#but now its with a twist because the literal universe is telling him to do better | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seeingivy · 1 year

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you belong with me

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: high school!au, gojo is a robotics nerd, reader is class president, emo nanami (my beloved), toji is ur shitass football playing boyfriend, typical cheesy highschool drama

an: tell me why posting this is giving me a tummy ache like I haven't posted for gojo in forever and now i think I suck at it :OOO anyways, please be nice to me about this and close your eyes if you hate it. also, totally reliving my high school days when I was senior class vice president (worst experience of my life) FDLJFKDSJFLS

You’re a hater. A self proclaimed, real-life, deep in your soul hater.

What do you hate today? Being class president.

You hate that you willingly ran, somehow won, had people up your ass all day about stuff that wasn’t in your control, and got stuck in the current situation you were in. Which was arguing with your boyfriend Toji, as you pace around your room and do your own fair share of screaming back.

“You just did that shit because you were pissed at me.”

“I did not, Toji. You know, not everything is about you. Other people needed the money and I put it where it was needed.”

“To the color guard team? Babe, no one gives a fuck about the color guard team. Everyone is at the homecoming game to watch the football team. Not a bunch of idiots waving flags in the air.”

“They’re also part of the game and all their equipment is broken. They need it more than you when you guys literally get donors and funding from the district and-”

“You’re just pissed about the sweetheart thing. That’s why you’re doing this shit and taking it out on everyone else.”

“Toji, I’m not even mad about-”

You’re met with the sound of ringing over the phone, signaling that Toji had enough and finally hung up on you. You flop straight onto your bed, pushing your face so hard into your pillow that sits uncomfortably against your nose and the smell of your laundry detergent makes its way to the crevices of your brain.

You hear a banging behind you and twist around to see Gojo pointing at his walkie-talkie, switching it on as you reach for yours. It’s still covered in glittery pink stickers from when you were seven, the silver coming off on your hand every time you grab it.

“Come in, bunny.”

“Loud and clear, Toru.”

He smiles, setting his hardware down - probably for another weird ass robot he was making - as he holds it up to his face, talking again.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just arguing with Toji, again. I’ll start allocating some of our funds to get you some sound proof windows.”

“Much appreciated, Madam President. That’s very generous of you.”

You laugh, dropping the walkie talkie to lift your fingertips to your temples, lightly massaging the pulsating under your skin.

“For what it’s worth, the color guard team is really grateful you did that for them. I know Utahime was so excited when the new flags came in, she was flipping them around on the field for hours.”

“That’s why it’s even more annoying. I know what I did was right, but he just doesn’t see it that way. Uta dragged me down to the field to watch them and their choreography looks so much better with the multicolored flags. They were really happy about it.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown?”

“Heavy is the head that’s dating Toji Fushiguro.”

He laughs as you switch your channel off, taking the last few seconds to study you before you draw your curtains. He can see the tension sitting in your shoulders and how clearly it hurts you to argue with Toji like this. And it infuriates him. That you even have to go to sleep angry and that the cause is the headass idiot you’re dating.

Toji Fushiguro is lucky, far more lucky than he realizes. Not for obvious reasons. Yeah, he’s a great football player and yeah, he’ll probably get scouted for some really good university at the end of the year. He doesn’t have a shortage of friends or intelligence and for all intents and purposes, he’s loved (which Gojo doesn’t understand at all).

He’ll probably be that scumbag that people see a few years down the line and then get infuriated at. Because if an absolute asshat like Toji Fushiguro can be successful, then truly all things have gone to shit. That the patriarchy is real, that society is broken, living proof that the asshole always wins and everyone else always loses.

But no, those are common reasons to hate Toji Fushiguro - ones he’s heard echoed by Suguru and Shoko every time he does something that pisses the two of them off. Like scream obscenities in the hallways, block their parking spots when they’re going to class, call them names when they walk by.

No. Toji Fushiguro is lucky because he gets to date you. Because out of the long list of girls he had to pick one, Toji just had to pick the one that was his. The girl he’s been in love with since he moved in right across the street and had a smiley neighbor excitedly waving at him through her bay window.

To him, love has always been the pigtail braids you used to wear everyday in the fourth grade, the matching walkie-talkies you bought him in sixth grade when he got grounded, and that sweet smile you’ve had since the first day he’s met you.

And when he sees those green curtains pulled against the bay window he’s stared at for years, where he’s loved you from for years, he lifts the walkie and says what he forgot to mention.

I love you.

Thanks to your gracious ride, you make it to school thirty minutes early. Your intuition - that Toji was ditching you as your ride to school this morning - was correct. Luckily, you made it in time just before class started.

Nanami’s already seated on the green bench outside the classroom, headphones plugged into his ears. As you walk up, you silently wonder how much hair gel it takes to keep his Gerard Way hairstyle in place.

“Hi Kento! How is my best friend doing on this fine morning?”

“We’re not best friends.”

“Sure we are!”

You reach forward and pinch his cheek in your hand, which he only swats off and rolls his eyes at. That’s how you know your best friends. Because if it was anyone else, Nanami would probably break their hand and walk away. But he always lets you tease him, because he know he loves you.

“Are you still fighting with that dog?”

“That dog has a name. And it’s Toji. And I’m not sure, he didn’t pick me up for school this morning.”

“Did he at least tell you he wouldn’t?”

“No. I was lucky enough that Satoru had walked Megs to the bus stop a little late and I was able to get a ride with him.”

Nanami looks over, narrowing his eyes at you, as the hallway starts getting crowded with people. And you know what he’s saying, what he’s been saying for the past few months.

“You know, it’s very normal to give your neighbor a ride when they need one. Not everything has ulterior motives, Kento.”

“That’s true. Everything doesn’t have ulterior motives. But he does. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me, Kento?”

“Like he’d kiss the ground you’d walk on.”

You roll your eyes, reaching up to mess up his perfectly styled hair. It doesn’t budge and you get a handful of minty smelling hair gel.

“As if.”

Like you’ve summoned him by bringing him up, Satoru’s sidestepping to where you and Nanami are sitting, Shoko and Getou in tow with him.

“Nanami~~ How’s my best friend doing?” Satoru says, bending over to totally obscure Nanami’s line of vision.

“Shut the fuck up, Gojo.” Nanami responds.

Nanami stands up, giving you a look, before he stalks away to his next class. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and Getou standing in front of your classroom.

“So. I hear you have a robotics competition?” you ask.

“Yeah. Next Saturday. We always practice our hardware out the night before, throw a little party in the lab. You should come.” Getou says, smiling at you.

Satoru smacks Getou in the stomach right after he invites you, clearly trying to tell him something with his eyes. And then when he catches you staring, he gives you a nervous laugh.

You get it. He doesn’t want you there.

“Don’t act too excited to see me now, Satoru. Anything more and I might think you like me.” you bite sarcastically.

“What? No, it’s not like that. I just-” Satoru stutters,

“So you don’t like me?” you say, smirking at him. Shoko and Getou are laughing, the tips of Satoru’s turning pink as he very adamantly tells you that he does indeed like you.

“I have stuff to set up for the homecoming game that day, so I won’t be able to. But I’ll try my best, yeah?”

“Okay. Next time?” Getou asks.

“Sure, Sugar-u. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?”

You give the three of them a polite smile as you trudge away, leaving to meet Toji at his locker and give him a piece of your mind for this morning. Which leaves Shoko and Getou to give Satoru the scolding of his life.

“Are you fucking stupid, Satoru? You made it seem like you didn’t want her there.” Shoko says, smacking him on the back of the head.

“I panicked! Plus, Haibara always likes to play Just Dance and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of her.” Satoru responds, rubbing the now sore spot on the back of his head.

“You’re hopeless, Satoru. She’s never going to like you if you keep rejecting her the way you do.” Suguru says, dragging him along to the robotics lab.

“She has a boyfriend. Who isn’t me. As if she would even consider dating me in the first place.”

And when the three of them pass you by the lockers, clearly getting yelled at by Toji, it only furthers their argument more.

“Yeah, I’m sure she really loves him, Satoru.”

Your argument with Toji hours prior simmers in your head, as you wait for the bus to arrive and for this godforsaken day to finally be over. You watch him pile into his car with Salma and the other boys from the football team, which only makes your anger fester more.

He’s doing this to piss you off. Of course, he’s doing this to-

“Need a ride?”

You look up and unclench your fists to find Satoru, sparkly blue eyes shining at you and a hand held out to you.

“Thanks.”

He leads you to his car, an almost demolished Honda Civic from his maniacal driving, and you climb in, immediately putting your head in your hands. You can feel him moving around you, the engine purring on and him backing out of the spot.

“About earlier. I don’t not want you to come to the robotics thing. I just thought it was awkward the way he asked you and I-I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come, you know? And I-I’d like it if you came too and so would the rest of us.” he rambles, a hand in his hair.

You look up, his ears tinted pink from the confession.

“I was just teasing you, Satoru. I’ll try to make it by, okay?”

He sighs, a clear breath of relief, and looks over to smile.

“Okay, cool cool cool. Now tell me why you and Toji are fighting.”

“When aren’t we fighting?” you murmur, pressing your head against the glass.

“But why?”

And when you look over, his blue eyes staring into yours, in earnest while the light is red, you unload it all.

“Do you know about the sweethearts thing they do at the homecoming game?”

“Uh. That’s when the cheerleaders wear the jerseys right. And then decorate the locker room or some shit for the players.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s not limited to cheerleaders. It usually is, but if you’re dating someone, that person can do it for you.”

“So I’m guessing Toji doesn’t want you to do it for him.”

“Not exactly. He was just saying that it’s more traditional for a cheerleader to do it since they’re also on the side of the track and he wants to see his name out there instead of running around, trying to make sure the game is running and all that.”

You slump into the chair as Satoru frowns, a pitying look in his eyes, as he keeps driving. You can’t help but watch him, his silhouette against the window - defined jaw, the slope of his nose.

He’s not the guy who ran away from kissing you in the eighth grade. He’s just ten times hotter.

You shake your head, letting the thought spill from your mind, as Satoru looks over.

“Jamoca?” he says, giving you a wide grin.

You can’t help but laugh, nodding as Satoru makes a sharp left turn, making his way to the ice cream shop.

Jamoca is your favorite ice cream flavor. Coffee, layered with fudge and almonds, became a proclaimed favorite when Satoru dragged you once in the sixth grade. After very sorely losing the class president battle, you moped in your room for five days - even going as far as borrowing one of Nanami’s My Chemical Romance vinyls to truly and properly mope.

On day three of blasting the vinyl, Satoru called enough and dragged you to the closest ice cream store, claiming it was the closest thing to therapy that you normies could afford. Since then, any bad day was easily solved with two things.

Jamoca and Satoru.

When you make it to the store, Satoru’s excitedly dragging you out of the car, his hand pressed in yours as you both run into the store, giggling while you order your single scoops. And when he drags you out to the curb and you sit there, you silently think to yourself why you ever stopped doing this in the first place.

Satoru leans over, digging his chocolate fudge covered spoon into your cup, before talking.

“So. If you guys fight so much, why are you still dating?”

“Dunno. Feels weird to initiate a breakup, I guess. I can’t see myself doing it.”

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart?”

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart.”

You kick the pebbles into the broken parts of the pavement, leaning your elbows on your knees.

“I don’t know, Toru. I guess he was just the first guy who ever liked me back and then I….spent so much time in the relationship and trying to make it work that it feels weird to let it go now.”

Satoru swallows hard, eyeing his melting ice cream, as he ponders the best response. Because in earnest, he has two options. Support you or be selfish. Support you to stay with Toji, to do what you’ve been doing because he knows it’s what you want. Or be selfish. Tell you that he you deserve better, that he could be that for you if you just let him.

He reaches over, flicking you in the forehead.

“Ouch, asshole.”

“You’ve got a really big brain in there. And you always have. You’ll figure out the right thing to do, just give it time.”

And when you give him a halfhearted smile, reaching over into his cup for a bite of his ice cream, he lets it go.

He can’t be selfish. Not when it comes to you anyways.

After running around all day, you give yourself thirty minutes to go to Satoru’s robotics thing. After triple checking the microphones work, the yearbook team has access to the field, the glitter has been set out for everyone trickling in, and that everyone who could possibly need your phone number has it, you speed run to the other side of campus, to the robotics lab.

And when you make it, the five of them - Haibara, Nanami, Shoko, Getou, and Satoru - are in the room playing Just Dance. Shoko’s sitting on top of the desk, flippantly moving her remote in the air, while Satoru quite literally is trying to give it all he’s got - and losing apparently.

You lightly push the door open, which stops the two of them in their tracks, and you’re met with some very excited cheers as they all drag you into the room. You take a seat next to Nanami, giving his cheek a pinch, which he hates.

“You’re Haibara, right?”

“You know who I am?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re friends with Nanami and Nanami and I are best friends.”

“No we aren’t.” responds Nanami, now sulking two seats away from you.

“Are too.”

You throw the nearest object, a pencil at Nanami, as you turn back to Haibara and laugh.

“I like your shirt. Flight of the Navigator is a really good movie.”

You see Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru’s eyes widen in the back at your words and hear a considerable amount of groaning from Nanami behind you. And after twenty minutes, you find out why.

Haibara really, really loves Flight of the Navigator. Almost too much. In earnest, you barely remember the movie - at most, maybe the weird little alien companion he has. But here Haibara is, reciting the cast, the directors, acting out the scenes and it’s clear to you that you’ve tapped into some monster they all keep hidden.

Luckily for you, Satoru comes to your rescue.

“Okay, Haibara. I’m going to steal her for you for some Just Dance.”

“I don’t Just Dance Satoru.”

“Oh yeah? You’re just saying that because you know you’re going to lose.”

You scoff, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“As if, sweetheart. I distinctly remember you banning us from ever playing that game together after I beat you in the fifth grade.”

“You’re rusty. Maybe we’ll start with something easy. Like Rasputin.”

“I could do Rasputin in my sleep, bitch.”

“Prove it.”

You roll your eyes as you march over to the front, where they’re projecting the game onto the screen. And just for posterity’s sake, you take Satoru’s sunglasses from where they were flipped over on the desk and put them on, effectively blinding yourself from the screen.

And when the songs start, you can hear them all laughing behind you, Satoru and you hurling insults at each other as you dance on. And somewhere around the middle, you’re sure Satoru must be losing because he grabs your hands and suddenly he’s swinging you around in the air, his hands on your waist as you laugh.

And when you take your blindfold off and the song dies down, Satoru wins by five points.

“You asshole. You literally cheated, Satoru.”

“Did not. You’re just a sore loser, bitch.”

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“Every night, sweetheart.”

You put the palm of your hand in his face as you push him away, moving to sit on the desk. He joins you, the two of you now watching Haibara and Nanami have a very one sided dance battle.

After forty-five minutes, Satoru’s phone buzzes three times and the smile on his face drops when he checks. You place your hand on his, squeezing twice before asking.

“You okay?”

“Huh. Oh, yeah. I-I think you should go to the field. Right now.”

“Wait, what? But you hate that kind of-”

He grabs your hand, dragging you out, as you both start running to the field. You keep asking as he pulls you on, getting almost no response and only a faster pace.

And when you reach the field, you catch just the end of it and the only thing grounding you to that moment is Satoru and Utahime, who was surely the one who had texted Satoru, holding onto your shoulders.

Salma, the cheerleader Toji picked to be his sweetheart, just asked him to homecoming during halftime. And he said yes.

Utahime squeezes your hand three times, a soft look in her eyes when she talks.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just thought you would want to know and I wanted to tell you because you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You smile, moving into her open arms as you whisper a small thank you into her shoulder. She leaves, having to return to the color guard team waiting for her on the side, leaving you and Satoru standing on the pavement right by the field.

“Take you home?”

“Thanks, Toru.”

“You want Jamoca?”

“Not today.”

He nods, a hand on the small of your back, as he leads you to his car, even going as far as opening the door for you and letting you crack the windows while you drive back - which you know he hates.

At the first red light, he taps on the top of your head to get your attention.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“What? Of course, not. Toji is just an asshat who doesn’t see you for what you’re worth and-”

“No. No, no. Not like that. Do you think there’s something wrong with me because I’m not even the tiniest bit sad right now? I’m…relieved.”

Satoru looks over, the red front the traffic light flashing on your face, and a blank expression staring back at him.

“Of course, not. He’s a grade one idiot. Anyone in your position would feel that way, bunny.”

“I know. That’s true.”

“But?”

“Does this make me defective, Satoru? Like, maybe I just can’t like people that much or something and I was the problem.”

Satoru twiddles his thumbs on the steering wheel, pondering the same question he has been asking for the past few days. Encourage her or be selfish.

He can’t be selfish with you.

“Okay, Y/N. Close your eyes.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay.”

He looks over, to find you eyelids fluttering shut, your face lit up by the streetlights outside.

“Now. Tell me about your dream guy, bunny.”

“What are you going on ab-”

“Just do it.”

You sigh, before thinking hard about his question.

“Someone I can be comfortable with. That’s my type. Like we can have fun together and play games but also being around them is comforting to me. Things might suck, but at least they are there to kind of pick me up at the end of the day. They’re nice to people and are surrounded by good company, because you are who you love and they try to be better each day.”

After finishing, you open your eyes to find Satoru staring at you, an all-knowing look on his face.

“Bunny?”

“Toru?”

“Does that sound anything like Toji to you?”

You slump back into your chair, sinking down.

“No.” you murmur.

“You aren’t defective. Well, maybe in the higher level cognitive thinking part because you clearly have some impaired decision making but-”

“Hey. Don’t be rude, asshole.”

“Get out of the car.”

You crane your head out the window to see you’re in fact not at your house, but at the ice cream store. And when he comes around to your side of the car, opening your door, he drags you out, the two of you eating you ice cream in the light of the dingy lamp outside the store.

You knock hard on your window, only stopping when Satoru looks up from his desk, dropping the pencil he was just scribbling with. You point to your walkie talkie, switching on the channel as he grabs his.

“Hi bunny. You look nice.”

“Thank you. Are you coming tonight?”

To homecoming. Because despite all odds and last night, you still have to go. And crown the homecoming king and queen since you’re the class president, which you’re sure will be Salma and Toji since the universe is very, very kind to you.

“I’m sorry. Haibara needed help designing something for next week.”

“Oh. Okay. I wish you were.”

“I wish I was too. His hardware is Flight of the Navigator themed so wish me luck.”

You laugh, giving him one last smile as he pulls the curtains to his window. And when you see his navy windows against the pane you’ve stared at him through for years, it only now occurs to you.

When he asked you to describe that last night, he unlocked something. Bringing it to your attention, to the forefront of your mind.

The person you were describing is him. You lift your walkie talkie to your mouth, press the button, and mention the words you forgot to say.

I love you.

And then you turn on your heel and drive yourself to the dance.

Satoru ponders it for thirty minutes.

Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish.

Be fucking selfish.

Satoru gets up, dropping the hardware he was making for Haibara, and pulls out the first suit he can find. He grabs his walkie talkie off his desk, convinces Megumi to go beg your mom (who loves Megumi) for your walkie talkie, and then goes ninety on the freeway to get to the school on time.

He finds Nanami first, the glob of gel on his head somehow even worse than normal and sets his plan in motion.

“Nanami.”

“Please, for the love of god, not tod-”

“Go hand this to Y/N.”

Nanami and now Shoko are taking the walkie in their hands, flipping it over and inspecting it like they’re the fucking FBI. And more importantly, wasting time.

Three feet away, you’re standing by the punch table, counting how many balloons are on the ceiling. You reach three hundred and fifteen when you’re approached for the first time that night, by Nanami and Shoko.

“Nanami. What is going on with your hair? You can’t possibly need that much hair gel.”

“You would be shocked, Y/N.”

“That's what I said to him too. But this is for you.” Shoko says.

She hands you your walkie talkie, the silver glitter coming off on your hand, as you flip it over.

“Did you break into my house, Shoko?”

“No. But I’m guessing Satoru did. He ran in here five minutes ago and basically yelled at us to give it to you.”

They both shrug as they walk away and you look around, clutching the walkie talkie so hard in your hand you think you might break it. Satoru’s here.

And when you scan your eyes around the room, you see him at the front door, his eyes already fixed on yours. He’s smiling so big that it makes your heart squelch and suddenly you’re moving towards him. And as you both start walking (running) to each other, you can’t help but feel the anticipation of what’s coming.

Except that’s right when Toji stands in the middle of the two of you, his characteristic slimy, sneer on his face. He reaches for your hand first.

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

"No."

You shrug your hand off, pushing right past him, as you walk closer to Satoru. You can hear Toji shouting something at you, but you’re too tunnel visioned on Satoru to pay attention. And when you reach him, you’re both smiling so big at each other, that it makes your face hurt.

He lifts his walkie talkie to his mouth, talking first.

“Come in, bunny?”

“Loud and clear, Toru.”

“I love you.”

You can feel yourself smiling so big, so excited that you’re basically jumping on your toes, your walkie shaking in your hand.

“I love you.”

“Oh thank god. I was scared I was going to get a breaking and entering charge.”

You laugh, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him square on his face. And when he pulls away, ears pink and face red, you whisper against his lips.

“It was always going to be you. I belong with you.”

He smiles, that stupid smile you’ve stared at, loved for years and you can’t help but cheese, leaning forward to kiss him again.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

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ghost-bxrd · 5 months

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You know, just read that prompt about Timmy quietly accepting his own death at Jason's command...

I kinda want the opposite.

I want a furious, yelling, fighting Tim, with a major broken pedestal as far as Jason is concerned.

Okay, he can get why Jason blames him, for taking the Robin suit. And maybe Bruce deserves a bit of it too.

But what he absolutely can't and won't forgive is Jason going after Dick. Especially since Dick forgives it so readily, since Dick is the one pleading for forgiveness.

Tim was there. He saw what Jason's death did to all of them. And he can't believe Jason would ever doubt Dick, that Jason would turn up to hurt him worse.

Tim being like... "You know, all the time I was trying to keep them from killing themselves, I kept telling myself, telling them, that you wouldn't want them to hurt like that. But you wanted it, didn't you? Want it. You never wanted them to heal. You never wanted them to move on. Maybe, if you had come back then, come back when B was trying to get himself killed, when Dick was catatonic curled up on your grave and trying to starve himself to death, maybe you'd have been happy at last? Or would you have decided that isn't enough either? Not enough punishment for not making you his absolute top priority for once, just once, in his life?"

And Tim going "I hate you. But I'll pretend to love you, because everyone knows Dick will choose you anytime. And I daren't leave him at your mercy."

I want post-Red Hood Jason working to earn Tim's forgiveness and trust again.

Oh yes, that’s also an interesting take! And one that (I think) comes closer to how he would react in canon. Tim is a spitfire and we love him for it 💚

And while I definitely want to explore this version of him eventually, I think it wouldn’t tie into how the Owl Song verse is set up.

Although if Owl Song does get its continuation, I think there would be some struggling on Tim’s part. Not for himself (never for himself) but for Dick and Bruce. A struggle to make Jason understand that nobody ever wanted to replace him.

In this universe, Tim wouldn’t be able to scrounge up the anger that would result in him hating Jason. Jason did too much for him to do that. He brought Tim into the family fold. Without Jason, Dick would have never accepted him. Jason, though it wasn’t his intention and he genuinely loved Tim, built the stepping stone that resulted in Tim becoming Robin.

Because any other kid trying to be Robin after Jason? Dick wouldn’t have stopped his mad pursuit for anything. Tim having “hatchling” status (ie family) is literally what saved him.

If you look deeper than surface level, the Owl Song verse is pretty twisted in its own way. And Dick could very quickly become a real monster if nobody keeps him grounded at least somewhat. With Jason gone and Bruce being someone Dick now borderline despises— yeah, it’s very lucky that Jason met Tim in school and went “must protect” and had Dick pick up on that. 🦉

#sorry I’m not very coherent rn I think my brain is sorta fried oops #owl song #very dark in its own way #altho we mostly see the happy parts #but the codependency between Jason and Dick is potentially terrifying #the depths of which Bruce is only now starting to grasp for real #talon dick grayson #Jason todd #Tim drake

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jwirecs · 2 years

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Recommended BTS Fics of January 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my bts recs of january! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Break The Ice ( pt2 ) || @yoonivy🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ There are three rules to become an official Puck Bunny: 1. You have to love hockey. No exceptions. 2. You have to had slept with at least three hockey players. Starters, no benchwarmers. 3. And most importantly, have fun! (oh child that ending. oh sweet mother lord.)

Perhaps Love || @mangowillow💕💔✅

↳ for as long as you can remember, you have been in love with your childhood friend turned roommate, but jeon jungkook remains oblivious even when he comes to comfort and help you sleep every night.

Cupid’s On Holiday || @persphonesorchid🔞💕💔✅

↳ You don’t get it, you’re a damn catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re smart, you’re tidy, hell you’d give up your own kidney to a homeless guy if he needed it that bad. So what the issue? Failed relationships, blind date after blind date, and now your friend’s competitive archery teammate is telling you he’s Cupid here to help you find your one true love. You’re not that desperate. He could take those golden arrows and shove ‘em.

University Superstar ( pt2 ) || @jungkookstatts🔞💕💔✅

↳ Jeon Jungkook is your University’s biggest rock-star-athlete-hot guy. It literally prides itself on his attendance at the school — walking around with his “big name” (captain of the lacrosse team), tattoos, and rude, jock-like personality. You hate him. You hate that he can’t apologize for being a complete asshole. But what you don’t hate is how he visits your office every day. You also don’t hate that your feelings for him are crawling back into your system…

Are You Ready, Angel? || @gukkieslover🔞💕💔🔄

↳ jus your first time with sweetheart boyfriend koo, some plot there and could maybe be a series if people like it enough?? (link is to their masterlist!)

In Plain Sight || @bangtanstanst💕✅

↳ A secret relationship isn’t exactly easy to hide, especially not when you work together – and when you make the most of some alone time during a grocery run, you get a little careless. A little too much so, perhaps.

Jealousy || @ryulvrsblog 💕✅

↳ Jungkook brings his pretty girlfriend to a meet up with his old college friends who oc has never met before, normally oc would shy away from social interactions like these, but when she sees a girl taking interest in her boyfriend, oc decides to take matters into her own hands. oc gets jealous and kisses jk twice, jk is in shock at his girlfriends bold actions, jk gets a little possesive too

Jealousy 101 || @bluewhale52🔞✅

↳ Yoongi posts his Hip Hop 101 video on BangtanTV and shakes his booty for all Army to see. Unfortunately he forgets that ONE person gets dibs on first viewing.

Letting Off Steam || @wnderkoo 💕✅

↳ a bad day on track has jungkook storming off and disappearing. where else would one find him but in the comforting arms of his loving girlfriend?

Clingy || @bonny-kookoo🔞💔🔄

↳ In which Jungkook is a professional hybrid heat-partner who just wants to do his job (ngl i might have to read this one again because i forgot how it went)

Human || @angelicfangz🔞💕💔🔄

↳ humanity is evil it can be something so twisted but it has its honey gems. It has people so sweet that your teeth hurt. You had those people and you messed it up resulting in you losing them but what happens when you find yourself in a hybrid sanctuary by the same people who made you feel what you've always wanted, human.

Wait, Little Rabbit || @bangtanflirt 🔞💕💔🔄💯

↳ You, a meek little bunny hybrid, find family amongst six predator hybrids and their lovely human caretaker.

Candy Cane || @oneofthemillionarmy💕💔✅💯

↳ SUMMARY LINE: CHRISTMAS PROMPT #19: CHARACTER A DOESN’T FEEL THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT BUT CHARACTER B, WHO LIVES ABOVE THEM, KEEPS PLAYING CHRISTMAS CAROLS REALLY LOUD.

Entombed || @97erstan🔞💕💔✅

↳ (no summary but fighter!jk + drama???? yes pls)

Hooking || @mapofthesea 🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ The home opener of hockey season is crazy for everyone, but when star defensemen Kim Taehyung takes a specific interest in you, who are you to turn him down?

How Many Things || @myg-butterfly💕💔✅

↳ Yoongi invites you out to a party with him, and in trust, you say yes. But what happens when you lose him in the crowd, just to find him again with someone else by his side? In the midst of panic and longing, you wonder how many things he thinks about before he gets to you.

Motor Head || @jeonjcngkook 🔞💔✅

↳ jungkook doesn’t like seeing someone else have your attention, so he decides he’s gonna do something about it.

Much Better || @yoonivy🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ On a night out with your girlfriends to let loose and forget about your ex, you meet a man that you are instantly attracted to, like magnets on the dance floor. But he reminds you way too much of the one that broke you heart… Can Kim Taehyung prove to you that he is not like your ex at all?

Pink Sapphire || @jiminrings💕💔✅💯💯💯

↳ having jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he’s easy to love. your relationship’s perhaps become so easy that jungkook doesn’t think sometimes — and that’s what makes it the easiest for you to hate him. alternatively, you and jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.

Placebo || @bangtangalicious 🔞💕💔🔄

↳ a scientific compatibility test matches you with your soulmate, except he's everything you hate and you're everything he stands against.

Camboy!Tae Mini Series || @hisunshiine 🔞💕💔✅

↳ Give me all of your love, gimme something to dream about. KTH is your favorite camboy, and as a loyal subscriber, you are chosen to test out some new features on the platform he uses to go live. He’s really good at selling his viewers a dream, and as a thanks to a new milemark he’s hit on the platform, he’s choosing one winner to get their fantasy scene. (summary is of the first part! and i fully enjoyed reading this)

I See You || @i-am-baechu🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ The L/N family has always been different from other families. For starters, they see ghosts. Y/N hated this gift but as she grew older, she became used to it. Through her college years, she hasn’t seen that many ghosts but that was because they all left alone after her breakdown towards an upcoming test. When one of her classmates has a ghost attached to him, she realizes she needs to get rid of the ghost because it was starting to annoy her with the constant talking and poking her head. How come she never noticed his smile or his bright brown eyes before?

Do check out all of the other BTS Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

#bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts strangers to lovers au #bts friends to lovers au #bts hybrid au #bts mafia au #bts established relationship au #bts enemies to lovers au #bts fic recs #bts recs

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quartzdawn · 6 months

Text

Went on google search, typed in 'Ugigiugi' just to analysis her tracing again, and accidental found her ancient Egyptian Mythos art. Apparently either Ugigugi or someone else relogged them on Pinterest and because of that they are now forever frozen there as a memory of a person who is no longer on the internet (and thank god for that).

I was happy to actually find these because I genuinely need to see what these looked like, as when looking at the tracing PDF file that @/Twistedpometea made and seeing a few select of the Egyptian mythos art there, I noticed that if you go to her Deviantart (the only social media she has left) the Ancient Egyptian stuff was the only thing that was completely 100% deleted. you can't find any of the art for it other than on google.

Moving on to an actual topic, while looking at this art wise, not only can you tell that a mass majority of this art is traces of Leona from Twisted wonderland, but the designs are straight up nearly stolen from the Webtoon Ennead (Another place she also traced from in a few of her works). Her Seth is literally a hybrid of the Ennead Seth and Leona from TWST mixed together to make some hybrid child.

I'm assuming she decided to make this "beautiful' decision so that she can easily trace fanart of both Leona and Seth instead of actually have to draw anything at all from scratch.

Anyway, thought this was interesting because my closing suspicion of her possible being homophobic keeps growing because this is apart of the several pieces of work were she replaced a male character in a MalexMale relationship (whether its fanart or official original art) with her female self insert to serve a heterosexual perspective. This time being a more sever case.

If no ones ever read 'Ennead' it is strictly considered a boy love story. Seth (god of war in Egyptian mythos) is seen having several romantic and sexual relationship with men. Specifically the god Horus. Its-- the story is a lot, but the main point is that this series doesn't have many hetro elements to it.

In Ugigugi's version she keeps Seth, gives him Leona's personality (kind of), and then replaces Horus with her Self insert Julia. The stories are nearly the same from what I can gather and all she did was erase the more graphic and horrid parts of the story to create a more fluffy 'gentle' perspective of the relationship. Almost in a way to spite the Ennead version of the story which has a much darker storyline to it.

Funniest part of this all? She's drawn Ennead fanart before so I genuinely do not get why she thought she was going to get away with this.

(LMAO love how in these pieces to not make it clear that she took heavy, and I mean HEAVY inspiration, from Ennead she just changed the art style. Just because the designs [which were probably also taken from other sources] are different doesn't mean that the tracing of the characters aren't obvious)

Now the only thing I want to know is why she mass deleted all of the Egyptian artwork she did and not the obviously traced Twisted Wonderland work that's still on her DeviantArt. is the author of Ennead more threatening with copyright striking? Was the universe she created actually co owned with another user and the other didn't want to participate anymore after realizing she was a tracer? Was she accused of something like racism ? Its odd for sure. if anyone knows comment or reblog because I think its really strange.

(also in the process of making this I found more of her ancient Egyptian mythology art so will make another post. Apparently its being sold on those weird scam sites that sell things for expensive prices. Apparent they think many of this work is worth 24USD. )

#ugigiugi #tw:ugigiugi #twst drama #cw: ugigiugi #twst discourse #tw: homophobia #tw: racism

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whumble-beeee · 28 days

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hiiiiiii bee

im so fucling curious what the backstory is behind deeby and lana omg. meant to send a more coherent ask but post work braincel decrease is hitting me hard. also the dutch petname thing scared tge fuck out of me the first time.

ps this is also thw first time ive anon named myself

love - 🌿🚫 anon

God, mood about the post-work braincells. Also, I mean this with so much love, but it means so much to me that I managed to scare the shit out of you with that lol. He gets. Just so much worse. Let's just say everyone in my discord servers I introduce him to universally hate him with a passion. Get ready.

ALSO technically parts of Declan and Lana's backstory are giant spoilers, including what will be one of the bigger plot twists, so I can't tell you just yet. HOWEVER, what I can do is reiterate and highlight things I've already said in-story, plus what's gonna be revealed soon when I actually upload her character profile lol. All that under the cut.

So the first time you really first start hearing about Lana is in Chapter 7, where we also meet Vaughn for the first time. In that, we learn that 1. Declan and Lana are ex boyfriend and girlfriend. As in they actually used to date. 2. Lana is Declan's boss now in some capacity (and was the one to order Stan's kidnapping), and 3, Declan fkn hates Lana. So much more than he hates Vaughn.

In Chapter 8, we learn that 4. Vaughn and Lana are currently dating. That's not really too relevant, but it's really funny to me because their relationship is... something. I'm sure you can imagine. It's very mutually manipulative and they both know it, its awesome.

Anyway, then in Ch. 9, through Stan and Deeby's yelling match, you learn that Declan and Lana's relationship is complicated and he refuses to talk about it, but 5. he's kinda obligated to do whatever Lana says or face unspecified consequences.

Skip to Chapters 11 and 12, the ones with Marcus at the convenience store getting harassed, where we first meet Lana in person. We learn a lot about her, mainly that she 6. acts pretty bubbly and ditzy but is actually pretty smart, 7. is completely fine with SA, 8. is manipulative as hell, 9. feels safe enough to fuck with Declan's plans because despite how much we know Deeby to exert his will over others, he wont do shit to stop her. and 10. The big one: she was the one to give Declan his burn scars (with acid btw. everyone in the story has a weapon of choice, bc superhero lol. Lana is injectable poisons, gasses, acids, etc.). This is mostly just something you could assume, but when she gave him that burn scar, that was the turning point when Lana started manipulating Deeby.

Chapter 15, it's mostly just more of the same, Lana telling Deeby to keep Stan for longer, and Deeby can't argue back, he hates Lana but he has to do what she says, whatever.

So, to put it all together for you: Lana has Deeby under her thumb for some reason. She acts fake, she's manipulative, she's relatively smart, and she dated Declan which means she would get to know some of the more intimate details about him that she could blackmail him with. Also something happened between them where she literally burned him with acid, and now she is his boss (she's the CEO of Supramed Corp. actually, which would be revealed whenever I get around to posting her character profile lol) and makes him do bounty hunting jobs as well as basically whatever she wants. That's what we know so far.

You'll learn more about Lana as a person as well as the nature of their relationship as time goes on, and a lot of Declan's behavior has been partially shaped because of her. There's a lot more to her that hasn't been uncovered yet, although the context clues are all there in the story. I just pointed out the specific ones that relate to Deccy.

Also, one last thing to leave you with. I focus a lot on eye color in this story, it's always very important, it tells you a lot. Lana has bright blue, sky blue type eyes. Can you maybe think of another time I've described a character with eyes like that?

(also if you have any questions feel free to ask in another ask or the comments lol, idk if any of this is even comprehensible)

#thanks for the ask!#gah this got so long lmao #I'm just like that a lot i don't know why #God I love this story #theres just #SO many things about it that I've laid the groundwork for #and I'm finally starting to get to the point where I can start to full some of the triggers on my chekov's guns #theres more to come though #characters I haven't introduced yet #its gonna be glorious #but obviously I love talking about my characters so if you have more questions!#Id be happy to oblige!#sorry for leaving so much up in the air but I hope my answer was at least somewhat satisfactoy #also you reminded me I need to upload Lana's damn character profile lmao #so thanks for that!#🌿🚫 anon #(un)official guide #bee talks

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astranite · 7 months

Text

Limp

John and Virgil!!! The whole range of hurt/comfort, angsting and fluff though leaning rather towards comforty. Scott also sneaks in for a good bit at the end. And there are hugs. Also there is autistic John and Virgil which it isnt about but its very there :)

This started off from the first line from a tumblr prompt from @aliceinwhumperland and the idea from @katblu42 to have John being the one limping then it grew from there!!! Minor warning for injury and medical stuff. Also that this reached 6k words!!

---

"You think you're hiding it, but I can see that limp from space."

Virgil leaned closer to his comm, giving John a prime view of dark, angular done-with-this-shit eyebrows.

John definitely didn’t panic. He just didn’t want the totally needless scrutiny of a medic brother all up in his business. Or asking questions like, ‘What did you do to yourself this time?’

“What limp?” he replied. He could play it off as obtuse and then no one had to ever to find out.

Virgil gave a Scott-worthy facepalm. “Do I have to worry about a concussion too?”

Okay maybe that was too obtuse. But he was running on few hours of sleep, back to back rescues and no bloody breakfast so who could blame him.

“I’m fine, Virgil.” John rolled his eyes.

Virgil didn’t dignify that with a response.

Well then, John could prove it. Ignoring the ache in his left foot and that the last time he tried this was probably what had gotten Virgil’s suspicions on him in the first place, he twisted through the central hub of Five to the entry to the gravity ring.

Lowering himself carefully in what was usually a thoughtlessly graceful manoeuvre, he landed on his feet in the grav ring, a triumphant, “See, I’m perfectly fine,” already on his lips. Except as soon as his left foot touched the ground with his weight on it, a sharp stab shot through it.

He couldn’t hold back the painfully obvious wince. Or the sudden gasp.

Virgil’s disappointment was another blow. “And here I thought I had one sensible brother. How did it happen?”

Mechanism of injury, a completely ordinary question for a medic to ask. One he’d compliantly answered for many accidents, even ridiculous earthside ones such as, ‘Fell over again and it’s all gravity’s fault.’ But up here he was meant to be in his element.

John crossed his arms stubbornly, wobbling on one foot.

“Couldn’t say.”

“Johnny.” Virgil was exasperated by now.

“Definitely not telling you anything if you call me that.”

“Johnathan Glenn Tracy.”

“Nope. That’s not even my name.”

“John.”

“Congratulations, you figured it out,” John spat.

Virgil looked taken aback.

A lump rose in John’s throat.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a shit day.”

He could feel his face growing as red as his hair with shame. It would definitely be visible over holograms. To make it worse, Virgil was probably as exhausted as he was. The last rescue had been nasty, earthquakes so often were, and Thunderbird Two had been on several more before that. He didn’t deserve to have to deal with John’s sarcastic, bitchy attitude as well.

John admitted defeat and hopped over to the wall to hold onto a grab bar to keep his balance and take the weight off his foot. And resisted the urge to bang his head against it because that sort of thing had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

His foot was throbbing, Virgil’s expression was soft because he’d already forgiven him and John was just over it all.

“Please promise you won’t laugh.” He couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else, no matter how unlikely it was that Virgil would.

“Alright, I promise. I’m not going to judge you, John.”

“I kicked a wall,” John mumbled, “On purpose, because I got mad that the bagel dispenser wasn’t working and a call came in so there was no time to fix it and I couldn’t sleep last night and I’m stressed about literally everything and just wanted a fucking bagel but clearly that was too much to ask of the universe!”

John shut his mouth with a clack. The words had come out in a torrent rising in volume that he couldn’t hold back. Over such a stupid thing too.

When John could finally bring himself to glance up from the stars beneath the floor outside, Virgil’s gaze held nothing but empathy.

“You’re right, it has been a pretty shit day.”

John nodded quietly.

Virgil continued, “Just— John, you know you don’t have to hide stuff like that from us, from me, right? We’ve all done stupid things in anger before and probably will do so again. That big, blue splodge of paint on my studio wall? Yeah, I chucked a paintbrush at it because a painting wasn’t working out and I was frustrated and it was three am after a string of bad rescues and I lost it a bit.”

Huh. John hadn’t known that. Virgil was usually least likely to blow up as far as it went.

“Point is, you’re not alone in this. Tracy temper, remember? We’ve all got it and we are all working out how to work with it. But it isn’t an excuse to conceal an injury that might need treatment even if it seems like it, ‘Should be fine,’ or ‘Isn’t that bad,’ or you think it’s caused by something stupid and you’re worried about us judging you. Because we won’t.”

John took a deep breath and let it out through his teeth.

He wasn’t even getting lectured at for being an idiot, or having it brushed off as nothing because, ‘Red heads and their tempers, y’know,’ or plain old being yelled at because, ‘John, you’re meant to be better than this.’

Virgil cared about him. That was simple fact.

So John cooperatively answered Virgil’s questions about pain, the range of motion he had and when exactly had the injury occurred this morning. That he couldn’t bear weight on it was pretty telling something was wrong. And it really did hurt.

“You’re going to need to come down here so I can get x-rays of that foot,” Virgil said apologetically.

John bit back the wave of disappointment, along with the accompanying urge to snap and snarl.

“I know.”

He really didn’t want to go back to earth and deal with everyone’s concern and fussing when he just wanted to ignore them and go to bed. Up here on Five no one was close enough to be affected by his moods unless they put in a comm call which he could, as above, ignore.

But John dutifully transferred control over to Eos and the island, packed his bag because he’d probably be there for a while but he wasn’t going to think about that and loaded himself into the space elevator. He knew how dangerous untreated injuries were in space better than anyone.

The descent was slower than usual, as was protocol for an injury where speed was not of the essence and a less turbulent descent outweighed the need for timeliness. It gave John plenty of opportunity to stare at the rounded edge of the space elevator’s inner ceiling. Frustration over near guaranteed being grounded bubbled up until he had to screw his eyes shut and force himself to focus on the way the g-forces felt against his body so he didn’t utterly lose it.

Landing on earth came with a jolt that managed to catch John by surprise. He flinched, then checked the systems read outs and undid his restraints. Remaining lying on the launch couch was one third to demonstrate he could be sensible and wait instead of trying to walk off a potentially serious injury, another third because he didn’t want to tangle with gravity on his own, and also so that he could childishly pretend he was still up on Five and far away for a little longer.

Virgil knocked on the space elevator doors and a second later they slid open. John gave him a weak smile.

The journey through the hangars to the infirmary was made with Virgil’s supportive arm around his waist and John’s arm draped across his brother’s broad shoulders as John stubbornly limped along. He did take a moment as his feet first touched the concrete floor and gravity really took hold to lean into Virgil’s half hug and just breathe.

The infirmary was the same as it always was, with its sterile smell overloaded with the sharpness of antiseptic that made it different from the atmosphere on Five, and thankfully quiet.

John manoeuvred himself up onto the closest bed, sinking into the stiff foam mattress as much as was physically possible. Stars, he was tired.

Virgil was exceedingly gentle as he eased John’s foot out of his space boot. He stripped the sock off too, propping the foot up to rest in his lap to examine it. John grimaced as Virgil necessarily poked and prodded at where it was sorest. Though the bruises and swelling were not particularly hard to spot from where contact had been made with the solid bulkhead.

John anxiously chewed his lips waiting for Virgil to get the portable x-ray, zap him and be done with it.

Moving his sore foot around at all the required angles for the shots was… a process.

He did his best to be patient as Virgil took the x-rays off to Grandma for a second opinion on how they would most effectively treat him, but ended up curled in a ball on the slightly plasticky hospital sheets, stubbornly facing the wall with his foot carefully positioned in a way that it least hurt.

He wasn’t asleep, it was not late enough for that and he was far too wired but he was knocked out of his reverie nonetheless by Grandma stroking his hair.

“Definitely broken, kiddo. No getting around that.”

Even John could see it when they showed him the x-rays. He could only be grateful the fracture was neatly aligned and wouldn’t need surgery, he’d seen plenty of worse breaks in the field. It still meant weeks of being grounded, away from Five and unable to go home to his stars.

Virgil applied the cast under Grandma’s supervision. John shuddered at the sensations even as he tried to keep still. He was proud of how far Virgil had come in his medical education and he made sure his brother knew that.

The usual checks after coming down from space wore on his nerves. He took the painkillers for his stupid broken foot, the anti-nausea meds as his stomach wasn’t settling from the change from microgravity and the tall lidded cup of the least disgusting flavour of electrolyte drink as directed.

He fidgeted with his baldric, tracing over the lines of his suit; everything was a lot today. For all of them; John didn’t miss the dark circles beneath Virgil’s eyes or the way he slumped as he sat on the bed next to John once Grandma had left and the cast was setting.

Virgil had briefly crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself, hands rubbing the flannel of his sleeves. Then he uncrossed them, hunching his shoulders to appear smaller, less intimidating, fingertips still going over the soft, worn fuzzy material of the cuffs of his flannel.

John placed his hand, palm up on Virgil’s leg. Virgil took it and John squeezed his fingers once as they sat in silence for a while.��

Changing out of his space suit for the loose pyjama shorts and t-shirt Virgil brought was difficult and awkward with his foot. And how clumsy he was here in general.

Trying to walk on crutches was, to put it in far politer words than John vehemently used, a disaster.

One second he was standing with the crutches around his arms, adjusted to the correct height, his casted foot off the ground, everything done properly, about to take a step. The next he was a tangled pile of limbs on the ground.

John’s cheeks were burning red yet again. Stupid, fucking gravity and his miraculous ability to trip over nothing.

He shoved the useless hunks of metal away from him as the room blurred, swiping at the angry tears as they formed.

Virgil crouched in from of him, checking him over for injury. Well, further injury.

There wasn’t any, apart from his rather dented pride. John didn’t count the damp tears trickling down his face as he studiously attempted to ignore them.

Virgil made a soft noise as John let himself be pulled into a hug. Warm flannel absorbed his tears as John hugged Virgil tighter. Somehow it felt like he hadn’t seen him for months even though it couldn’t’ve been that long, could it? Unless they counted for quality time rather than John being periodically dragged down to earth… He missed his quietest and closest brother in age even if they’d been talking mission only this morning.

Maybe John tried to hide from the world for a little while, and Virgil let him. They both needed this; Virgil’s face was also buried in John’s hair.

After a while, sitting sprawled on the hard infirmary floor caught up to them with all the aches of too long days of heavy work. And broken bones. John shifted with a grimace.

Now he had to get back up off the ground when the crutches were clearly not a help, when he was pretty near useless down here, unable to resist the inevitable pull of gravity to the centre of the earth and the unforgiving ground.

…He was probably being far too dramatic about it. Should just get it together like everyone else seemed able to do.

But it was still a problem that he didn’t want to deal with because fundamentally, he wished he was back on Five.

He had been going to tell someone about the injury, of course. Just as soon as he’d thought up a watertight excuse slash explanation. As soon as got himself under control and stopped being so sensitive over everything that he’d snap at anyone who got near him. So he would not end up like this, a too-emotional mess on the floor.

Virgil once again checked his cast and his broken foot were undamaged by his fall. John wondered whether it was as much for Virgil’s sake of making sure idiot big brothers weren’t going to suddenly keel over as for John’s. John rubbed a hand roughly over his face. It was because Virgil cared. And maybe time had proven he had a right to worry.

John protested as Virgil went to pick him up, on the grounds Virgil had already been doing plenty of heavy lifting on rescues today and he had to be exhausted already, and John really didn’t want him to throw his back out or his knees or whatever other worst case scenarios John could come up with.

He also knew he’d look utterly ridiculous in Virgil’s hold, all gangly, lanky limbs out of proportion with Virgil’s shorter, stockier build. And John was more likely to accidentally elbow someone in the nose, which had demonstrably happened before and the guilt still chewed at him, than even Scott fighting tooth and nail against being slung over someone’s shoulder when he there was no way he could even physically stand, let alone walk any distance. He warned Virgil away sharply.

“John. I know my limits, and you aren’t any worse than Scott.” Virgil sounded done with it all. “And I’d rather carry you than have to pick up the pieces or reset that cast, which I have also had to do before, because one of my brothers is injured and deserves help but they are too damn stubborn to let me.”

The fight in John left him as a hissing exhale, like a hole in a space ship venting atmosphere.

Virgil scooped him up off the ground, promising to figure the rest out later as John avoided flailing too much.

His brother’s arms were secure around his knees and under his shoulders, holding him close so there was no danger of him hitting the ground, of the falling that some part of John secretly feared, even with the rocking movement of Virgil’s strides. John’s cheek stayed mushed against Virgil’s flannel-clad chest.

The walls of the house passed him in a tired blur. He really didn’t want to be left to sit around in his room where no matter how tired he was he wouldn’t sleep yet. Lying there staring at the ceiling all afternoon with nothing better to occupy him than his turbulent thoughts was frankly not a good idea.

He said as much to Virgil, probably far too bluntly. The usual multi-stage filter he sorted his words through before he ever said them had met its untimely demise in face of his exhaustion several hours ago.

It wasn’t like he wanted to hang around amidst the noise and movement and peopleing of the lounge with everyone else either. John being difficult again, as usual, the voice in the back of his head snarked.

Virgil had mercy on John and took the back route through the house instead of past the comms room where everyone would see him, even if it was only his family who he should know wouldn’t judge him. Everyone had been in the position of being carried about when they’d fallen asleep somewhere or were injured or were about to be chucked into the pool, so except in the last situation, John shouldn’t’ve been embarrassed or really cared, except that he did.

They passed by John’s bedroom. John curled a little closer to Virgil in something that could’ve been called relief. He really wasn’t sure he wanted to be completely alone right now; he trusted Virgil.

A booted foot nudged open the door before Virgil placed John down on one of the big, squishy beanbags in the corner of his studio.

John melted into it. He didn’t think he had bones anymore. Or any outside of the ones he’d just broken which had plenty of painful evidence of their existence. But no bones. He could even forgive gravity just this once when it was letting him sink into the soft surface.

He looked up at Virgil’s low chuckle.

“They’re good, aren’t they? Gordon found them online and I chose the colours.” Virgil smiled fondly.

They hadn’t been here the last time John had hung out in Virgil’s studio with him. A spike of sorrow stabbed at his chest.

New beanbags were a tiny change. It shouldn’t even matter. Except they demonstrated precisely how he was missing out on the details of his brothers’ lives while he was away.

The beanbag covers were greens and yellows, soft, earthen shades exactly what John would expect Virgil to pick. Colourful, but not in your face. Soothing and restful but not dull.

Observations probably not as important to anyone else as John found them.

Virgil ducked out and came back with John’s tablet, the one he used earth-side with its bulky, lilac shatter-proof case.

John took it carefully from Virgil’s hands, not because it was breakable even dropped from quite a height, but because of the consideration Virgil gave him, to bring him it to read on when he couldn’t go get something himself.

In space, alone, it wasn’t like there anyone to do that kind of thing for him. Even with the gifts snuck into monthly supply crates by his family, he’d sort of forgotten how it felt.

He shoved away the ever so familiar feeling of being torn in two. He loved the stars, loved being up on Five, he really did. In spite of this, missing his family while up there was a constant wound he packed with the duty of constantly being called upon, of constantly needing to be the Voice Who Answers, in hopes of staunching his bleeding emotions. It contrasted with how he never wanted to outstay his welcome on Earth.

Why was it that no matter where he was, he still wanted to go home?

Why did anger seethe and rise only to leave him all hollow and empty?

John gulped, running his hands over his face. He tucked one into his hair, tugging at the strands in an effort to distract himself. Why the fuck was he like this?

Virgil had turned away to get something off his desk, so at least he didn’t have to see John freaking out over nothing.

John forced a smile when Virgil looked back at him in concern. It wasn't like he could do anything about it.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Virgil said.

He was wearing his set of large, over-ear noise-cancelling headphones, covered in green stickers, his chin nodding along to a beat John couldn’t hear. Virgil wasn’t smiling but the creases around his eyebrow scar were shallower. Today had been getting to him too.

Left alone, John examined the art studio more thoroughly, letting himself become absorbed in the details, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

The whole place was very Virgil, in the best possible way. Storage for art materials was arranged with an engineer’s precision for putting and keeping things in their proper order, cupboards with closed doors painted olive green and neatly labeled in Virgil’s blocky handwriting. Only the pencils Virgil was currently using were left on his desk, in their tray reordered into an exactingly coloured gradient. John couldn’t deny that it also clicked in his brain with that urge to line stuff up.

An electric keyboard lived along a side wall by a bookshelf containing folders of sheet music and art theory books. John knew from Virgil that the music was arranged by each song’s dominant colour palette according to folder, when he asked as at first he couldn't make sense of the system when of course Virgil would have a system.

There were speakers in a few places around the room for the frequent times Virgil listened to music while creating. Good quality ones because Virgil said certain staticky types gave him the same sensation as putting gritty sand in his mouth.

It was Virgil’s space for making art and just being, so he’d adapted it to him. Virgil got overwhelmed when there was too much visual stimulation, with constant busy, bright colours and clutter of the world he couldn't put away, so here was an escape from that.

The walls and ceiling were light, giving an airy feeling. A large landscape window joined inside and outside seamlessly, looked over what John privately thought was the best view on the island, except for the observatory. You could see right out past Mateo, over pokey trees and ocean. Late afternoon sunlight poured in, and there were shades if it got too much.

Greenery was introduced into the room itself by the massive monstera plant in the corner, its umbrella-like leaves forming pleasing shadows on the floor, contrasting with the near liquid golden light. More smaller plants were scattered about. John brushed his fingers over the monstera, to reach out and touch the tangible connection with life and the earth.

Occasionally a piece of art was hung up for a while as it was finished before being moved to its intended display area in an other part of the house, like the watercolour sketch of playful dolphins amongst their reef obviously intended for Gordon. But mostly there wasn't anything to distract from the artwork, on canvas or as music, that Virgil was bringing to life.

John found the studio calming too, even when he usually tended towards wanting all his bright stars, books, open screens and telescopes in his space at once. There was something about the soothing surroundings, how the faint smell of paints and real paper lingered, mixing with engine bio-oil and coffee, that meant safety and home. His brother’s mark on it was undeniable.

John couldn’t help but search for the splatter of paint Virgil had mentioned earlier. It was blue and on a wall in this room, so it shouldn’t be hard to miss but in spite of all of his skills at searching, it was nowhere to be found. Eventually he resigned himself to the fact that Virgil must have painted over it, destroying the tangible proof that he’d acted out in anger.

The beanbags squished beneath him when he flopped back, long legs stretched out and foot smarting when he moved it, picking up his tablet for something to do. His substantial library of books wasn’t holding anything that could keep his attention right now as he flicked between them, opening and shutting pages. He tipped his head back, looking upwards, letting his tablet fall face down onto his chest.

And there it was. On the wall above him, the blue splodge of paint exactly from Virgil’s story.

Except it wasn't just a splodge because a rainbow of lines had been added around it, faithfully following the original shape and expanding upon it, forming a bird with wings outstretched, flying freely across the wall. Something utterly beautiful from from what had begun as only painful.

John’s breath caught. He didn't know how Virgil did that. He wrung out hope from anger, forming all the emotion into art where John just flailed because he didn’t want to touch his feelings with a thousand kilometre stick.

But here, in Virgil’s studio surrounded by the calm quiet where he could finally breathe, he could try.

So he picked up his tablet. Opened up the word programme. And began to write.

He had no idea where he was going. No plot, no plan, no outline. When he usually did this, for reports, for academic works, he always had his ideas and arguments all laid out in his head and he simply had to put them on the page in front of him.

His fingers found the keyboard and he let them, doing his best not to second-guess and delete every word he put down. To think too much and bail out as it got too big and too scary even when this was just typing on his tablet sitting in a beanbag in the corner of the room, not doing anything at all that could be thought of as dangerous or would mess up his broken foot.

It wasn't really much. In subject or in word count or in technical finesse. He hadn’t been doing this writing thing for very long, not since university and stories scrawled in his near illegible handwriting hidden in paper notebooks beneath his bed. Not for himself.

He saved the document and slammed the window closed before he could look at it and convince himself it was all completely stupid and he never should’ve even tried in the first place.

But it was cathartic and it gave him somewhere to put the irrational seething anger, outlined by the sorrow that seeped through in the lines between, to bleed out on paper, in words that were his first language and first love. In the beginnings of stories that didn’t have to be perfect or real and contained far too much of himself to even think about showing anybody yet, but that maybe one day he would.

When Virgil knocked on the door and opened it, John jumped like he’d been caught out. Then he glanced up and saw the blue paint splodge turned flying bird from the corner of his eye, and he could smile at Virgil with all the love in the world and more understanding of how his brother worked. Of why after hard rescues and bad days his first instinct was to turn to piano or canvas.

Seeing what Virgil was carrying on the tray in his hands had John wishing he hadn’t ever broken his foot so he could throw himself at Virgil to hug him this very second. Though if he hadn’t been injured, he never would’ve come down from Five today.

A blueberry bagel, toasted, with the special strawberry cream cheese that was his favourite but never lasted long in space. Or on Earth, unless his brothers saved it for him on purpose.

There was a cup of tea too, next to Virgil’s customarily massive mug of coffee.

John just stared up at him, until he found his voice to whisper all his thanks over and over. He took the plate and the cup in slightly trembling hands, then placed them on the floor next to him.

He raised his arms so that Virgil would crouch down and John could squish him into a hug.

John clung to red flannel for a few seconds longer than he usually would. Virgil returned it in kind, smiling at him with soft, brown eyes.

Then he was fussing over John’s foot again, propping it up on pillows and wrapping an icepack around it. John took it in because this was Virgil’s way of showing he cared. As well, it would mean he could get back on his feet sooner by not ignoring the injury. Plus it hurt less.

Before Virgil returned to his desk and pencils, John bumped their foreheads together in show of affection not as frequently done between them with the distance. It was often Scott and Virgil’s thing. Virgil hummed happily at him even when John wobbled as he leaned forward, making the collision slightly more forceful than he intended. Instead they laughed together over Tracy hard heads.

Enjoying each other’s company with no pressure to talk or interact was nice and exactly what they both needed. They could do their own things in parallel, Virgil with his art, a sketch forming beneath steady hands, and John with… whatever he was doing at this point.

Gathering up his courage, he cautiously reopened his word document from earlier and read over what he’d written. It was… okay actually. The typos and errors he grimaced at were numerous, but those were fixable problems.

It was a story, he’d written something. John found himself smiling down at his tablet with the urge to add more so he did.

The time passed in the light from the windows transforming from light gold to a fiery orange, stretching across their room and their island alike. As dusk grew closer, the bird calls and insect songs changed, and there were so many wonderful things about space that John could never give up loving but it didn't have this.

So maybe that was what was wrong with him. Instead of a flaw in his very humanity, it was more not enough food and too much stress, not sleeping right or talking to anyone. Those simple things he sort of… forgot about, ignored. John needed to be around family too, with the sunlight streaming in, plants in touching distance and the quiet company of Virgil and some care to feel better.

Maybe while he was down here, he’d even go stargazing outside tomorrow, lying on a picnic blanket on the grass like he used to. Monitor work could be taken care of at dad’s desk, there’d be time to help Allie with his school work then play video games together and once his cast was off, swim in Gordon’s ocean. To hang out with Scott too and help pull his beloved biggest brother out of his own overwork spiral. He hadn’t had a chance to catch up with Grandma or Kayo or Brains in a while either.

Only then would he return to Five, to his stars and space, his research and monitor duty proper. His little room up there, the gravity ring and central floating hub, with Eos as his companion, they were home too. Not in replacement of the island and his family but in addition. And he knew he could come down to Earth when he needed to even if, especially when it was just because he wanted a hug.

Right now, the soft patter of his fingertips on the glass screen blended with the scratchings of Virgil’s coloured pencils on artist’s paper.

He munched on his bagel and sipped his tea contentedly. Virgil had been cupping his warm mug of coffee in his hands, happily sighing as John fought the urge to giggle.

It was with a cheerier and more relaxed Virgil that they ended up squished together on the beanbag pile once the sun was fully set. John snuggled into his brother’s side, it really had been too long but he was here now.

Virgil’s fingers tapped contentedly against the knee of his jeans like he was playing a melody on the piano, other arm tucked around John, meaning John could feel the vibrations as Virgil hummed along. John went from messing with the case of his tablet to happily flickering his hands at his sides.

Also, how were the beanbags this comfortable? These ones didn’t even rustle and squeak like he remembered the ones they’d had as kids did.

Those had met a horrific end with their guts all over the house when Gordon had wanted to know what was inside them and out of scientific curiosity John had helped find the answers, utilising his ability to read and follow the instructions on the tag of how to open the pull-less zipper with an ancient paperclip.

He retold the story to Virgil whose eyes widened in surprise.

“So it was you!” he laughed. “I’d wondered how Gords did it, but I hadn't put anything past the fish.”

John lost his battle with holding in his own giggles and decided to let Virgil in on the secrets of a few other John-and-Gordon specials.

There was a knock before Scott ducked his head around the corner of the doorway, just as John glanced up.

Scott leant against the frame, intense blue eyes looking him over. John couldn’t tell whether they were sharper in person than over hologram or softer. They stuck on John’s cast, flicking to Virgil before scanning carefully over his body, same as if any of the others were injured in the field.

“Scott,” John stated. An acknowledgment that his big brother was here. The tight, tangled barbed wire ball that had been living in his stomach for days loosened further.

“You okay?”

How was he supposed to answer that? In this moment, laughing aloud with Virgil, yeah he was. But all the rest of the day, the week beforehand? John gave a noncommittal shrug that didn’t give much either way.

Of course that became cause for Scott to come closer. He knelt in front of John, ever so mindful of his broken foot.

Telegraphing his movements, Scott reached out and brushed John’s hair out of his face before silently kissing his forehead, all gentle big brother who was here for him no matter what.

He repeated the motion with Virgil.

John froze for precious seconds then threw himself at Scott.

It hurt. He’d forgotten about his foot in its awful cast for a moment, knocking it painfully against the floor with a broken yelp. But Scott caught him anyway. Virgil’s arms went back around him too and he was still humming but in a steadier pitch.

John was sniffling against Scott’s chest, soaking up his brothers’ warmth and all the love in the room, even as he wasn’t sure whether he was crying again from sorrow or pain or because they both cared about him so, so much and the happy-overwhelmed feeling got stuck as a lump in his throat.

Maybe together they could fix this mess John had somehow made. But right now John let them hold him close, let Scott rock them until the calm of the room could creep back in.

A cuddle pile formed on the beanbags once again, this time with Scott too. John leant back on Scott’s chest, still hiccuping occasionally from the tears. Both sets of their long legs alongside each other were tossed over Virgil’s lap, who’d very fairly called them a lanky, boney weighted blanket, while snuggling in with no suggestion they move. He could feel Scott’s chin resting on top of his head, breaths lightly tickling his hair.

Virgil had had to check again, with the medscanner he kept in his studio first aid kit, that John hadn’t screwed up his foot in its bright orange cast. Yet he hadn’t and even though John could still feel the pain of the impact, Virgil had given him another dose of ibuprofen which would take the edge off soon.

John’s eyes slid half shut with exhaustion. Scott let him fidget with his hands as he gripped them. Virgil was tapping out piano pieces again, a more relaxed melody now against the top John’s bare shin, the sensation grounding and reminding him Virgil was close.He had his brothers. All of them. All of his family. They loved him and they’d help him figure this out and that was more that enough, it was everything.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #virgil tracy #astrawrite #autistic john tracy #autistic virgil tracy #neurodivergent tracies

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romana-after-dark · 1 year

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Romana, congratulations on your amazing milestone!!! You deserve it all and more!!💗🥳 your TWW series is in my heart forever!💕👏 Joel is a horrible mf but I miss him so much!😫 so could you please write a drabble with him and LO 🙏

34.- “I’ve been waiting all day to do this."

"Well, That's Alright Because I Like The Way It Hurts"

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel is a raider who keeps you captive, and despite the horrors, when he's gone longer than expected, you're terrified of losing him. When he comes back after the long trip, you let him take out all his frustrations on you.

WARNINGS: DUB CON!, DARK FIC! DDDNE! Reader is captive and although theres almost no resistance, its because she's been manipulated so sevearly. Massive manipulation warning, negative self talk and talk from joel in regards to readers worth, degradation, anal fingering, anal, beating, slapping and hitting but she literally asked for it.

1800 words (way more than I said drabbles would be for my celebration but I get carried away with this universe.)

A/n: This is a one shot for my dark!Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller series, The Wrong Way, but can be read separate. Takes place somewhere in chapter 6, between little one placing boundaries with Tommy and Tommy leaving.

Part of Romana's 1000 follower celebration (on my main)

****************

"Just gonna stand there and watch me burn? Well, that's all right because I like the way it hurts Just gonna stand there and hear me cry? Well, that's all right because I love the way you lie I love the way you lie." Love the Way You Lie, parts 1, 2 and 3

You shouldn't be reacting like this.

After everything he did to you, you should not be this worried about Joel not being back the day he promised… but you were.

So worried, in fact, that even after telling Tommy he needed to keep his distance and there needed to be some boundaries between you for the sake of your safety and for that bubbling guilt you felt at the borderline emotional affair between you… you were once again curled up in Tommy’s lap like a child, strong, safe arms securing you to him as you cried.

It wasn’t that you were stupid. Despite what Lorenzo seemed to think, you were well aware of the situation you were in, well aware that you should be hoping Joel was dead, and well aware that his death would spell your freedom to run away with Tommy… but none of it mattered. You loved Joel, Joel protected you, you were indebted to him after Nick. Joel was your safety and you didn’t care how fucked up it sounded…

You loved Joel, and now he might be dead.

Tommy didn’t dare chastize you, didn’t ask why you were sobbing, why you were scared… since the day Joel bought you, took you away from what you knew, his older brother had beaten you into submission, twisted your mind so badly that you didn’t know which was was up or day, you didn’t know right or wrong anymore. All you knew was Joel.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, honey, I’m sure he’s okay.”

It didn’t stop the way your body shook in sobs, gripping tightly to Tommy’s shirt.

Joel’s voice was sudden and booming in the doorway. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

Tommy mumbled shit, and you knew he was worried Joel was going to suspect something… but the way you scrambled off Tommy, running into Joel’s arms as you called his name, Joel was quickly distracted by the girl hugging him, the girl he tightly hugged back. How could he ever suspect you of anything when it was so clear how much you missed him? He had you, body and soul.

“I missed you so much Joel!” You cry. “I was so worried!”

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay, I’m okay, just got a little caught up is all.” It was… a bad day. It had not gone well and although in the end, Joel had regained control of the situation, it had left him with a lot of pent up frustration.

Wracking in heaves, you continued to cry in relief. The blood on his clothes, the smell of sweat and death and violence; it wasn’t lost on you, but you didn’t care. He was home. “I thought you died.”

“Oh little one…” He murmured, scooping you up into his arms. As your legs instinctively wrapped around his thick waist, you buried your face in his neck that you peppered with kisses and adoration. “I’ll always come back to you. We’re tied together, always.” Joel carried you back to his room.

As he laid you down on the bed, you knew what he would want and you willingly submitted to him, opening up your heart and mouth and legs for him to do with as he pleased. Joel was the purpose of your existence, and without him you’d be lost, directionless, meaningless. You would continue to do for him whatever he wanted, whatever you needed to do for him to keep you and keep you safe.

He kissed you roughly, a desperate, needy force behind his actions and you tried your best to predict him movements, open where he wanted you to open, move where he wanted you to move. You missed him, you missed him so goddamn much it had hurt, hurt so bad the pain he was bringing you now was a solace.

“I’m sorry” Joel muttered, barely audible as he roughly gripped your hip to take it off the old mattress he slept on in order to pry the pants off your body. “I’m trying not to hurt you, it’s just- fuck- it’s been a long goddamn few days, and I’ve been waiting all day to do this.”

In the past, the early days of your captivity, Joel had hurt you but mostly inadvertently. It was in the way he gripped you, the way he punctured inside you with no preparation, the way you hit a wall or a table as he moved you in whatever position your pliant body allowed… but he had changed, he’d become careful, and the less you fought him, the softer he was, the more pleasure he brought you; so much so that now your body craved it, you craved him, and chemical attraction, an undeniable force you were powerless to control. That’s how he got you like this. You were so willing, so open, so ready to take what he gave you and give what he needed, clawing for praise and comfort and physical touch that you didn’t even hesitate your next words.

“Take it out on me.”

Pulling back, he briefly paused; confusion and sweat spread across his face. “Hm?”

You hold his scruffy face in your hands, thumbs tracing the beard you loved and jawline that made him look so goddamn handsome. “Take it out on me. Your anger. I can take it.”

His face softened. “I don’t want to hurt you, baby girl. I’m tryna be better for you.”

Rough and needy and all consuming, you kiss him. You want to inhale him, breath him in so that he can never, ever leave you again. He can do whatever he wants to you, hurt you as badly as he needs as long as you never have to sleep without his arms again.

Joel’s face widened in a close-mouthed smile, a smile you knew spelled trouble but you didn’t care.

“Good fucking girl.”

Within a second your world was spinning, and you didn't realize he flipped you over until you land on your stomach. Dripping wet from the make out, Joel slides right in, aided by how slicked up you were; you wouldn’t have protested if you weren’t. Anything to hear him call you a good girl again.

“Fuck, baby.” Joel grumbled as he split you wide open on his cock. He watched your ass ripple with every thrust, beckoning him with a call he couldn’t resist.

Smack

You cry out, and you can feel him hesitate behind you. “More, I can take it, I promise.”

A grunt, and deep thrust into your core, and another hard smack on your asscheek. And another. And another. He kept going as he fucked you, the beating on your ass and thighs alternating between slaps and hits from the side of his fist, your cunt clenching around him with every beating.

“Fuck, your little pussy likes that, huh?” Joel teases you before getting an idea. You did say he could take his hard day out on you, didn’t he? Leaning down, he gathers out some spit and drops it directly above your asshole.

“Joel?” You ask, suddenly, nervous. “What are you- ohhh” You sigh, melting on the bed as he pressed two wetted fingers inside you. You hadn’t expected it to feel that good. While he continued spearing you on his dick, he opened up your asshole with his fingers, muttering about how good you are for him, how good you look like, how well behaved you are.

“Are you ready, pretty little thing? Ready for my cock to take your tight little asshole?” His assault on your cunt never stopped.

“I don’t know if-”

“I wasn’t really asking.” Quickly, he pulled out of you and with his cock slicked up from your natural lube and the globes of spit he fingered into you, the fat tip of his cock slowly penetrating your virgin ass. You cry into the pillow, but never tell him to stop, never make any signs of resistance. Your body existed for him, you existed for him, and you were going to be a good girl for Joel.

“Fucking hell, little one.” He grunted with each harsh thrust. “I didn’t think anything could be a tight as your little hole, but this is incredible” Joel bent down, his strong but soft body encasing you. Surrounded by him, every single sense told you Joel, Joel, Joel.

The smell of his sweat and breath and day old clothes.

The taste of the fingers he shoved inside your mouth to suck on.

The sound of his grunts, the slap of his skin to yours, the splatter of split on where he entered you.

The sight of the bedroom wall approaching and receding as his thrusts rocked you on the bed.

And the feeling, the feeling of being filled by him, claimed by him, forever and always Joel Miller’s like the brand on your thigh reminded you.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me, so good for me, letting me use your body.” He kissed between your shoulder blades before pressing his forehead to the damp skin on your back affectionately. “Letting me use you like my little toy, my little punching bag, fuck! Just a silly little girl needs me to take care of her, feed her, protect her, fuck you even need me to bath you, and in return you let me use your body however I need, right?”

“Yes sir” you cry, knowing how much he loved the sound of your tears. You hadn’t expected it to feel this good, you felt like you were actually aware of every single inch of him sliding in and out in a way you werent when he fucked your pussy. It was a full body feeling, and when you came, that pleasure was extended to every inch of you. You had never experienced anything so intense, and it continued as Joel unloaded into you, happy to be able to fuck his cum into one of your little holes without risk of pregnancy.

“Jesus, little one, you're cumming from anal? Fuck, fuck your perfect.” He kept pounding into you, relishing your little whines as your asshole milked out every last drop. “Fuck!” Joel shouted. Collapsing onto you, you feel the full weight of the man whose body was built from hard work and acts of violence crushing you, and you never felt more safe.

Joel continued kissing your back and neck as he and you both came down from your highs, and as soon as he had the fine motor ability again he began massaging your shoulders. “You did so good for me, little girl. So fucking good. I’m damn proud of you.”

You bask in his praise and his presence, the way he was all consuming and when he was with you, nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter that he kidnapped you, it didn’t matter that he hurt you, it didn’t matter that he was a known raider and murderer… all the matter is he loved you.

“Don’t leave me like that again, please?” You whisper, voice soft and tired and pleading for him.

“Never, little one.” He scooched up to kiss your cheek before resting his head on you again. “You couldn’t be free on me if you tried.”

*******************

I hope you all liked this lil glimpse into little one and Joel's funky lil wierd relationship and how badly she wanted to please him.

My inbox is always open for thoughts about this series lol dont shy away, a few people have commented they wish they could talk to people about this series but no one else gets it. Bro! I get it! Ill listen to all your theories and thoughts!

Anyways, ILY! Thanks for all the support here and on my main!

Tagging people who have seemed interesting in drabbles with this series here and there. if you want to keep getting notified of TWW drabbles lmk! I dont wanna always do them, but theres some bits and pieces i just couldn't fit in the series.

Such as

Joel having a slightly different reaction to seeing LO in tommys arms (im on a laptop so no emoji so imagine a side eye emoji)

Ya'll gonna like that one, bc a BUNCH of yall been asking for since scenario since the first chapter came out lolololol

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @primosworld @fandxmslxt69 @the-fox-den @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @miraclesabound @koshkaj-blog @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

#dark!joel #the wrong way series #the last of us hbo #dark joel miller #joel miller #joel miller smut #non con #dub con #the wrong way fic #joel miller fic #Tommy miller #dddne #joel miller reader #joel miller fem reader #fem reader #fem!reader #Spotify

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borderlinebox · 2 years

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Sup! hope you’re having a great day 😮💗 having childhood best friend brainrot- “you have my back right?” x “lmao probably” cheesy but I eat that shit up every time

could you write a oneshot or headcannon

for chishiya? He’s gotten/done something that’s worth celebrating (maybe it’s his birthday, got first place or a hundred on his test, got into the college that he applied to) he’s never been told by someone that they’re proud of him not even from his old man so he went on with his day expecting nothing special

But but BUT chishiya hears the familiar patterned knocks on his window, how they managed to get up there without his father knowing is beyond him but he’s relieved considering his old man isn’t all that fond with them (In this scenario id imagine that chishiya’s father wouldn’t really like us bc of our shortcomings? something like that...and if he isn’t friends with our parents)

they sneak (more like drag) him out with a lot of convincing and celebrate by going into places he would tolerate or enjoy,,rip his friend’s allowance 💸 At the end of the night they both end up on a park bench with store bought cake with messy written icing “I’m so pr he I did it bitch!!” done by yours truly. they do say it to him and give him a short side hug before he gets back home tho

Feel free to decline this! take care ⭐️

Celebrate With Me!

Summary: Reader acknowledges Chishiya's accomplishments.

Pairing: Chishiya x Reader

Warning: That good cliche shit, FLUFF, cuteness overload, not proofread!!!, changed a few things up!

A/N: ISTG I'm boutta make a Chishiya X Bestfriend! Reader bundle because these requests are too cute!! Hope you have a great day as well and take care too ^^ <3 I am incredibly happy and proud on how this turned out!!! Spent a literal 2 hours straight on it because I lost some progress and I'm gonna have my ass whooped later but this should cover the blow LOVE YALL AND THIS REQQQ ♥

Feedback is highly appreciated!!!

Chishiya sat upon his desk chair, currently finishing up some notes. Just things he's learnt or felt like he found interesting. He could use it in the future. Distant music playing from his favorite band echoed softly in his room.

There wasn't much to do. He'd recently gotten a letter from a university he had applied to - which he was successfully accepted in. He could say he was happy for himself but it just wasn't that exciting or celebration-worthy to him.

He continuously tapped the tip of the pen against the table in a rhythm, re-reading the paragraphs of various words.

SMACK

The sudden noise caught Chishiya's attention as he quickly twisted his head towards the loud noise. There, on his window, a handprint was seen as it was slowly sliding down the window, failing to stick.

Its fingers soon danced on the window, creating multiple and small taps across the glass pane without a proper flow of beat.

Chishiya sighed and stood up and opened the window to reveal his friend struggling to hold onto his window's support,

"Y/N, What are you doing here?" He wasn't at all surprised. He was just more so concerned why you were currently hanging by a thread on his window.

"I'll tell you when I get inside. Right now let's focus on the part where you shoULD BRING ME INSIDE." You flailed your legs around as you struggled to even breathe properly.

He hissed at you to stay quiet and helped you up to sneak inside.

There was a voice, somewhere in his mind where he actually wanted to leave you hanging for a while to amuse himself but that would have been a bad idea.

Once you had both your feet on the floor of his bedroom, you dusted yourself off and took a much needed breather. You had been running to his house since 45 minutes ago. It was hard with the troublesome traffic and people yelling at you as you swerved your way through them, you're just glad you've finally reached his humble abode.

"Right, Explain." He said bluntly, doing his signature move; placing his hands into his pockets. "How did you even get up here?"

You shaked your hand profusely, deflecting the topic. "Never mind that-, guess who found out when your birthday iiiisss?" You looked up at him with a tired yet mischievous grin.

"I'm guessing you."

"Me," You announced proudly while facing your thumb towards yourself, chest up in victory. "And you wanna know what I'm gonna do about it?"

"Please don't." Chishiya sighed, point-blankly. Unfortunately, there was no hope of changing the situation's circumstances because he knew when you were hooked on something, it's sure that you'll be hell-bent on getting it, no matter how stupidly dangerous or ridiculous it may seem.

You laughed before dropping down to the carpeted floor of his room and picking up your sling bag. "Now, as I was saying," Your finger dramatically pointed towards the bag. "We gotta celebrate! So we're going out and hang!"

"I really rather not." He stood his ground, stubbornly declining your offer.

"Come on, you're gonna celebrate your birthday with me!" You teased with the same playful grin you gave him. He was always so stubborn when it came to things he accomplished or failed - whether you wanna celebrate it or cheer him up. Either way, you were going to be even more stubborn than him this time.

"No." He muttered out sternly.

"Yes," You pushed with determination. "We are."

"No."

"Yes."

"No"

"Yes"

"No-"

"Why not??" You broke the repetitive, single-worded debate and gave him a sad look. "You never celebrate anything. Don't you want me to show you how happy and proud I am for you, Chishiya?"

Chishiya seemed to be broken from his train of thought at his words. He was silent, but you could tell that he was processing your words and calculating a response as if he was some kind of robot. You'd have to be honest, he kind of is one sometimes-

"Fine, I'll go and celebrate my birthday." Was all he said, his condescending look seeming to have disappeared - replaced with an unreadable expression.

It didn't feel like an answer at all - you felt disappointed. But you decided to push away those feelings for later because you were still ecstatic about your achievement and that's what mattered.

"W-Wonderful! You go get prepared or something!" You told him in a panic frenzy and opened the window from where you cam from. "I'll wait for you to climb out the window!"

And before waiting for his response, the last thing Chishiya saw of you was you already dipping out of the window and landed on the lush grass, in pain - as he presumed. He quickly changed and made his way down the stairs, being granted the permission to leave.

Chishiya would probably be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little bit concerned for your well being when you jumped out of that window.

To his surprise, when he went outside, he saw you standing proudly with a little dirt in your hair and face.

"You goof??" He asked, eyeing you up and down.

"Perfect, Great! I didn't get hurt, totally didn't - I think I sprained my wrist but that's totally fixed now." You spoke quickly, not even giving him a chance to say another word since you had grabbed him by his wrist. "Now come on! We don't have all day."

"Was this necessary?" Chishiya mutters blankly as he takes in the view of the park. It was a rather quiet, and less populated park wherever you and Chishiya both lived. Not many people visited everyday but there were still some who came often. Parks that were more widely known had a bigger crowd and you know Chishiya enough to know that he doesn't like big crowds. Especially the noise that comes with it.

"It was either this or the carnival next place." You turned to him and raised your brow.

"I think I prefer the park." He shrugged. It wasn't a bad place at all - Fairly clean and a decent view. You would sometimes come here alone and think, maybe even attempt to bring Chishiya over. But he was either busy or too stubborn to go. Thankfully, you managed to corner him.

Even though Chishiya let you take him here this time.

Both of you took your time there, having deep talks which mostly started off with why he hadn't really celebrated many past birthdays, which made you frown a lot. Chishiya thought it was half a mistake to give you that information after you had told him that you were gonna celebrate his birthday for him every year instead.

He may be lying if he didn't appreciate it.

The rest of the time, both of you walked and talked on the more philosophical topics. Just the precious quality time between two great lov friends, walking underneath the cloudy weather with strands of sunlight pushing through and landing on the cobblestone pavements.

It didn't seem much as a birthday celebration to the regular human etiquette but you could care less because both of you were having. swell time. Even if neither of you said it. It was a bonding time that didn't need the use of an explanation and more of a feeling.

Your eye was caught by a flock of ducks roaming around a side of a pond next to a woman selling duck food or pieces of bread. Chishiya must've noticed this since you had fully stopped walking and stood in place, staring at them.

"You wanna feed the ducks?" His voice brought you out of your mini daydream, he had his natural high charm evident in his face and voice.

"I, well, if you want to. It's your birthday, not mine.." You mumbled out, it was a bit low for anyone to actually process your words, seeing that you would be a little upset that you didn't feed those ducks.

"Okay then," He lightly smiles and walks his way past you with a bored yet slightly amused expression. "Let's go feed those ducks."

Like a little kid who had been given permission to sleep over at his friend's house, you giddily smiled and practically swooshed right on past him and over to the woman selling the small bits of food.

You quickly bought two small bags and handed one over to Chishiya. He took the bag filled with small, multiple pieces of duckfeed into his hands and looked back up at you. "If I'm gonna feed the ducks, you've gotta feed them too." You told him with a bright smile before kneeling down to the ducks.

Chishiya opened the bag and shook around its contents before taking out a handful and throwing it onto the ground the ducks stood upon with a blank face.

However, you had a cute and dorky smile on your face while you handfed them all equally. Some of them bit you by accident but it was no more painful than a light pinch. Your smile was bright enough to light up a whole room, Chishiya thought as he held back the urge to smile at your antics.

A chuckle from the old vendor caught both of your attention. When she noticed she sighed softly, "Sorry,"

You smiled, "No worries! It's absolutely fine! Why were you chuckling anyway?" Hand finding its way to the bag full of duck feed to gather some more and hand over the pieces to the ducks.

She grinned at the both of you. "Both of you are so cute, are you a couple?"

The question caught both of you off guard. You could quite literally feel the tension rise in the atmosphere. You felt your breath hitch and your lungs close as it denied you to breath from the sudden question.

"No! No, heh, we're just friends." You shot up with an awkward smile at the lady who had understood the tension between her and you both. You look back up at Chishiya with a nervous look on your face. "Isn't that right, Chi?"

He appeared to have froze due to your question. Or was he just standing still and silent because he had zoned out? Was he deeply immersed in his thoughts?

"No, we're friends." Chishiya confirmed. You expected that answer but you couldn't help but feel the pang in your heart when he actually said it.

The vendor nodded and apologized once again for asking such a question. She went back to her small stand to mind her own business instead.

Now you and Chishiya kept on feeding the ducks until both your bags were completely empty, all in awkward silence. Not one of you tried to break the ice since it appeared that no one had anything to say after that question.

You turned to thank the lady before leaving with Chishiya without a word.

Upon arriving back at the park's entrance Chishiya decided to finally break the silence. "Well? Where are you dragging me off to next?" He asked, raising a brow at you. You had almost completely forgotten the reason why you had went out in the first place.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." Slipping your hand into your slingbag, you pulled out a small crumpled paper and unfolded it.Chishiya tried to lean in and read but you pulled the paper closer to you. "Hey! Don't peek on the surprise." You pouted, forgetting all about the question for a moment.

He put his hand up defensively but it was no more than a sarcastic tease. "No peeking." He repeats before shoving his hands into his pockets once again. Chishiya was almost never seen with his hands outside his pockets outside of his home. It was almoat natural and expected.

Once you were sure he wouldn't peek again, you opened up the piece of paper before folding it once more.

"I got an idea."

"You looked at the paper which most likely had the idea.

"I have an idea." You repeated, dismissing his smart assness. "Follow me!" And once again, you boldly took a hold of his wrist and started to dash to whatever place you were dragging him to next.

The warm light of the welcome sign greeted the both of you as you stood outside a relatively new, and decently small café. And sketchy enough, the stores it was between in was a shady dentist's office and a run-down, forever closed drug store.

"This is the new coffee shop that opened last week." Chishiya noticed, looking up at the hangout's name to remember it. "It certainly has a sketchy location."

"That's cause this was the only place the owner could afford. In fact, they're actually quite creeped out by the stores beside it. I feel bad." You explained briefly, glancing at the side shops. "But that's not what we're here for, dear friend."

You pushed him inside the cafe and it was definitely much better on the inside than the out. It had relatively creamy walls and warm lights. You were surprised that the place wasn't filled with people. Tempting enough to keep this place as a secret, all to yourself.

"Sit the hell down." You brought Chishiya to a corner seat - which is, in a natural rule, one of the best seats a restaurant or any place could ask for - and sitting in front of him.

"It isn't a bad place, I'll give it that." Your bleach haired friend admitted, his eyes still roaming around. "What gave you the idea?"

A giggle escaped your lips, "I wanted to try it out. I actually visited the place a few days ago. It was completely different than now. They changed it a lot." You shrugged, "And I thought of you when I stepped in here. I thought you'd like the place."

Chishiya smiled lightly, which was again; rare. "It's good."

"Better than-"

"I haven't decided yet." He cut you off before you could finish which resulted in you giving him a cheeky smirk.

He couldn't help but feel good about himself when you admitted that you thought of him when you found this place. It felt truly honorable than his straight A's and cards with that big ol' red 'Accepted' on it. It was something near to a foreign feeling.

"About what that vendor said-" You were immediately cut off by a waiter coming up, asking for your orders. You coughed into your arm at the sudden surprise and ordered your preferred drink.

Chishiya glanced at you and the waiter, what was with the question? He quickly ordered his own drink as you thanked the waiter before they left.

Another set of an awkward silence filled between the both of you. He was curious about your earlier question but didn't want to push you, you looked embarassed enough after choking on your own spit.

"Don't think about it. She just made a mistake, it's fine." Chishiya wanted to say something else but decided to take matters into his own hands instead. "It's not that uncommon. Sometimes expected."

You nodded at his words. "Right.. I forgot, they have board games here! You wanna play?" You beamed up, changing the subject. He glanced his eyes to the side, finding the board games that you were talking about.

All of them were stacked on a small bookshelf that had a good amount of books on it as well.

"Sure, we'll play." He shrugged without a care. "Why don't you choose the game, Y/N?"

You hummed out a yes and took your time; reading all the board game labels. There were many of them but you wanted to try out something bold, something Chishiya would actuallu want to play with you. "Ah! Chess."

Why Chess? You finally processed your declaration.

"Oh, Chess?" Chishiya looked back at you. What a bold declaration of war. "Sure, why not."

You felt yourself gulp and begin to pray for your mistakes and for your well being, choosing a game like this against a guy like Chishiya. You've already made a decision and stood up and made your walk of shame towards the small chess board.

Bringing the board to your table, you gathered yourself the confidence and smacked the board down.

"Bring it on, Shuntaro." A smirk appeared on your face, a bold glimmer in your eyes.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." You burp out, watching your side of the chess board with bored and tired eyes. You've already accepted your death wish an hour ago.

Now you were here with two empty cups, 3 hours that passed by and found yourself with only a King and a Pawn against Chishiya's fucking army. You've paid for your drinks an hour ago and you were still here, suffering.

"You chose the game." He defended. He looked unchanged - just the same guy three hours ago. Meanwhile you sat in front of him, a hand in your hair and tired eyes.

You weren't sleepy, you were just tired of watching your entire empire fall.

"You're enjoying this, I know it. Behind those blank eyes of yours? You're enjoying this." An almost pathetically dramatic voice of sulking came from you as you connected your forehead onto the table.

You could feel him shrug in front of you.

"But alas!" You rose dramatically, "That was my plan all along!" You moved your king to the line of sight of his queen, making yourself lose. "I forfeit. Besides, we're gonna miss the best part of today!"

Chishiya watched as you obliterated yourself and throwing the chess pieces off the board and clean up. "Fun game." He responded to your actions.

"It was not at all fair." You pushed and closed the board up when you finished counting off the chess pieces and went off to put it back in respect. "You're far smarter than me and you know it."

"You chose th-"

"Yeah, Yeah. 'I chose the game' and whatnot, I get it." You echoed him in an immature tone of voice, but you'd never deny his intelligence. He technically carried you through physics and math.

He stood up and walked out beside you, hearing the same waiter who served you both give their thanks.

"The last stop shouldn't be too far from here." You were looking at that old crumpled piece of paper you had a while ago.

After just a few minutes, maybe 10, of walking, you found both yourselves in front of a popular convenience store joint that you and Chishiya always went to for a quick lunch or snack break when you were both in highschool.

You lead him to a black bench right across the small store and placed your things down, taking your wallet out your bag.

"Stay here." You smiled before running into the building.

Chishiya stared at the all too familiar black bench. No, he didn't sit, the black bench gave him an overflow of memories when you both hung out here. You and Chishiya would buy anything you both wanted and were able to buy from the store and sit out here, exchanging notes and occasionally jokes. He smiled at the thought.

"I told you to sit!" You pointed at him accusingly as you held a brown paper bag in your other arm. The sounds of the bells on the doors clinged together when you exited the building.

"I was." Chishiya turned his way to you.

"After almost 10 minutes of me being in there? Come on." You chuckled and decided to sit down on the black bench yourself. He followed right after you. "Check out what I got!"

You ruffled your hand into the paper bag with joy, tongue sticking out and biting softly on the muscle. "Boom!" You cheered when you took it out.

It was a small almost medium, cute pink cake - which was his favorite whipped strawberry flavor - with Chishiya's favorite cookies decorated on the outer curve.

You handed it to chishiya with the same dorky smile you had when you were feeding the ducks at the park. He observed the writing on the cake with narrow eyes.

'Hapi'

'You de'

'Congratatulations!!!'

Despite the spelling error, and the very messy writing, you still smiled like an idiot and Chishiya couldn't help but appreciate the fucked up cake. He actually showed you his smile that time.

Can you believe it? Making Chishiya smile 3 maybe even 4 times today?

It made yourself smile even wider that you had to put your chin on your hands.

"You spelled 'Congra-"

"I'm aware of my mistake Chishiya but there's clearly no more room for anymore mistakes on that cake." You pointed at the cake which really did have no more room for anymore icing.

He exhaled with a smile, his way of laughing or chuckling at you genuinely at best, before opening the plastic lid.

"Oh and, if you want anymore of your bland ass cookies, there's more in the bag. Can't understand why you like that crap." You jokingly gave him a cringed look and stuck your tongue out in disgusted exaggeration. But, you got it for him.

"Fork?" Chishiya asked, looking back up at you.

"Oh shit, yeah I forgot." You opened up your sling and pulled out two plastic forks. "I figured that there wasn't going to be any free forks in the store so I decided to bring some."

Handing him one, you were more than ready to eat the cake with him.

As both of you dipped in for the first bite, you both heard the sounds of popping in the sky which caught Chishiya off his guard.

Fireworks were in the sky. All different colors, blending in so well in the night sky.

"Would you look at that." You said in awe through the cake in your mouth. "I wonder who put that there."

"You did something, didn't you?" Chishiya looked at you, unamused but still appreciative. You could tell it through the way how soft his eyes looked. It was much softer and quite happier than usual, and you were proud.

"I may have asked some friends." You shrugged, meeting his gaze.

Both of you had not only the warm light emitting from the convenience store, but the different colors of the fireworks that temporarily glowed on both of your faces.

You thought he looked so pretty in all of the colored sparks of light. You could get used to his eyes if it were like this.

"I'm really happy and proud of you, Chish." You said all full of truth, hitting his shoulder playfully. "You need to hear it sometimes, no?"

"I guess." Chishiya answered with a shrug again, lifting another fork full of cake near his mouth. "Thanks, I think."

You chuckled, finally hearing those words come out of his mouth felt so satisfying to you. You were even sure he never really said it all to anyone. The sparks in the sky continued to flash in the sky all so beautifully. "Don't mention it."

Maybe he could get used to this, having someone like you. It made him feel all warm and proud for once.

#aib #alice in borderland #alice in borderland x reader #chishiya x reader #x reader #chishiya shuntaro #aib x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #box writes #chishiya

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isabeauwolf · 3 months

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Found these fan made Overhaul videos and I have to share them!

youtube

The Overhaul we got Vs the Overhaul we wanted

This is canon now! Nothing can change that now because of quirks literally everything he's warning her about is real; as messed up as that sounds, I know, I know! It's soooo fucked up and dark as f.

I mean, his fear of quirks is not unfounded. He just goes about it in a psychopathic way, and I can see him justifying to himself what he's doing to Eri for that reason.

Pff, trying to be more logical for a minute, without simping over this man.

Anyways, Overhaul calling himself her "mother" is an image I can’t get out of my head now XD

The art style is so smooth, and the expressions are so good!

youtube

Alternate Universe where Shiggy and Overhaul become best friends instead of enemies

I love this version of Overhaul as well. If you notice after every charismatic response there's this little horrifying pause. Showing he knows exactly what he's doing and its all an act; the fact, that he never breaks character makes it more terrifying and sooo in character whenever he dusts Eri, puts her back together, fixes her door and then leaves.

This art style is amazing, looks like some fairly odd parents episode.

Pst, if ya'll can't tell I've got my dad's twisted since of humor. Of course, I adore Eri, wanna spoil her and hold her in my arms. Yet I still simp so hard for this man! It's immoral and crazed, but I like'em crazy. XD

Alright, night guys! Happy simping our favorite birdman!

#kai chisaki #overhaul #yakuza lover #yakuza husband #birdman #boku no hero academia #fangirl #toucan king #my hero academia #villain lover #overhaul youtube video #Youtube

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p-perkeys · 2 months

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Non Spoiler (ish) Rant About Hellverine #3

"I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending."

I'm so tired of this. Like it really, really makes me want to take a break from reading and writing and drawing and just everything because it is SO HARD to stay inspired when you have jack shit to work with.

For starters, why can Akihiro not break free from the cycle of "I'm Using You But I Prefer Your Father"? Totally understand how hard the Romulus backstory hits, but Marvel, we do NOT have to just recycle that storyline over and over and over again. It did its damage the first time around. Sabertooth recycled this in Uncanny X-Force. And then again in Sabertooth War. I know it's happened other times with other people, I'm just too lazy and irritated to think back on it at the moment.

I physically cringed reading the last page because whyyyyy did I see it coming a thousand miles away? At this point just kill Logan babes.

Kill Logan.

He's old and crinkly. Clearly we're running out of ideas for his story.

Kill him instead.

What's the purpose of killing Akihiro in Sabertooth War, teasing bringing him back in Hellverine, just to end #3 this way? Like, what is the *intellectual* purpose? From a storytelling perspective, who in editing said "Yes Percy, I absolutely think you should rewrite the SAME STORY that was JUST DONE and just barely change the details. ACTUALLY!! Reuse even older storylines! Will anyone notice?? Noooooo!! Of course not!"

Here's a thought: Could've saved Talon for this story line. Kill off an extra, useless Laura, Logan gets his dead kid and I'm such a sad, sad lonely wolf man angst, and the original sniktblings remain unscathed. Boom!

I say again - when Logan KILLED his own son, it's kinda hard to just keep killing him again and again and expect Logan to be just as devastated. At this point, is he not tired of his son being dead because of him?? Like even in his own universe, is he not thinking 'wow this sure happens a lot... lets go ahead and reverse this'??

And how is Akihiro's healing factor not doing a damn thing?? Theoretically, if his body was put back together even in his grave, he should have/could have healed. And if you wanna argue that, then him being revived - even with a demon - would have been enough to give him the energy and life to self-heal. No one can argue with me about this. His healing factor SHOULD WORK. There is literally no reason for it not to. None at all. And if you still wanna argue that even though you can't, then how come Marvel can magically resurrect characters with their magic writing powers just because but for some reason Akihiro is just really, really dead right now??? The math isn't mathing babe it just isn't.

WHERE THE FUCK ARE HIS SISTERS? At this point I'm legitimately pissed about this glaringly obvious lack of knowledge on a key character. Clearly no one knows what they're doing with this story. Laura and Gabby would be sadder than Logan because Logan historically doesn't give a shit. Why do we get to see sad Logan 500x but nothing from the people in Akihiro's life who CONSISTENTLY were there? Again - bad writing! Bad editing! Can tell they do not do their homework! This is very obviously a LOGAN story and Akihiro, yet again, is just the thick-it powder to mix in runny shit that otherwise lacks substance!

I'm well aware that I am going OFF but I really, really am so unsatisfied with this story. I am clinging to the smallest thread that maybe... MAYBE... someone somewhere will save the day and #4 will reveal a plot twist. Genuinely don't think they're educated enough to pull that off tho. Feel like they know nothing about Akihiro.

"Logan... dad...?" Uh, since when??? Since WHEN??? Show me where that change happened????? Hm????????

If they are really going where they implied they're going with this, I will lose my mind. It's already lost, but I'll lose it even more.

I also started like 3 one-shots to work this out and I just can't. Like the inspiration is dead right now. I'll have to wait until #4.

I really hope that I feel like an idiot when #4 comes out. I really hope it comes full circle and I go "ohhhhhhh THAT'S what they were doing!" but :) I am borrowing hope that I don't actually have :) so :) In conclusion,

Percy, you are a twat and I hope you have a nightmare tonight.

#hellverine #akihiro #daken akihiro #fang #logan howlett #wolverine #wednesday spoilers #new comic wednesday #i read the first half of the page and had so much hope and i got to the bottom and it just........#i'm so over itttttttttttttttttt

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clarajohnson · 10 months

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the magicians s2e3

eliot giving a real and that's what you missed on glee performance to start the episode

ta fucking da (i am in love with him)

rhinemann ultra is possibly my favorite spell name in this show. certainly the most memorable. i point at the screen when they say it.

lmao i forgot they didn't take care of the cursed thrones yet

if i had been abandoned in rural ren faire land with a spouse i didn't choose and my best friend and crush and crush's girlfriend returned with matching tattoos i would go crazy even without a cursed throne

oo-surpers... yoosurpers.

We're Fine :-l

god i hate to always be the one pointing out when these characters are hot but cursed throne quentin... is kind of hot

of course cursed throne alice is also hot but that's no different than any other alice

jesus you're acting like this is your first regicide

i forgot how often penny is on eccentric mega-personality genius babysitting duty

hiiiiiieeeee marina

she's literally the best i'm such a fan of her character this watch

I FORGOT MY BEST FRIEND HARVEY GUILLEN IS IN THIS !!!!!! BENEDICT I'M ALREADY SAD FOR YOU

i make maps, your majesty ??

be nicer to fen, penny, that's my (tumblr user han clarajohnson's) wife

a benevolent mommy who will solve my problems with her gaia problems? literally marina call me any time anyyyyyy time THE LEATHER SKIRT ARE YOU JOKING

i may truly skip the cupcake scene when it happens i'm already worried about it. it was genuinely my least favorite scene of the entire show last time.

you couldn't hit a fat girl with a fat-girl-seeking arrow... i like it but i don't love it

margo releasing her cacodemon that early is so crazy like without a curse i'm sure she never would've done it and it feels like the writers were just so enchanted by the concept they wanted to use it again. and then they like, didn't use it ever again lol?

you shot me, you cock !!!!!!!

ah yeah i will be skipping all the marina reynard stuff sorry

fen with a crossbow is very pleasing to me

sorry it's like 50% horniness and 50% i love how crazy this show is and what it lets all its characters do, you know?

what's best in life? to crush your enemies ??!!!! i love you cursed throne margo

is it wrong to say i find her death extremely satisfying WHAT DID SHE MEAN BY THAT

PLEASE the noise q makes when el extracts the syringe

alice being disturbed by feeling her cacodemon under her skin is so fun. high fantasy autistic texture aversion.

man it sucks skipping the marina reynard scenes because she's my best friend and wife of twenty years

love the cool dude magic music they use to really emphasize how fun tutting is

MARINA GET THE LEO BLADE DO IT DO ITTTTTT

once again alice is the most not-grown-up extremely mature child in the world tell me why she's about to save the entire fucking universe and she wants a sundae with gummy bears on top

all i can handle right now is a goddamn ice cream sundae !!!! this feels like a trap !!!!!

i remember hating q during this argument and i don't hate him now but it does still kill me that he thinks now is the time to have this conversation. also don't make alice cry quentin

idk how olivia taylor dudley does it but she has this wretched little about-to-cry voice that kills me every time

i have... befouled... the wellspring

god i so don't care for ember i find him unpleasant and unnecessarily grody but i do enjoy the weirdo wellspring twist

i, like the magicians writers, forgot that q incurs an injury for which he will lose an arm

to our pretty corpses :'-)

i love el and margo's casual intimacy they are the sweetest friends

in 2016 "full harry potter part seven slash eight" was still a funny joke. I Assume.

(everyone chanting) NIFFIN! NIFFIN! NIFFIN! NIFFIN! NIFFIN!

perhaps the most pathetic q has ever looked up until this point

if i had a nickel for every time a quinn child had niffined out...

can't not say it niffin alice is so scary hot

aw margo apologizing to alice is so sad once again this character has LAYERSSSSS

feels really revealing that q chose el and margo over alice idk

now i'm not going to say that between quentin and marina as characters i'd choose to change marina's death... but between marina and anyone else i'd choose marina

#now we're into the good shit #unauthorized magicians rewatch #the magicians #text

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lloydfrontera · 2 years

Note

I just love that Kim Suho is the reformed Lloyd frontera and Lloyd frontera is the reformed Kim Suho, and now you know what? Your kimi no nawa au makes so much sense man, Suho and Lloyd really are........

it just??? it's so??? i literally sort of screamed when i got to that part i swear-

honestly... kinda made sense? except it also felt like a plot twist? idk it always felt a bit strange that lloyd and suho's lifes paralleled each other so much but i always attributed that to, well, plot being plotty y'know? it could've been a coincidence, meant to highlight the protagonist's qualities and characteristics and while it was very convinient it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. it's normal for isekai novels to have protegonists strangely well suited for the novel they wake up to. it's a common trope. but the reveal that kim suho is lloy frontera reincarnated? that this was fate deciding lloyd gets another chance to be a better son, a better brother, a better friend and a better person? it recontextualizes everything.

suddenly it's not just suho choosing to be kind and a good person despite everything he went through (altho, i do think that's still very much part of the narrative, after all he did lose all memories of his previous life so this doesn't take away from suho's own agency but it does add a new layer to it), now it's also lloyd choosing to be better person that he was before, it's the tiny part of him that still remembers his regrets pushing him to be kinder, to be responsible, to be better. it's correcting the mistakes he'd made and repairing the damage he'd done.

it's very poignant in the way only a reincarnation story can be

AND ALSO YEAH I KNOW i joked in that post that there was a point in that au where lloyd and suho start blurring their edges together because of spending so much time pretending to be the other but this takes it to a whole new level. it sorta makes it fall apart but i'm choosing not to acknowledge that. i can handwave it just like bk moon did with everything happening just because javier made a wish upon a star.

it could be a glitch in the universe that recognizes they're the same soul in different bodies but keeps mixing them up. maybe i could even connect it by making it so it's javier who causes the glitch in the first place. maybe lloyd does something to him that upsets him but someone tells him to "be patient. someday he'll grow up. as time passes he'll be a new person" and tiny javier who's tired of being told to be the bigger person whenever lloyd and he fight just grumbles "well i wish he'd be a new person already"

and if it just so happens that a shooting star crosses the sky at that moment, well... he is the protagonist after all. the world does tend to bend itself in order for him to be at its center.

#hey i got an ask #lunacurse #the greatest estate developer spoilers #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #kim suho #kimi no na wa au #i'm so sorry i literally cannot shut up ajskldjla #god can you imagine if tiny javier realizes it was his wish that made it so lloyd and suho keep exchanging places #like he's more ready to believe it was him wishing something that made it happen than adult javier would be #but also he'd have to grow up knowing it was him that made his friend's life way more complicated #and he can't even bring himself to truly regret it! because that's how he got his best friend! but it's also very hard for lloyd and suho!#he's very conflicted :(#tged

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heartbrake-hotel · 1 year

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Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."

#blurb #ask #goddamn will they EVER let each other finish a sentence.???#sorry dialogue is Not my forte 🙈 im a prose kinda girlie hardcore #also yahhhh i just kind of . totally abandoned the ending to cater to my h/c fantasies. sorry not sorry 😎#halfway thru the second block of bullets i realized the hc format was completely pointless and i had basically written a full fic #on the other hand im nothing if not a stubborn bitch so.. not changing the formatting now.!#if u think about this too hard u start to see a lot of plot holes #or at least further questions about the specificities of vamp lore in this au #to that i would recommend u pls ignore them 🥰#GODDD i started writing this directly in the ask. like a fucking FOOL #knowing FULL WELL how this stupid post editor not only eats ask drafts for breakfast and spits out their bones #but ALSO that the even STUPIDER copy/paste restrictions would hit #since theres a character block limit separate from the character POST limit 🙄#so ive had this tab open for almost a week and have just been walking on eggshells around my laptop praying to not lose it dfghj #MASSIVE SIGH OF RELIEF TO POST IT TBH #also smitty ive got a sidenote for u as well but its gonna go on main lmao. one sec #oh god............ just realized i did the ff.net thing with the in-text ANs 😳😳#pOST CANCELLED; EVERYBODY GO HOME

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