hellfire shirt around school/Hawkins, basically, he's accepting that it's okay to enjoy 'different' things that aren't considered the norm, and it makes him happy, he feels comfortable!

_____________________________________________

But now in Season 5, from the pictures we've seen, it looks like he's fully reverted back into his shell, I guess I understand why tbh I don't blame him:

he comes back to Hawkins after everything and everyone believes he's in a satanic cult- townspeople probably treat him badly and Jason's team mates probably blame Eddie and the rest of hellfire for Jason's 'disappearance' (death). They directly connect him with all the horrible things that have happened to Hawkins as of late

...which is probably what the BTS of them walking towards Mike are about, they probably keep harassing him no matter how he acts and Mike just wants them to leave him alone, let's face it:

High school has probably gone full circle back to middle school for Mike and he's getting bullied/mistreated again. So he feels his only option is to remove himself from Hellfire and become 'normal'.

Hellfire might maybe even be blamed for the gates being opened. Last we heard, the townspeople were hunting down Eddie and the rest of hellfire, and the graffiti on Eddie's grave in the S5 pics shows that he's still very much hated.

Mike probably got harassed by multiple people who don't believe Eddie's dead, or believe Mike was in on it and are out looking for him, or think Hellfire contributed to some satanic ritual causing the 'earthquake' and thus Mike is also a target and it's dangerous for him.

So I think part of the style change and haircut is due to THAT, he doesn't wear his hellfire shirt anymore because he doesn't want any affiliation with the club.

As Finn Wolfhard has said in previous interviews 'mikes just trying to act as normal as possible' so by seperating himself from Eddie/Hellfire and becoming more conventionally 'normal' he won't be treated like an outcast.

He won't be assaulted, bullied, blamed, or worse if he conforms. He has a greater chance of everything becoming better/easier while living in Hawkins if he does this, he might have even given up DnD aswell- so yeah he's gonna be pretty MISERABLE in season 5

___________________________________________

Alot of people wanted to see his reaction to Eddie's death, I think we'll definitely be seeing the lingering after effects of it, and alot of Mike's arc will kick off because of the aftermath of the vilification of Hellfire.

Only few people know that Eddie died to try protect Hawkins, Eddie was a role model for Dustin and Mike, but they're grieving him in COMPLETELY different ways

Dustin decides to honour him by taking up a similar style and proudly wearing his hellfire shirt, and is also probably trying to sway the town's opinion on Eddie and prove him innocent.

....But Mike seemingly decides that he DOESNT want to end up like Eddie anymore: dead and hated, known as a satanic freak.

Someone he idolised is now deceased, he doesn't know how to properly handle that fact, it's intimidating that someone he looked up to do much could be so hated, and in turn has caused the reaction from Mike that is basically 'if my idol is treated as such a horrible outcast, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps, where would that leave me?' he's feeling lost and hopeless, especially with the state Hawkins is in, so he probably decides the best thing to do is just blend in. Be normal.

It probably scares him that even merely his interest in DnD and all these other factors immediately make him a target, as far as townspeople believe- Mike is one of the kids who was close with a brutal serial killer, they probably think he's just as 'messed up as Eddie the freak was' for staying friends with someone who'd do such horrible things

I think Mike just wants to hide as much as he can right now, he has ALOT on his plate and doesn't need the rest of the town out to get him.

so if anyone asks: he'll probably say things like 'I didn't really know Eddie! I would never join a cult like that, I didn't know!' or something to try seperate his name from the hellfire club.

Mike will end up picking protecting himself and hiding his true identity and values/traits rather then living exposed and vulnerable; yet true to what he actually believes is right....And that is the opposite of what Dustin is doing,

Dustin is a proud hellfire member and friend of Eddie, he's picking what he thinks is right over self-preservation from the town, he's still wearing his battered shirt, now HE'S the one growing his hair out, he still adores Eddie and misses him (so does Mike probably, but he feels he CANT outwardly publicly show support or stand up for him)

I do wonder if this will cause some sort of tension between Dustin and Mike, because Dustin is doing the opposite and becoming more like Eddie instead of distancing himself from the hellfire name, he might feel betrayed that Mike 'gave up' on Hellfire, and maybe accuse him of not even caring about Eddie or his death?? Idk!!!!!!!!!! I feel like Dustin will also be going through it this season 😭😭😭

_____________________________________________

I do also think Mike will try to be clinging alot to El this season (I mean, before they inevitably break up which I believe will probably happen kinda early on if it actually happens at all)

this is also because just the idea of having a girlfriend corresponds to his idea of conformity and being 'normal'. He just wants to be a normal guy, his life is nothing out for the ordinary, he's not interested in satanic things like dnd and hellfire, he's just a normal person. A normal person who is PROBABLY a target of Vecna in season 5 😓

I believe his arc for this season will be trying to breakout of these notions of conformity in exchange for things he actually likes and is interested in, we saw him sort of branching out in season 4, but I think THIS time it's happening for real, and he'll end up fully embracing his own views and interests after some sort of emotional arc-which will also probably be part of the M*lev*n break up (not censored because I'm against them/hate them I just don't wanna clog the tag for others 😭😭) OR set off by the breakup

Throughout season 1 he was told he liked El, or others assumed it, so I think he assumed it aswell, they just never broke up because El ALSO thinks having a boyfriend is normal and expected, and because Mike was the boy she was closest to she assumed it was romantic feelings (and he kissed her in S1 which probably contributed to her assuming they were romantic feelings)

Alot of the people around her are also in relationships, and she watched alot of TV with happy romantic couples so she thinks it's more normal to HAVE a boyfriend then to NOT have one, I think Mike and El kinda stayed together because they think they're SUPPOSED to by these social standards,

They obviously care about each other alot, and mistook it as reasons to just stay together, she wants to be a normal girl because only being a superhero isnt good for her, she needs to be 'Jane Hopper' and not '011'. I do think she definitely needs to be single for awhile and find herself, even if her and Mike are to be endgame, she NEEDS at least some time to gain some experiences outside of living her life as a superhero, (Mike also needs character development outside of being 'Els Boyfriend's)

Which is why it was vital that her time with max in S3 existed, so El could realise her value and that there is a life outside having a boyfriend- I think Mike needs a similar moment aswell, a wake-up call of sorts where he can take a step back and consider maybe rather than letting society dictate his actions, he makes decisions for what he wants for himself ('we make our own rules')

_____________________________________________

If m*lev*n is endgame then sure that's great for them, but I genuinely don't know what big character arc could be in store for Mike that doesn't involve a breakup and themes of non-conforming, it doesn't even have to involve Byler endgame at all (although I AM a byler truther)

I think Mike learning that it's okay to let go of that romantic relationship if he doesn't feel that way anymore is a big step for his character, or atleast taking a break so he can work on himself, anything along those lines of actual development on himself rather then on his relationship- El and Mike have been romantically paired from the start, he needs to learn that it's OKAY to breakup with someone if thats what he feels is right, (side note: I DO believe El would/will be the one to breakup with him 😭)

I don't think he realises that he'll be able to stay friends with El, it's not 'shes my girlfriend or else she'll hate me for breaking up with her. No other options'

he doesn't want to lose her because he cares about her but he can't find a way to balance that romantic relationship alongside his other friendships. So I think for his character to develop they have to breakup, even temporarily, but obviously that's only my opinion if M*lev*n is endgame then oh well, it's endgame, but I think they would be a really awesome platonic duo and I'd like their relationship alot more if it was that way

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I think later in the season he'll realise that living this way not actually what he wants, and he doesn't want to give up who he is, or pretend to be something he's not- because he IS a nerd who likes DnD, and he does support Eddie, he cared alot about him because he idolised him, and i think season 5 is about him learning that that's okay and he doesn't have to feel so much pressure to conform by societal standards, bro needs a better grief process, forced conformity GOT HIS ASS 😭😭😭

What I'm trying to say is: all of this, and his new look is a safety net of sorts, he's still pretending to be something he's not because he feels he HAS to, otherwise it's dangerous for him in Hawkins because of hellfires reputation, but he's also acting this way because of other factors that I haven't really thought through yet LMAO

I believe season 5 will probably be him accepting those things about himself and embracing it, maybe also undoing his emotional repression along the way, I guess I would describe it as coming of age and I think if it's handled well it could be really beautiful in a way

OH MY GOD I RAMBLED SO MUCH AND IT ISNT EVEN A SOLID THEORY JUST A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS😭

Sorry that was long and repetitive but uhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah..........anyways Mike Wheeler ily keep ur head up king please don't die in S5‼️‼️ stay safe‼️‼️

#PLEASE READ AND STAY WITH ME IK ITS LONG 😭😭😭#stranger things #mike wheeler #stranger things 5 #st5 #jane hopper #eleven hopper #el hopper #byler #st analysis #finn wolfhard #will byers #eddie munson

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chaifootsteps · 4 months ago

Note

I cannot STAND the idea that good intentions equates to capability, and that ESPECIALLY applies to parenting. I loathe how the Helluva fandom treats Stolas as a good father BECAUSE of his good intentions alone, not because of his actual capability to meet the expectations of a father. So, if you’ll permit me, I’ve decided that I’m gonna be reeeeeeal obnoxious for the next few asks by breaking down all provided CANON evidence in the Helluva Boss series on Stolas as a father to Octavia in the episodes where it is directly relevant. Also, as much as this is being driven by spite, I will genuinely try to be fair, and feel free to call me out on any missed moments or unfair assessments for each episode mentioned!

So, to begin, how is Stolas as a father to Octavia in Loo Loo Land?

Things he does right:

In the past, he goes to Octavia when she cries out for her parents in the middle of the night.

He asks her what’s wrong directly, and validates her fear by directly calling her bad dream a nightmare.

He does not bring attention to how late it is or that she woke him up, and takes the time to slowly calm her down again.

He reassures her that he will be present in her life, and sings her a comforting lullaby.

He tucks her back into bed and only leaves after he sees she has clearly fallen back asleep.

In the present, he recognizes Via’s awake and asks her how she slept.

He tries to engage in her interests by asking what music she’s listening to.

He realizes parental arguments might be stressful and tries to remove Via from that situation.

He tries to spend alone time with his daughter at a place she used to really enjoy.

He recognizes that people of their status could be at risk and takes into account their physical wellbeing.

He tries to encourage Via to engage with her environment positively at Loo Loo Land.

He does not discuss the stressful home situation while they are walking around the park.

He goes after her when she runs off upset.

When he finds her, he removes his goofy hat to show he is taking the situation seriously, and opens conversation with a gentle tone and consideration of her being upset instead of anger/fear that she ran off.

He apologizes for taking her somewhere she didn’t want to go and apologizes for how complicated everything has been and how he hasn’t been listening to her.

He apologizes for not being able to properly convey the complicated adult situations happening around her.

He makes it clear that he will not abandon her and hugs her.

He initiates their departure and validates that Loo Loo Land is not an appropriate place for her to be at her age or in her current emotional state.

He carries her out of the park while she is in a clearly emotionally vulnerable state and still needs his parental validation and support.

He focuses entirely on her as they are leaving the park instead of on the others or the actively burning attractions, which includes him proactively protecting the two of them from an attacker himself.

He tries to end the day positively by specifically asking her what she would like to do next and agrees to her suggestion.

He thanks her for her positive words and patience with him. Things he does wrong:

In the past, he does not reassure Via that her mother also cares about her and will be present in her life like him. Admittedly, Via’s use of “you” when explaining her bad dream COULD refer to Stolas specifically, but it could just as well refer to the plural “you” of both her parents, which could be supported by the fact she called out to both her parents after her nightmare.

In the present, he did not pay any attention as her parent to the type of breakfast she prepared for herself when considering that she is still a minor, which seemed to consist of a cup of coffee and some fistfuls of cereal straight from the box. Ideally, he could have encouraged her to use a bowl and have some milk and water, or he could have offered to get those for her to alleviate any possible implication of him judging her meal. She is almost eighteen, so he should be trying to encourage her in little ways to be more proactive in how she feeds herself.

When she makes it clear that she heard him and Stella scream arguing and implies it negatively impacts her, he does not apologize for the fact she had to hear that or try to assure her that the situation is manageable as a parent. I cannot emphasize enough how damaging it is to children to experience loud, angry confrontations between their parents, and the fact she is more personally inconvenienced instead of scared/confused implies that she has witnessed many negative interactions between her parents.

When he tries to engage in her interests by asking about her music, he doesn’t try to elevate tensions by redirecting the conversation when her response leaves him feeling guilty. It might have been better for him to try and make the conversation less tense by asking her what genre it is or what other songs “Fuck You Dad” has made that she likes.

He lies about their day at Loo Loo Land being just the two of them by inviting IMP and flirting with Blitz throughout their time there.

He disregards Via’s extremely negative response to his suggestion that they go to Loo Loo Land.

He refers to staying at the house as a very negative situation. This is the house Via is supposed to feel at home in.

He makes EXTREMELY age, situation, and relationship inappropriate comments in front of his daughter while calling Blitz. I, similarly, cannot emphasize enough how disgusting his remarks around and about his daughter were, and that judgement would apply whether OR NOT she was a minor.

He actively brings along an affair partner to his day at the park with Via and frequently flirts with him in front of her.

He never denies or argues against Via’s observations of his and Blitz’s apparent sexual relationship including when she implies she does not enjoy knowing that they have a sexual relationship together. Remember, unhappy as he may be, he is still a married man who has brought along his affair partner while the daughter he had with the wife he is cheating on was with him.

Instead of asking about her negative view of Loo Loo Land or trying to encourage her to see the positive, he laughs off the awkwardness and changes the topic, pulling her away from the scene.

In the scene where we see Blitz’s bodyguard shenanigans, there is no visual or audio cue that Stolas is trying to have conversation with Via as they walk around the park.

When he is being surrounded by attackers, he does not attempt to warn Via or consider how she might feel about seeing that situation. After Blitz saves him, he doesn’t check on whether she was scared for upset by seeing that happen.

(Heads up, but any heavy bias in this next statement is because this is one of my most-hated scenes in the episode) While chasing after her into the Lucifer building, he willingly stops and POSTPONES FOLLOWING HIS EMOTIONALLY DISTRAUGHT DAUGHTER out of annoyance and confusion that Blitz has not personally dealt with the extremely minor inconvenience that is the latest attacker. After Millie saves him, he further delays going after his daughter by spending time asking Millie and Moxxie where Blitz is.

When Via explains her specific reasons as to why she didn’t enjoy coming to Loo Loo Land (her parents fighting and watching him flirt with his affair partner), he does not address each of the specific issues she brings up or apologize for his role in each of those specific issues.

By opening his attempted explanation of his and Stella’s marriage situation with “You need to understand-“, this insinuates that Via would be expected to be less bothered by the fighting and flirting if she knew that him and Stella were in an unhappy marriage, which can come across as invalidating the child’s negative feelings.

When Via expresses fear over him leaving her, he does not try and ask her why that was a worry of her’s and THEN reaffirm why she wouldn’t need to worry about it in the first place. And that’s it for Stolas as a father in Loo Loo Land! Feel free to tell me your thoughts and if you’d like to read my breakdowns of his good and bad from the other episodes!

Good breakdown! And keep in mind, this is probably the pinnacle of his parenting. It's all downhill from there.

#Anonymous #stolas critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

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thebluemallet · 5 months ago

Text

My Favorite Portia Featherington Moments

Throughout all three seasons of Bridgerton, Portia Featherington has been a complicated character. On the surface, she's completely unlikeable. She treats Penelope poorly. Her fashion sense is excessively gaudy. And she seems either unaware or willfully ignorant of the social faux pas she makes from day to day.

But she is also a survivor who was dealt a shit hand in life with her useless husband. And she did what she had to do to ensure the safety and well-being of her daughters in desperate times. So here are a few of my favorite Portia moments.

10- Showing Marina What Her Future Holds

When Portia finds out that Marina is pregnant, her first instinct is to protect her girls and her family's reputation. She wants to send Marina away and back to the country but she can't because of her useless husband's dealings. George hasn't answered Marina's letter telling him about her condition. Without knowing that George's fate has already been sealed, Marina's insistence that George will come for her seems naive--especially to Portia.

When Marina refuses to even entertain the idea of being married off quickly to an older man in need of an heir who won't ask too many questions, Portia, like the Ghost of Christmas Future, shows Marina what her life will be if she continues to hold out for George.

It's a much-needed wake-up call but it does not work on Marina. The forged letter may have seemed cruel at the time, but if I were in Portia's shoes, I would have assumed the worst of George, too.

9- Confronting Her Husband

When Lord Featherington puts a premature end to the courtship between Albion Finch and his middle daughter Philippa, Portia is outraged. A man has taken an interest in one of their daughters, seems besotted with her, and wants to marry her. What possible objections could there be?

When she tries to press him for answers in public, Lord Featherington uses his position as a man and a husband to silence her. But when Portia uncovers that he has gambled away all of their money--including their daughters' dowries--her husband is revealed for the sniveling coward that he is. Outside of the eyes of society, he is a weak man who can't curtail his vices even for the well-being and future of his family.

They may not like each other, but even Portia wasn't expecting this level of betrayal from her husband.

Cry those crocodile tears, Archibald! I don't feel sorry for you whatsoever. I'm Team Portia on this one.

8- "You find things to love, my dear."

Even a blind man could tell that Portia and Archibald were not a love match. She married him for security and he failed to even provide that. But she managed to find silver linings in the many clouds of her marriage.

Her talk with Marina in the final episode of season 1 gives the audience more insight into the kind of woman Portia is and how strong she had to be to endure her marriage with her late husband for so long. It's the kindest and most motherly we've seen her be all season. And her talk gives Marina the final push she needs to do what needs to be done to protect her babies.

Portia, as we'll see, is better off without her deadbeat husband. She has more strength than she gave herself credit for in this scene. And she has the three best things her husband gave her by her side.

7- "I am a MOTHER."

After the death of Archibald, the Featherington women are in financial stasis until the new Lord Featherington finally shows up. When Cousin Jack finally arrives some things are starting to look up. But he is making some questionable decisions right off the bat.

Portia is, once again, at the mercy of a Featherington man who makes piss-poor financial decisions when Cousin Jack comes into the picture.

She navigates the situation as best as she can, even getting into his fraudulent gemstone scheme when she's backed into a corner with no way out. Desperate times, desperate measures.

After Colin uncovers the scheme and Cousin Jack proposes not only running away from the country, but even leaving Prudence and Penelope behind and sending for them later, Portia has had enough. If you think this woman would ever seriously consider abandoning her daughters to save her own skin, then you don't know her at all.

Portia doesn't always make the right decisions. Portia doesn't always say the right things. Portia is far from a perfect mother. But she'll ALWAYS choose her daughters over mediocre men who only care for themselves, and for that, I'll love her forever for showing Cousin Jack the door.

6- Sex-Ed With Philippa and Prudence

The moment Philippa said that she and Albion were "very passionate" I KNEW that we were in for some comedic gold.

And I was RIGHT.

At first, Portia thinks her biggest problem with the Featherington Heir Race is Prudence. But at least she can relate to Prudence's problem of not enjoying the marital act. Poor Portia's not even aware that it can be enjoyable for both parties.

But to her horror, BOTH of her married daughters are the problem. Prudence isn't having sex because she doesn't like it and Philippa isn't having sex because she has no idea what it is.

You can see the wheels turning in both Prudence's and Portia's heads when Philippa asks that infamous question.

If Lady Featherington went home that night and screamed into her pillows, I wouldn't blame her.

5- Chaperoning Polin

Portia's finally realized that she's been a little lax with chaperoning Penelope over the years. No matter, she'll make up for it now and chaperone her daughter when her fiancee comes for a visit!

Colin and Penelope are just not used to having a chaperone and they have no idea how to conduct themselves with one in the room. Colin looks downright annoyed every time he sees Portia out of the corner of his eye. Penelope's staring at his lips the whole time and probably wants Colin to compromise her again right there on the window seat.

But the real comedy of this scene is knowing that Penelope is already pregnant. So the chaperoning was too little, too late.

4- Finally Bonding With Violet

For most of the series, Portia and Violet have gotten along like oil and water. They're not great friends like Penelope, Colin, and Eloise. They don't hang out at social events. Portia is envious of the Bridgertons and their social clout. Violet barely tolerates Portia on a good day. And as much as Violet loves Penelope, you can tell in 3x05 and 3x06 that she's not looking forward to having Portia as an in-law.

But when Colin and Penelope are on the outs just before their wedding, the two mothers have finally found some common ground.

3- Handling Lady Whistledown

I was not expecting Cressida to actually tell Portia that Penelope was Lady Whistledown. I thought she'd make a vague comment that Penelope would have to play off as nothing and then she would work with Colin and Eloise to overcome the Cressida threat.

But no, Cressida really tells Portia.

The threat of Cressida's blackmail hanging over her daughter's head and what this could mean for the Polin marriage is enough for Portia's protective mother instincts to kick in and she teams up with Colin and Eloise to find a solution and protect Penelope.

And she gets extra brownie points from me because one of her first reactions to learning about Whistledown is to point out that Penelope was the one to write horrible things about herself. ("The things you wrote! About your family! About yourself!")

Yes, Portia's angry about Penelope's secret and what she's done as Whistledown, but she puts that anger on the back burner for a short time while she tries to navigate her family through their latest crisis. To paraphrase what she said to Cousin Jack at the end of last season: she and Penelope are on the same team.

2- Portia and Penelope Finally Talk

Portia might have put her anger to the side when she found out about Whistledown, but it returns when Penelope finds out that Portia kept the money Cousin Jack had embezzled from the ton.

Portia and Penelope finally have it out and mother and daughter realize that they are more alike than they had previously realized or were even willing to admit.

1- Portia as a Grandmother

Portia started out the season anxious that none of her daughters would have a son and secure their family's future. By the end of the season, she's a grandmother to two granddaughters and one grandson--the new Lord Featherington. Her family's future is finally secure at last.

Now that she has her grandchildren, Portia will finally be able to relax a little. It must have been hard being in survival mode for so long. Now she can enjoy her life and watch all three of her daughters have marriages filled with love and happiness.

#bridgerton #bridgerton s1 #bridgerton s2 #bridgerton s3 #this is a portia featherington appreciation post #portia featherington #my favorite portia moments #the featheringtons #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #polin #polin baby #philippa featherington #prudence featherington #violet bridgerton #marina thompson

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randomfoggytiger · 5 months ago

Text

React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (Weremonster), Part III

Here we go, first comedic episode of the Revival.

…Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay…

Part I (My Struggle I) and Part II (Founder's Mutation).

Let's go!

MULDER AND SCULLY MEET THE WEREMONSTER

Why are we starting with adults huffing spray paint.

…Darin wrote two episodes with people getting high off of the strangest substances.

And that’s not a lot, but it’s odd that it happened twice.

Why do monsters always run towards the people or object or whatever they’re trying to scare or escape from? Like, what if he got surprise-shanked by two high, high school dropouts? (It’s not out of the realm of possibility.)

No self-preservation instinct, tsk tsk.

This dude’s okay, no that dude, woah that dude might not be okay.

…Random paper bag for the high man to stress-blow into.

Oh, look, a writer remembering the lore.

How quaint.

(Sidenote: Darin did not remember the lore, and kinda prided himself on not keeping up with all of it. But that won’t matter to me if he writes a good one-off.)

Mulder’s older now so he can’t stretch his neck to throw pencils at the ceiling. I guess. I suppose. I supposition. I presume.

Kumail’s in this one?

…’Kay.

“Mulder?” Yay, that’s Scully-- “What are you doing to my poster?” And that’s Gillian.

Mulder’s recounting all his failures in an upbeat, presentational way ‘cuz he’s wooing his girl. At least neither of them act like they’re on the precipice of death, that’s neato.

Oh, look, Scully can smile. Remember how she did that twice in My Struggle I? Good times.

Why’s her shirt look like it’s from Walmart?

Forgot this… pencil-scratch material was popular around the mid twenty-teens.

Can I forget it again…? …No? Do they leave it behind in Season 10?

“--Going through these cases with fresh, if not wiser eyes.” Well, I don’t know about that.

Also, is that a dig at his “wiseness” or a tongue-in-cheek joke at Mulder’s pat-on-the-back nature? (Lemme rewind.) Backpat coupled with epiphany.

“Mulder? Have you been taking your meds?”

…

….

…..

What, did they expect a laugh out of me? It just annoyed me because of the whole “Mulder’s depression” trauma I suffered for two episodes.

But at least Darin’s trying to remind us that’s an on-going issue (despite CC implying it doesn’t bother Mulder anymore in My Struggle I and Morgan?-- or Wong-- reinforcing that idea in his “bitterly healed and chakras open” Founder’s Mutation ending.)

Mulder’s a middle-aged man who just got back to the office and is wondering if anything he’s accomplished… well, if he’s accomplished anything.

A valid question in these dark times.

And by dark times, we all know what me and my chocolate-addled, My Struggle-PTSDed brain are referring to.

Mulder certainly does:

“Maybe it’s time to put away childish things-- the Sasquatches, the Mothmen, and… Jackalopes.”

Okay, well that’s rude-- I always wanted to see a jackalope case.

Mulder spent one weekend not getting a community response to his latest fanfic and let the dark thoughts take over.

All joke’s aside, this is an… it’s an okay scene. It’s weighty enough to be taken seriously, you feel for this clone of Mulder’s, you hope he gets his Mr. Incredibles act together--

Oh, wait, he already did by now.

I guess.

We skipped the traincar training montage while he was getting back into FBI ready shape.

…

.....

.......

You’re welcome.

On another aside, Skinner just pulled all the strings only for Mulder to have an identity crisis after one weirdo case.

Man’s been carrying everyone on his back for decades with no rest and his newly recruited, depressed-but-not-depressed-depending-on-the-writer, domesticated-feral-animal agent might just trounce back out of the FBI and go wall up somewhere to mope.

At least he’s not wandering off to take illegal substances to satisfy his curiosity.

No.

That’s saved for another episode.

Scully brushes over Mulder’s confession to say, “we got another case, and this one’s ALSO got a monster in it.”

And that makes him happy.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooookay.

*scribbling notes for later observation*

Darin has a favorite and that is OG Scully. And I will give it to him, she actually sounds happy for once.

ALSO, I noticed your smoker voice is gone, GILLIAN, unless you’re mumbling or using The Sad Voice ™. I noticed.

Scully’s insisting this is a monster case while Mulder mopes around the woods and says it’s a mountain lion.

…I’m NOT gonna nitpick. I’m NOT-- OKAY, so, rewind time.

Older Mulder-- as in the 90s Mulder-- would have at least been amused by Scully’s antics and followed her around for the fun of it, unless he felt used and abused, i.e. Host and Folie a Deux. Here is not the case.

Further, he was intrigued in the basement but is now kind of… dismissive.

Which is. It’s not a big problem, it doesn’t stand out, and it wouldn’t be something I’d clock except I’m very disgruntled and burned and grumpy about the past three days.

However.

Let’s continue.

Mulder’s Patriarchy Pants are making him do the Marilyn Monroe wiggle again. However, like a virus, middle-aged wedgie crotch has infected Scully, too; and the two of them are squeak-squonking ‘round the forest.

They do say marriage slowly turns you into each other.

Mulder sloughing off the naked guy in the crime scene pics as “Well, maybe he’s a nudist.”

Darin.

I know what you’re doing here.

Give Mulder the doubting identity crisis and have his faith transformed. A reverse Clyde Bruckman, if you will. I get it. But you gotta admit, "a nudist" is a pretty weak rationalization, let alone a comeback.

“That’s how I’d like to go out.” That saved it a little.

“The uniqueness of the wound, Mulder, implies a human element.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Scully, I gave up profiling before I gave up monsters.” WHAT? LAST WEEK?

YOUR CREDENTIALS AS A PROFILER GOT YOU HIRED BACK TO THE FBI--

Pause, pause, pause.

He’s probably being tongue-in-cheek. He gave up monsters this morning and profiling last night.

…If he’s not, what’s Mulder gonna do? Take up residence under Skinner’s desk? Have his bald benefactor feed him pencil shavings between meetings?

“You seen one serial killer, you seen ‘em all.” Quite literally, no.

I am.

Puzzled.

It’s not offensive-- WAIT, NO. I’m being emotionally manipulated by a softer Mulder and more upbeat Scully, youcan’ttakemealive--

“Mulder, I can see you’re going through a questioning phase of some sort--”

You don’t say.

From bar to basement. From closet to forest. From Founder’s Mutation to… Weremonster Investigation.

Scully points out they need to help the victims.

Mulder: “Okay, well when you put it that way, Scully, but mark my words--”

I’m not getting the essence of Mulder here, gang.

I got him for, like, three whiffs in My Struggle I and once at the end of Founder’s Mutation, but he’s MIA here so far.

…Perhaps my “clone Mulder” crack in a previous paragraph kinds fits.

Hmmm. If he continues to be Mulder-adjacent, I shall name him… I was gonna say ‘Charlie’, then remembered that’s Scully’s brother’s name. The CC name rot is infecting me.

The streetwalker-on-crack scene was amusing, but not really funny.

OH, MAN, JUST GOT JUMP-SCARED BY KUMAIL, OHMYWORD.

Also, that was a weird cut-- Scully opens her mouth to say something, Mulder looks at her, CUT, Kumail face.

The director was meaning to imply Mulder stopped Scully’s attempted defense with a look, but it only made it seem like one of them said something so cancellable the editors drop-kicked that bit from the final recording.

I haven’t laughed once .

Welp, Kumail ran off after playing a scared animal control officer for three seconds.

Pardon, but what was the purpose of that scene?

This kinda feels like a play: in this set piece, the hooker whacks a creature with a purse; in this set piece, Kumail gets spooked by the agents and runs off after hearing a roar; still in this set piece, Mulder whips out his phone and starts… hitting… the… picture… button.

My thought process:

It's dark at night.

2. I hear a ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR.

3. I'm pulling out my gun, not my camera.

You know why?

There are more tigers in North American than the world combined.

Just sayin’.

SCULLY, REINSTALL THE SAFETY FEATURE IN YOUR KEN, PLEASE.

JUST. PUT. THE PHONE. ON. VIDEO. MODE.

Oh, wait, he’s a tech goombus who doesn’t know how to take videos.

THEY SAW A DEAD BODY--

…

THEY SAW A DEAD BODY THROUGH HIS PHOTOS INSTEAD OF NOTICING THE CORPSE RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM?

I’m not mad because this isn’t as mean-spirited as the previous two episodes, but that’s just. That’s just.

That.

Wait, how’d they get from Mulder’s camera setting to his photo collage, without swiping or going there or…? He was taking rapid-fire pictures, Scully looks over, says, “What’s that?”, and the camera cuts to a picture that has to be in the phone’s gallery. …What happened-- you know what? Never mind.

Mulder runs off INTO THE DARK with ONLY HIS CAMERA OUT while Scully is yards behind him WITH THE GUN.

Solid decision making there.

My man, if this were a tiger (we’ve already seen it’s the horny Lizardman) or a cougar in heat (well, give Scully a few episodes), you’d probably be very dead.

I’ve named Mulder-Clone: Ken. He’s cute, he’s having an identity crisis, and he’s as dumb as a rock.

This fits unintentionally well with his Patriarchy Pants (though they’re wearing him, not of the other way around.)

Kumail’s here and they both scared each other and now they’re hyper-Ken-focusing on Ken’s wonky phone app and stuff.

Barbie-- clone Scully-- hears Ken and Kumail screaming their lungs out after getting jumped by Lizardman and only NOW notices Mulder had Marilyn Monroe shimmied off.

Imagine if this were the end of Mulders career: questioning his life’s purpose, losing the battle to technology, and T-posing, dead, on the ground.

Ken sounds completely fine when Scully runs up to him asking if he's okay. No wooziness. No nothing. (Kumail, too.)

“Okay. I quit.” Smarty Mr. K. over there (not Ken, but you knew that.)

Monster’s a-running, and Formerly-Mulder springs up and races off with Scully.

What did that jumpscare accomplish, narratively? What did any of these jumpscares accomplish, narratively?

I know we’re only 10 minutes in, but it’s feeling a little too… scene-scene-scene-scene-scene, jumpscare-jumpscare-jumpscare, phone-phone-phone-phone-phone. T-pose. That was a shakeup, I guess.

Ken was going to question the guy on the pot (who is, indeed, the Lizardman, btw) but notices Scully’s face and closes the door and walks away with her.

Strangely, that and the basement are the only scenes, thus far, where Ken was most like Mulder.

Scully, do you regret putting a battery pack in your Ken doll now?

This interaction is still Ken-not-Mulder, but Scully is kinda recognizable.

Just realized. Mulder replaced his slideshow with a phone. Now he can inflict them on his partner even in the midst of her autopsies.

No one is safe.

THERE’S A MULDER MOMENT, I ACTUALLY SMILED!

And now it’s gone.

“So now you’re saying you were attacked by a six-foot horny toad?”

“Woah, let’s keep this in the realm of natural sciences, shall we?”

Um.

That’s not a Mulder line.

That’s not even a Ken line, I don’t think.

Need to think up a new name for Mulder, I guess.

I figured it out. David’s attacking the lines too vigorously rather than letting them breathe. I’m sure he’ll get there.

Or Mulder and Scully were swallowed up by a black hole the second after they exchanged “Scratchy beard” niceties. Because that’s the last I’ve seen of them.

But honestly? Clone. Lives. Matter.

So, I shall fully support Clone Mulder and Clone Scully living their truth, expressing their lived experiences, and digging through each other’s brains like hairless capuchin monkeys dressed in skin-tight leotards.

I was gonna say “horny, hairless capuchin monkeys” but I’ve not got a LICK of sexual tension between them this whole time.

They do say married couples transition from goose-pimply “honeymoon love” to matured, knowing passion; but all I’m getting is the “knowing” and none of the “passion”.

Right after my point, the two exchanged a little upbeat moment. I’ll give it that; but the passion’s still not there.

WAIT, this episode has the fox-in-the-wall scene?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I thought that was the doppelganger one.

‘Kay. Color me intrigued.

…WHAT is going on with these random, “comedic” scenes?

Desk clerk yells "Monster!", Mulder runs in, guy’s shaking over a bottle, makes up a story, tells Mulder to go back to his room “or I’ll kill ya.” Mulder nods and walks off.

I’m not getting the fun of this episode, but I’m only 12 minutes in. So.

Mulder’s snooping in someone else’s room.

Mulder took someone else’s meds.

Mulder found an animal head with hollow eyes that led him to a secret room behind the motel room.

Heh, get it, he’s a Fox looking through fox eyes at Scully. Get it.

I’m remembering bits from DD and GA’s commentary and how they were cheering him on in this moment. Someone should’ve told them this is Clone!Mulder.

More proof this man finds burrows in the unlikeliest places:

The manager says he installed those peeping tom hallways after 9/11, and yes that’s being used as an excuse but there’s supposed to be a joke behind it, right?

For instance: Rocky from Jose Chung’s From Outer Space took some political hits, but the jokes were funny and well-written. Here, they're either badly written or… someone’s directing these actors astray. And I know Clone!Mulder and innkeeper man are good actors because they’re doing their best selling this material. Things still feel wonky, unfortunately.

Mulder’s getting objectified again, Your Honor. He got closeted last episode, he’s “questioning” this episode, and he’s being stared at in his speedo. And he didn't mind one bit.

Innkeeper man’s got closets of his own, too. *badum tssssss*

HOW did Mulder’s phone get a picture of the Lizardman in his human form earlier? In the split-second he and Scully opened the potty stall before turning and continuing their search? I'll even grant that... but a CLEAR one?

Whatever, whatever, whatever.

Clone!Mulder’s patched his disbelief during the insomnia upgrade.

Clone!Scully unleashed a beast but still wakes up and stays up to hear him ramble. (Here’s the “my Mulder” line and the could-have-been-a-Knick’s-T-shirt moment.)

I do have another nitpick: why is Mulder diatribing here-- trying to convince Scully it’s a werewolf when she’s been saying monster or creature from the get-go? Is it the “werewolf” claim that he thinks she’ll rebut? Or?

I do like: Scully about to answer, then nearly smiling when Mulder cuts her off. Brilliant touch. Hats off to GA for that second of goodness.

“‘It defies every known law of nature’-- exactly, Scully, every known law of nature!”

Mulder, she’s agreed with this point since Herrenvolk. She kinda did a mini speech about it.

He doesn’t know how it came to be, but all he’s saying is, “it’s a MONSTER.”

She’s ready to go back to the Unremarkable House already, Mulder. She just needed you to nerd out over monsters.

Which… isn’t that actually the most Scully thing you’ve ever heard? Think about it: she wants to leave the Conspiracy behind, it’s eating her alive, she’s so sad and yadda yadda yadda. Darin says, “Hold up, this girl loves Mulder’s rants and raves” and makes her poke and prod him out of despair with a juicy creature case. And then (hopefully) reaps the benefits.

Girl’s got a mission.

And also, this doesn’t mesh at all with the Revival’s canon, but when has that stopped this crazy trainwreck?

Why’s Scully calling him watered-down-for-FOX’s-approval crazy when she’s been saying creature this whole time? Does she just… like arguing him? …That’s a stupid question, does she like arguing with him this much? …Again, that’s a--

Mulder spouts his theory, admits he stole stuff from another guy’s room, and tells Scully they can use his meds to track him down. “Well, that sounds like a good investigative plan.” In other words: “And you do so good at beach.”

Now Mulder wants to go peeping around the motel, for the lols.

Ken energy, I’m just saying.

Alsooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo not Mulder, sorry. He’d be curious, intrigued, perhaps roguishly amused by peeping tom corridors; but he’s never taken the time to search places inch-by-inch, top-to-bottom unless they directly related to the case. Is this a nitpick? Probably. But he’s flinging around broken FBI regulations left-and-right, carelessly reckless of all the rules and laws he’s breaking. Sure, Mulder’s a lawbreaker; but not to the extent that it would violate civilian rights. And even if it were fine, he’d be running off to the next lead instead of sticking around to snuffle through a useless one.

The “Lizardman stabbing himself in the mirror with green glass to break the curse, not realizing it’s him” story doesn’t… really…. Darin Morgan’s writing crackfic at this point.

Impotency jokes.

Ahhh, the middle ages: you end up questioning things about yourself or having to pop pills one way or another.

The comedy keeps failing, I think, because it’s trying too hard. This episode feels like a play (did I mention that earlier?) with dramatic pauses and etc. etc. Not really X-Filesy.

The psychologist prescribes Mulder a pill (because Mulder believes the Lizardman’s a lizard man), then pops the pill himself the second Mulder leaves… which meansssss he believed, too? Though he doesn’t?

I get he was supposed to be a crazy psychologist (ala Dr. Spiegel during the Johnny Depp trials), but, again, the comedy flopped.

“Horny toad lizard man” works at a smart phone shop OF COURSE. Because that’s soooooooooooo clever! Modernization, crises of humanity and identity, get it???

Weremonster’s not offensive, but it’s… I’m gonna be honest, it’s not clever, either.

Why does Scully wear her shirt open almost past her bra line now? Not shaming her, but that doesn’t seem a very Scully thing to do. I don’t know, maybe I’m overthinking things. It was just her style, her way, her self-expression; and it feels smudged and lost in this version of Clone!Scully.

At least she seems more naturally Scully, this episode. Which means she can only be natural in the funny episodes, huh.

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Mulder has a gold car? Mulder rented a gold car? There’s a gold car here that serves as middle-age-over-compensation commentary.

Mulder chastises Scully about the danger of approaching a dangerous suspect without backup then runs off, get it, ‘cuz that’s FUNNY.

I must have a heart of coal because I’m bored instead of tickled. It’s waaaaaaay better than being angry and tired, though, so.

“I’ll take it” is giving this experience too many brownie points, so I’ll use “I’m resigned”, instead.

Here we go, the part where the Lizardman voices Darin Morgan’s gripes with work culture (and I say that because Darin himself said he only works because he has to pay the bills. Which, fair enough, I suppose.)

Wait. Did Lizo Man go from a generic British to an Australian accent?

Guy tries to stage a cop suicide by green glass at Mulder’s hands and…. I’m sorry, this is kind of a fever dream. I can’t even unpack that logic for some bizarre reason.

Let me unpack that logic for some bizarre reason:

Psychologist tells Lizardman the story about breaking the curse by getting stabbed in the appendix.

It involves the realization that the Werelizard stares at himself in the mirror and realizes he’s the monster.

Does… does that prevent him from committing suicide? The psycologist’s instructions remain murky.

Lizardman’s fed up with existence. Decides enough’s enough and goes back to the cemetery.

Mulder walks up and tries to get him to unburden himself.

Lizardman tries to bait him into cop homicide by green bottle.

…How in the world did he think that would happen.

MULDER. LOST. HIS GUN. Which is probably a wink-and-nod by Darin of the good ol’ days when Mulder lost it constantly.

This Lizard’s gotta know who Mulder is at this point, and that Mulder would track him down and find him. That’s my prediction.

Mulder agrees to kill Guy Mann. Guy Mann calls him the only nice human he’s ever met. Of course cut back to Mulder’s face as he insists Guy tell him the whole story, first.

Scully has no idea where Mulder is, does she.

I knew the psychologist’s “other client thought he was a werewolf” would play into this. Heavy-handedly.

The stupid, perfectly placed bush when Lizardman woke the next morning. I can’t even be mad at it.

He took the not-nudist’s clothes, that explains things.

The dialogue’s also kind of… juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuvenile.

Lizardman leaped over the natural order of human life by talking mad game, and Darin glosses over the details with “humans are the best at that.” Ooooooookay.

Nope, that doesn’t work for me. Not if Lizardman joined a tech shop and got promoted to manager the next day.

I feel like Darin hasn’t hung around iphone shops much.

HE COMMITTED A MURDER BECAUSE HE ATE A COW IN A HAMBURGER. Really.

Was this lizard a vegetarian????? Because animals constantly break their own eating rituals if they’re hungry (deer eating baby birds, rabbits, and even human corpses, for example.) I doubt a creature of that size and strength existed only on vegetation, especially if there were food shortages during the natural course of its life (which happens in the wild.)

But NITPICK ASIDE, he ate his first cow.

…Why didn’t he go find a head of lettuce and chow down on it? Then realize he’s missing something, eat the chicken from the salad, then go on a meat-eating binge? That would have been kinda funny.

Oh, he’s an insectivore.

So, he’s a meat eater.

And he... uuuuuuuuuuuuugh--

Dude’s a protein eater via the carcases of other living things, not plants.

Dude didn’t have consciousness until he woke a man.

So it wouldn’t have mattered to Dude if he ate a cow, anyway, because he’s a carnivore and humans are omnivores.

So what gives?

“No one likes insects. Not even other insects.” SO INSECTS HAVE EMOTIONS, LIKES, AND PREFERENCES. YET, YOU ATE THEM. I don’t see sound reasoning for an ethical or moral stance here, Guy Mann.

Lizardman spent the rest of the day helplessly watching… porn. Just couldn’t help himself. Uh huh.

Dude, you were an animal YESTERDAY, with no association to human morays or social etiquette or guidelines or….

OH. That’s how the Scully scene plays into this.

But then that scene’ll be shot because it’s played for jokes-- males wanting to overexaggerate their knotch count-- rather than a very real reality of animals with zero morals when it comes to their procreation habits.

Let’s see if I’m right.

Guys, this would have been funnier and-- there’s that word again-- clever if Guy Mann lived like a caveman for a few days then overheard some humans talk about job, bills, and etc. spiraled, thinking he would be stuck as a half-human forever, and resigned himself to the fate of every other human (through the lens of his lizard brain, heh.)

It’s not supposed to be taken seriously, I know, but Darin always wrote plausibility into his previous scripts. This one feels like he didn’t try hard enough.

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO wow.

Guy went to a "witch doctor"-- oops, “a psychologist”-- but stopped taking his prescribed meds because “it just clouded my thoughts” TO WHICH MULDER NODS IN UNDERSTANDING.

Mulder gets it because, as an Oxford educated psychologist, he could diagnose the other psychologist (who shouldn’t be prescribing meds) as a wack job.

Mulder stopped taking his meds.

Which is what Scully asked if he’d done in the intro.

Which means his depression’s gone away without his meds.

Which means his depression’s either CURED, BOOM, or he never needed meds to begin with.

Which means Scully misdiagnosed him.

And left.

OR Mulder stopped taking them and was on depression med withdrawal in the beginning of this episode, hence his melancholia…?

‘Tis a mess.

Only time to be happy as a human is to spend time in the company of a non-human-- YOU’RE AN ANIMAL. YOU’RE NOT A HUMAN. YOU JUST LOOK LIKE ONE FOR TWELVE HOURS A DAY.

Also, Daggoo. Yup. There he is. Uhuh.

Scully was robbed of her first dog by an overgrown lizard and robbed from another overgrown lizard in return.

Daggoo was let out of the motel and ran off, and Mann felt crushing loss and grief (while looking not quite that) then ran into Mulder and Smarty K and ran to the toilet and got pap shot by Mulder and etc.

(Also, he ran into the werewolf dude; and Mulder knows the urge to “strangle him and eat his flesh” when it comes to villains and their villainy.)

Hokey. That’s how I would describe this episode. Inoffensive, but new Scooby Doo.

Wait, he threw his clothes off while witnessing the werewolf man eat another man (get it, it looked like animalistic sex) then but had them on again when Mulder ripped open the stall door and took his pants-down shot.

What.

Wait, Mulder’s up-to-date with transgender procedures and terms but not? familiar with gay bars?

What, did he subscribe to a Queer Life email subscription between episodes, or is that too new-fangled?

This episode doesn’t know what angle it wants to tackle for Clone!Mulder (forgot that nickname temporarily) and instead becomes a mix of everything at different strengths (that also change depending on which scene.)

HOW did Guy Mann not recognize Mulder after Mulder took a picture of him on the port-a-potty??? And stuck around to ask him some questions???

“That was me, actually.”

“I thought I recognized you!”

So. He… diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid?

OR it was a jackalope head on the wall?

No, wait, it wasn’t a jackalope, Guy Mann just misidentified the animal head on the wall-- and he’s “creeped out” by jackalopes ever since a friend got “gored” by them and GET IT, GUYS, THIS ALL LINKS BACK TO THE BASEMENT WHEN MULDER TALKED ABOUT MOTHMEN AND JACKALOPES.

I swear, Mulder’s just trippin or suffering withdrawals from his meds.

Scully said, “We have a creature case,” and he went home and dreamed this all up in a slime pit of sweat.

HIS DEAD FRIEND GEORGE.

SO THESE LIZARD PEOPLE HAVE NAMES????

THEN WHY’S HIS NAME GUY MANN?????????????????????????????????????

SO, they have friends and eat insects that have some form of consciousness and consider burgers to be cow murder.

I need to stop thinking seriously about this plot.

It’s pit stink Mulder thrashing around in his bed, smiling over speedos and peeping tom tunnels and Scully affectionately calling him crazy-- and that makes the most sense, honestly.

“I think my phone isn’t working right because guys don’t send me pictures of their junk on it.”

More evidence that this was written not by Darin Morgan but by his middle school aged doppelganger, Marin Dorgan, who split from his body during the stress of having to write for the Revival.

“Ever since I became a human, I can’t help but lie about my sex life.” Stupid. He’d need a Twitter account, first.

Mulder’s back to doubting because the entire story’s too silly. To be fair, I do like this beat; and it does align (if you squint at it) with his journey out of depression. BUT it is all too silly, so… kinda think Clone!Mulder’s got a point.

Mulder smiling over learning that Shakespeare called us all ignorant idiots is a nice touch which I shall now spoil: how did Guy Mann know that? Porn?

“Fox, man, you’ve gotta put me out of my misery!” Get it, Fox Mann, Guy Mann? Animals, GET IT.

“You wanted to arrest me for something I didn’t do. Who takes advantage like that? I’ll tell you: a human.” That’s the only comedic bit that landed, for me, and even then it was a lip twitch. His contained righteous indignation got through whatever made the rest of this the way it is! WHOO!

The guy goes stomping off yelling “Monster!” behind him at Mulder to drive his point home, which drives Mulder to drink.

“Mulder’s the monster, get it, because he doesn’t know what he is and is just willing to use other people for his own selfish ends?” the plot says, affectionately, with a giggle behind its hand.

This is the scene where he collapses by Kim Manner’s tomb, isn’t it.

ARE YOU KIDDING, MULDER HAS HIS THEME SONG AS A RINGTONE.

MULDER’S HIGH, THAT’S IT. HE’S HIGH OR OVERDOSING ON HAPPY DRUGS, THERE’S NO OTHER EXPLANATION.

Now that I know this is Ken Mulder’s delirium, it’s going to be interesting to draw unauthorized conclusions about his Alice in Wonderland hallucination.

Aww, look, it’s Kim Manners.

Mulder’s got his Patriarchy Pants' cheeks right on Kim’s face.

Me, ten minutes into the Revival: “Maybe I’m just a fool, Scully. Maybe I always have been.”

Can’t knock that line too much because it is a Mulder thing to think or say.

And it still fits into my delirium scenario, so.

Oh, Kumail’s been turned. Didn’t see that coming. The music’s suspenseful, too. That’s cool.

There’s no way Mulder should figure this out, but he probably will.

Oh, he didn’t.

That’s good.

Also, Scully’s: “Maybe I miss having a dog. And someone to hold my grudges for me,” could apply to her tendency to own dogs but it also might refer to Mulder who she let “curse God for a while” in her stead in IWTB.

Also, where was THIS scene hiding? It’s really good.

Ken Mulder’s hobbling, not running, to his car. ‘Kay.

Wait, Kumail's not a werewolf?

And Scully's got it all handled????

Wait, NO, that makes no sense. AND IT’S ALL EXPLAINED AWAY WITH “I’M IMMORTAL” what.

Scully went to the animal control shelter because she suspected Kumail was the murderer.

She lingered with her back to Kumail, letting him have home court advantage.

HE SLIPPED A NOOSE AROUND HER NECK.

That’s it, she’s doneso. She’s a 5’2” woman that’s as light as a bird, there’s no way she’s toppling a man, let alone one with a noose around her neck and has distance on his side.

Yes, I know this was because the transgender woman surprised Guy Mann with her punch, but that doesn’t translate to a stunning twist for Scully to also have the upper hand. She doesn’t have enough meat on her bones, and nowhere near the arm length to stop her attacker.

Did Guy Mann show up and interfere? Help her out in anyway? Did the dogs rush in and tackle him until she could get up?

IS SCULLY A DOG WHISPERER????? If so, why did Daggoo bite her????????

I will say: Kumail being the murderer really changes that one scene where he was sneaking up behind Mulder.

And also… the fact that he worked for an animal shelter, since he started with small animals.

WAIT, this is a normal animal control shelter, yes? That’s what Mulder yelled into his phone, anyway.

But… there were only dogs in the room when Mulder and the officers arrived.

So. Scully is a dog whisperer, or she tackled Kumail, loosed all the dogs before he got up, and pinned him (impossible) until the cops arrived. I guess. Or the dogs were loose to begin with.

Oh, and chickens.

Dogs and chickens.

Dogs. And chickens. And goats.

(Were ALL the animals loose??????)

Scully, the farm animal whisperer. A trait she must share with her Wyoming son.

Welp. There goes that scene.

Scully approached a dangerous suspect twice without backup (says Mulder, who was Kenning it out in the cemetery with the first dangerous suspect… and the second, if you count him running off and nearly getting offed by Kumail without his knowledge); and excuses it by saying Mulder needed “quality time” with his Lizardman.

“Besides, I’m immortal.”

That sounds like the prequel to another poor decision tattooed on your back, Scully.

Mulder’s not soothed by this pronouncement (obviously), but realizes “If Guy’s story was true--” and runs off into the woods. Again.

And Scully asks the dog if he wants to go home with her.

And I question. Why a dog. Why that dog.

You miss dogs but you didn’t have a tie to any particular dog. And this dog bit you.

Because he’s Plot Relevant Dog. I see.

“Woah, I’m not a reptile! That’s racist!”

No it’s not you silly, silly reptile with utterly unexplainable human knowledge and reflection.

Also, another motif of Mulder just standing there watching another guy undress, casually.

An aspect of Darin’s writing I hadn’t considered: Mulder knows Guy does odd things for a normal human; but also knows this is normal for Guy and just goes with it, for his sake. Like a good psychologist. Like a decent human.

But also, he has his limits.

Also, get it, Mulder’s a man outside mankind, too, who just needs to find himself again. Geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit?

“I want to believe,” Mulder says.

Mulder just needed someone to say they’re glad to have met him, they’re glad to have him in their life.

So.

I guess Scully hasn’t said those words yet.

Guy shakes his hand.

Mulder watches, stunned, as Guy runs off to hibernate for 10,000 years-- another hallmark of Marin Dorgan’s writing. Ha ha ha, a knee slapper, that one.

“Likewise,” Mulder whispers, overcome and disbelieving and renewed all in one.

A nice little heartfelt, cheesy, sincere ending.

CONCLUSION

What did I just watch?

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #Mulder and Scully Meet the Weremonster #React #A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try #Revival Reviler's first-time watch through #mine #Part III #Mulder #Scully #Revival #xfiles #x-files #the x files #first-time watch through #and there we go #xf meta #S10

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