#but part of me deeply believes that the parent/child of it all ruins it. like our relationship is an obligation that we can't really opt out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starryoak · 3 months ago

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So! That Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon sure is a great show! So much so that I made an OC for it! Please click the link so you can see it where tumblr doesn’t ruin the quality

The thing is, though? I kind of came up with her to fix the most significant flaw I saw in the ending, one that I’m not sure anyone else is going to be insane enough to actually think is a flaw like I do.

The thing is, this flaw is connected to some pretty major endgame spoilers, so if you don’t want to be spoiled, you really can’t stick around; this entire character’s story is intimately tied to the ending of Dungeon Meshi.

Ok! So, to start off, explaining my perspective requires knowledge of one fact; Marcille is my favorite character in the series, for one specific reason. I am extremely thanatophobic.

I have an intense, all consuming fear of death that used to leave me literally wracked with actual physical pain from the nightly panic attacks I would have obsessing over my own impending mortality, something that only stopped because I take intense mood dampeners, not because I ‘got over it’.

So, obviously, Marcille’s backstory and motivation resonated deeply with me, her fears and obsessions over her friend’s mortality, the omnipresent specter of death trailing behind her stealing all her loved ones away, how she grew up with the looming knowledge of her father’s increasing age and his inevitable passing, something that hit me even harder because not only do I do the same thing, obsess over my parents increasing age, but Marcille’s dad physically resembles my own.

Her goal of equalizing the lifespans of the races, ultimately… I think it’s a noble one! It is the ultimate injustice of living that death is inevitable, one that I genuinely believe is worth solving. I don’t actually know if we ever will, it is probably impossible… but that doesn’t mean we should give up. Back in the 1300s, smallpox was inevitable. Now, it doesn’t exist outside of a lab! For most of human existence, half of all people died before puberty. Now, child mortality is down to less than 5%. https://xkcd.com/1520/ sums it up pretty nicely.

And then, the ending of the series. Well. Look. It’s not just that I disagree with how the series ends with “well, if you just eat right and exercise, that will release you from grasping your own mortality”. I mean, it is a lot that. But I’m used to series ending with some form of “people with a healthy fear of their own mortality are evil/insane/stupid/cowards”, hell, most characters genuinely afraid of their own death in media are villains!

Not only that, to a certain extent, it’s very logical that the series end with a moral about accepting the circle of life. It’s inevitable when the series focuses so much on food, because death is an unavoidable part of that cycle; to eat, we must kill. Even vegetarians can’t escape that fact, with how much we’ve learned about how plants are more alive than we once thought.

It's not that the series ended with that moral that bothers me, or at least. I wouldn’t be as bothered as I am, if it was just that. There’s another couple aspects to the ending that I feel were mishandled. One of them is one I think that if most people were honest, would also agree, or at least understand why I think it’s a misstep, and one that only someone who’s insane in the exact same way I am would even care about in the first place.

I’ll start with the reasonable criticism first; I think, if they wanted to really sell me on the idea that Marcille is truly changed and has come to accept death as a natural consequence of life like she says she has when they discuss the potential of Falin’s resurrection failing… Falin should have died, then.

It’s not that I’m not happy she’s alive, or that I don’t want her and Marcille to be together, but rather, it rings extremely hollow to me to have Marcille go “Oh, I’ve learned to accept death, after all of this journey, if Falin’s resurrection fails, I can accept that.” and then have her not have to test that newfound conviction.

It feels too convenient, like the series couldn’t actually commit to that moral fully. Beyond that, if anything, I would think that the journey they went on would make Marcille more firm in her desire to resurrect Falin, if anything.

But I can understand the logic they want you to go with, I just think that it feels like a cop-out to try and sell me on this “death is the natural consequence of life” moral, and then go “oh, except for Falin. Falin gets to live, because she deserves it.”

Why does she deserve it more? Why did you say all that if not to set up the failure? So you could reassure us “don’t worry, Marcille doesn’t have those naive, stupid ideas about improving the lives of the short lived races anymore, she’s learned better! Now she understands that some people just deserve to live longer than others!” Admittedly, that’s me being uncharitable, but it just feels wrong to me.

Now, onto the second, more insane person critique, one that I don’t think anyone but me even thought about, and one that I think most people would think is being too nitpicky.

But the thing is, it relates to the worldbuilding, and as much as people will likely want to tell me “you’re thinking too hard about a minor aspect of worldbuilding”, the thing is that Dungeon Meshi, above all, is very obviously a labor of love from the creator, and she clearly thinks about her worldbuilding a lot!

So it feels like saying that I’m overthinking it is dismissing her intricately crafted world as not worthy of engaging with fully. You can’t have it both ways, where you only want people engaging in your worldbuilding if they’re saying something positive.

Anyway; it has to do with a very minor, throwaway panel in the discussion of the history of the Winged Lion/demon’s interaction with the world outside its dimension in chapter 87; where it’s revealed, offhand, that the differences in lifespan between the races is in and of itself caused by the demon granting wishes, as can be seen here.

And. Well. That sits wrong with me. What happened to the conviction that it’s inherently wrong and twisted to use the demon’s powers? What happened to the conviction that they need to reverse all the changes that the demon forced on the world? Oh, so, since it happened so long ago, it’s no longer a problem? It’s only a problem when someone wants to use the demon to equalize the lifespans?

And I realize it’s insane to care this much about such a minor, throwaway line, but honestly? I think both my complaints about the ending stem from the same root frustration with the hypocrisy of it. Death is natural and worth accepting, except Falin’s death, then she deserves to live because her friends worked so hard for it. The demon’s powers are inherently wrong to use and must be reversed, except when it happened thousands of years ago, then it’s just the way things are and we have to get used to it.

What bothers me especially is how unforced of an error it was. Just have the differences in lifespans be because the world is a fundamentally cruel and unjust place, like it is in real life! You don’t have to ‘explain’ it, because it’s not something that needs explaining.

But now that you’ve brought it up, suddenly I have to ask, well, why were their demon wishes valid and not Marcille’s? Because you said that the demons powers were inherently warped and twisted and that they had to undo all of the damage it caused. And I do agree that the demon was causing damage and needed to be stopped! I just dislike the hypocritical criticism of Marcille’s entirely reasonable desire to not outlive all her loved ones by centuries.

Anyway. So, how does this tie into my OC? I’ll get to that!

This is Lymsie Bens, and she’s a half-foot mage, something that, if you remember, is actually a fairly rare thing for her to be! So how did this come to be, considering Chilchuck says that most half-foots fear higher magic, on account of them being unwilling test subjects for elves whenever they got too close?

Lymsie grew up the daughter of an older couple of relatively rich and very well off half-foots, Benbur Sams and Pamsie Hobs, living in a town in the Eastern Continent not all that far from the magic school that Marcille and Falin attended, and ever since she was young, she grew up with one thing weighing on her mind; The deaths of her parents.

Oh, no, her parents are still alive! Even by the time of this picture!

But she still knew it would happen. She loves her parents, more than anything in the world, and she would look at them every day and count the grey hairs, the wrinkles, small as they may be, considering they’re half-foots, and look youthful for far longer than the other races.

As much as the other races wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at them, they were old! Or at least, older than most couples usually are when they had children, and Lymsie was incredibly aware of it every time she looked at their faces, and saw them getting older and older.

And that didn’t even get into her own fears. As a child, she tried to befriend the gnomes that went to the private school her parents had sent her to, one that had mostly gnomes and where she was one of the only half-foots, and while racism meant she didn’t succeed very often, the times she succeeded, she would always end up having to graduate friends within the year.

She would find herself outgrowing them quickly, and her friends would look at her with pity, like she was just seconds away from keeling over, like they shouldn’t get too atttached to someone who would die so soon.

It made her realize something that left her feeling cold and scared; she was going to die. And not only was she going to die, she was going to die far sooner than she wanted. Well, she didn’t ever want to die, but she especially didn’t want to die so soon!

Eventually, she started feeling bitter and resentful about the whole thing, how unfair it was. Not just that the long lived races had all the power and money, but that they had the lifespans they did at all!

And maybe it would have been easier not to resent them as she grew up if making friends didn’t get harder and harder as she grew up, as kids started picking up prejudices from their parents and started caring about their social status enough that they don’t want to be seen being friends with a half-foot… maybe she would have grown up a little more well adjusted.

As well, while the private school was definitely fancy by the standards of half-foots, it wasn’t a very affluent one for gnomes, and as such, the magic they taught was rudimentary at best.

The teachers clearly didn’t expect the half-foots to get anything out of the classes, to the point where they were practically left alone the whole period, while the teachers focused on the more ‘promising’ students.

But Lymsie wasn’t willing to let that happen to her, to be left behind like her fellows; she wanted to learn magic if it was the last thing she did. She knew there had to be a solution to her problems with magic.

So, despite the teachers’ prejudices, she applied herself, and she forced them to acknowledge her skills. They didn’t like it, but they had no choice but to recognize her skills for what they were; extraordinary, especially for a half-foot, a race supposedly predisposed against magic.

After Lymsie graduated from school with the highest honors that the school was willing to give her, she found herself looking for higher education in the arts of dungeon and healing magic, having learned all she could at the level she was at.

She first tried to apply to the highest magic school nearby, the same Marcille and Falin attended, but there was a problem. The school refused to accept a half-foot, even if she easily passed the requirements.

A half-foot simply didn’t have the raw magical talent that was required for higher learning, you see. No matter how she begged or pleaded, she couldn’t change such a simple fact of biology.

Lymsie wasn’t satisfied. If she couldn’t get into that school, there were others in the world. She simply would have to say goodbye to her parents, secretly fearing, no matter how ridiculously, that they would die before she could get back.

Her parents supported her in her endeavors to learn magic; they were proud of their daughter’s accomplishments and how far she’d come, even if privately they felt her goals unrealistic.

Lymsie eventually found a school willing to teach her, but it was an uphill battle. Magic schools just weren’t made for half-foots; it was a struggle to use furniture made for elves and tallmen, but she refused to give in. Simple setbacks like a little discomfort wouldn’t stop her.

She poured herself into research, defying those who coddled her, cooing over how cute it was she was even trying, when everyone knows that half-foots simply can’t channel the mana required for true magic.

She focused her research on the magic of healing, the art of resurrection had to be connected somehow! She knew there had to be more to it. As she researched more, it became clearer and clearer that there was something missing to the discussion, some secret hidden and kept out of textbooks, and she wanted to find it.

Lymsie’s research deepened, spending her days glued to every book she could find in the library, excelling in her studies and at every test, she was making a name for herself among the school for her talents.

In truth, it wasn’t exactly a good reputation she was garnering. Her stubbornness and bitter affect didn’t make her many friends, something she eventually realized herself, but it was too little, too late.

She couldn’t win back people who were determined to see her in a bad light, for having the opinions she did and the skills she had, so she pressed on ahead anyway. Eventually, she had learned everything she could through conventional means, and she had a choice.

She could head back home to her parents, accept defeat against the insurmountable weight of her own mortality, live out the rest of her life content she had beaten the odds and learned what she could.

Or, she could keep searching. Keep pushing the boundaries she had come across in her research, the walls she had encountered that seemed deliberately put up to stop her from attaining her goals.

There was only one choice for Lymsie, in the end. To keep going. In truth, she already knew where to look, though only because of warnings to stop; dark magic. Of course she had heard the rumors, of powerful magic that elves possessed, of how they would kidnap half-foots for cruel experiments to test the limits of what magic could do.

While she had heard those warnings, the idea didn’t dissuade her; in fact, it excited her. There was potential, magic beyond what she had learned, if only she could find it. It meant there were people out there testing the limits of what could be done with magic!

If she could learn what the secrets were to it, the power could be hers! The idea of being spirited away, of experiments that stretched the boundaries of conventional magic, it was a dream!

It didn’t matter to her that it could be dangerous, it became a private fantasy of hers, to imagine herself whisked away to the land of the elves, to see magic beyond her wildest dreams.

Lymsie would dutifully send letters to her parents informing her of her research, but she kept her fantasies and pursuit of dark magic secret. She knew that her parents would worry for her if they found out she had such dangerous intentions. She didn’t want them to worry, though not enough to stop her search, of course.

She chased after every rumor of dark magic she could, though she began to learn the art of not being a colossal bitch to everyone she meets, of playing into stereotypes to get what she wanted.

It never seemed to get her closer to her true goal, the rumors of ancient magic not enough to satisfy her ultimate desires, no elves willing to indulge the fantasies of a single half-foot, until one day, out of nowhere, the sky opened up.

From massive tears in the fabric of the sky itself, long and terrifying arms descended down and began to pluck people out of their homes and villages, massive eyes peeking out from the dark void beyond the stars above.

Destruction rained, for a brief moment, the world itself seemed like it was going to end. But what Lymsie saw was the culmination of everything she had ever hoped for. Ancient magic, pouring out from the heavens themselves, right there for her to see.

And then it stopped. As quickly as the chaos began, it ended, and with it, Lymsie saw her dreams falling away as well. She knew then, she had to discover what happened. Whatever it takes, she knew that she would do it. Her goals, for once, finally seemed to be in reach!

Even with the desire of elves to keep their ancient magic hidden, in the end there was very little they could do to hide what had happened; the secret of the dungeon’s magic became known. The infinite well of energy that existed beyond the stars, the malevolent will that only desired to feed, and, of course, the entire kingdom that had sprung up overnight.

Rumors flew, of the king who had conquered and devoured the demon, and what was more, of the mysterious mages that had ruled the kingdom before him. The lunatic mage, who rumors say had cursed the kingdom with immortality, it was confirmation; the impossible could be done. Magic could free her from the shackles of her fate.

There were even more rumors, of resurrections and ancient magic, so much that Lymsie couldn’t discern fact from fiction. They couldn’t all be true, could they? She would never know, unless she tried.

She set out to the Golden Kingdom, to uncover the truth at any costs. It was a long and grueling journey to be undertaken alone by someone so small, but her affluence helped lighten the load. Though nothing could keep the travels from being long, it became clearer and clearer as she kept on, that the Golden Kingdom was alive with ancient magic, a kingdom that had been touched so deeply by the past that the very ground was charged with mana.

She was singleminded in her goals, to seek out the truth of what had happened that day, to uncover the center of this grand mystery. And luckily, the kingdom was abuzz with travelers, it seemed that whatever had happened had left the kingdom in dire need of subjects, and they were accepting anyone.

Moreover, they were accepting anyone, of any race. Lymsie had never met a kobold or orc before in her life, and suddenly she found herself surrounded by them. Not only that, but they were welcome as much as any other.

Lymsie tried not to hope, tried not to let herself believe that she could be accepted as well, if other ‘lesser’ races had found themselves welcome, could she be as well? It was almost frightening to imagine after how long she had spent being rejected by others.

There came a point, as Lymsie settled into her base of operations (she refused to call it a home without her parents beside her), that she realized there was nowhere else to look but to the castle itself. The newly crowned royals were the center of all of this, she was sure.

She investigated every rumor, every errant piece of information she could, playing the conscientious citizen who simply needed to know what kind of place she was living in. She was but a small and simple half-foot who didn’t want trouble, you see.

She received bits and pieces of information that told the story of a small circle of the highest echelons of the kingdom, who had come from nothing; privately, she suspected this to be a falsehood.

Who could believe that elves would not have swooped in to appoint their own leaders? She suspected that this tale of simple adventurers rising to power through their wits and guile was simple mythologizing, something all dynasties did to establish legitimacy.

The king, who had devoured the demon, who had destroyed the only hope Lymsie had of solving her problems, and the sister who was rumored to have been resurrected from certain death, beyond anything anyone had done before, the half-foot who ran the adventurer’s union, at the side of royalty? It was so unbelievable that Lymsie had to uncover the truth of it all.

The sister of the king, the one who the most fantastical and obviously false rumors had claimed to be a dragon, was clearly the center of what had happened, and Lymsie knew she had to reach her. If rumors of her death were in any way true, she was the key to everything Lymsie desired.

Sneakily, she began to worm her way upward. With her money, it wasn’t hard to establish herself among the elite half-foots, and though she had no real interest in adventuring, she joined the half-foot’s guild, happy to pay their fees if it meant she could learn more about the mysterious leader who supposedly had ties to the king.

Asking around, it became clear, the rumors were true. He indeed knew the king and his mysterious sister. Waiting for her moment, one day, it happened. A woman walked into the guild while the leader was there, and Lymsie knew instantly, this was the mysterious sister of the king.

Mana radiated off of her like a flame radiated heat, and her eyes were a sight that sent Lymsie off, her predatory gaze giving her an unnatural and threatening aura. Lymsie watched as the union leader talked with the dragon woman, something that Lymsie had no choice now but to believe was true.

Lymsie couldn’t interrupt, but she now knew her target. She would talk to this woman. Discover the secrets she had hiding that had summoned the demon into this world. She approached the union’s leader warily, approaching the subject as casually as she could; was that the king’s sister? Were the rumors true?

She kept it as light and airy as she could, that this was mere gossip to her. The leader was cagey, unwilling to give up any information of substance, as he rightly pointed out it was none of her business.

Realizing she had nothing more she could learn from the leader, she watched as the woman left the union and slipped out as well, staying as far as she could from the very obviously dangerous girl while still keeping her in eyesight, she was surprised to see the king’s sister stop to talk excitedly with another woman… or at least, she assumed she was a woman, given she had so little experience with orcs, she wasn’t sure.

She waited until the king’s sister was long gone, and walked up to speak with the orc woman.

The woman (my friend @vacamariposa’s OC! Thanks for letting me borrow her) introduced herself to Lymsie as Vur, and Lymsie suddenly realized that she had heard rumors about an orc working at the castle, something that many of the Golden Kingdom’s inhabitants found relevant for reasons that Lymsie very deliberately didn’t want to know.

As Lymsie tried to play her usual weaselly and evasive probing game, she found that the orc woman happily would gossip about the dragon woman, whose name was apparently Falin, and about any topic that Lymsie asked. Asking about Falin gave her a veritable wave of information, as Vur was apparently friends with the woman, and she got to hear outlandish stories of how the kingdom’s first feast was apparently made with the body of the dragon that Falin had been transformed into.

But what was more interesting to learn wasn’t anything about Falin, but rather came up when Lymsie asked how on earth a woman could have ended merged with a dragon; she learned of another woman she had never heard of before, an elf named Marcille.

Apparently, there was another mage the kingdom had besides the lunatic, and what was most interesting to Lymsie was how the orc gossiped of the elf’s strange obsessions with ancient magic; neuroses that landed dangerously close to her own.

Though Vur didn’t know her nearly as well as Falin, she still was able to tell Lymsie where she could find this mysterious elf, though Lymsie privately wondered if she should have been so willing to divulge these things to her, she thanked Vur and prepared to meet this mysterious Marcille woman.

Which lead to the fated meeting between minds who, by all rumors, would have to agree. Lymsie woke up early in the morning and headed to the castle. Being a half-foot made sneaking in perhaps easier than it had any right to be and definitely was because they assumed anyone who’d have problems with Marcille would be likely to be another elf, but in the end all it took was some minor trespassing on castle grounds.

And, as Lymsie knocked on the door, she was greeted by the surprisingly unassuming face of the mage who had apparently brought the demon to the surface, and introduced herself as a researcher of ancient magic.

“I sincerely apologize for my actions as lord of the dungeon!” were the first words out of Marcille’s mouth, at the same time as Lymsie asked “Are you still pursuing your research?”, answering her question in a way Lymsie truly hadn’t expected.

What do you mean, you’re sorry? You perform feats of magic that I’ve been dreaming of my whole life, and you’re apologizing!? Lymsie couldn’t believe it! And, alternatively, neither could Marcille!

Marcille, flustered in her usual manner, asked how on earth Lymsie could see what she did as a good thing; all the damage the demon caused and all the lives ruined weighed heavy on her mind.

Lymsie responded that Marcille’s mission, the one she had summoned the demon for, was the most noble cause that she could think of, one that she herself pursued; the secrets of immortality.

Marcille responded, no, you don’t understand, immortality is a curse, watching your friends grow old and die around you, you lose all sense of self, she’s seen it happen!

Lymsie scoffs, of course, how expected of an elf to think of how it feels to outlive someone; newsflash, asshole, she doesn’t want to be outlived either. Marcille sputters in confusion and anger and slams the door in Lymsie’s face.

Well. That could have gone better. Lymsie isn’t giving up, she decides, and she’s back the next day, knocking on Marcille’s door, and shoving her foot in the door before Marcille can slam it in her face. Marcille snaps at the half-foot, why can’t you understand that it’s wrong to decide someone else’s lifespan for them!?

Lymsie spits back that it’s awful convenient for her then, that Marcille is doing just that by hiding the research she had worked on from the world! This back and forth goes on for hours, Lymsie getting more and more infuriated by how Marcille doesn’t seem to grasp the potential she abandoned, while Marcille grows more and more conflicted.

Everything Marcille thought she had learned over her journey, flashing before her eyes; the acceptance she had felt she had over death was slipping away, clawed from her tooth and nail by Lymsie’s acerbic arguments.

Marcille began to doubt, really, as they argued, whether or not she really was as over it all as she thought; she knew that her friends said that the secret to a long life was simply eating well, exercising and staying healthy, but her father had done that, and she still vividly recalled how he had withered away in front of her despite his supposed ‘health’. All the health in the world couldn’t erase the simple fact that death was inevitable.

Lymsie could tell her rhetoric was working, she didn’t necessarily understand the intricacies of Marcille’s neuroses, but she could see Marcille faltering, the elf not being one to hide her emotions on her face.

As the arguments continued, Marcille lost much of the acidity in her retorts; part of how she knew that her quest to conquer death was wrong was that the citizens of the Golden Kingdom already had immortality, and they had become miserable and listless over the thousand years the kingdom remained buried.

Lymsie counters that many of the citizens returned to the surface and had resumed their lives, though now aging, clearly they weren’t miserable anymore. Maybe, just maybe, they were miserable because they were trapped in a single place under the watchful eye of a lunatic who took any complaint and punished them severely for speaking out of turn; perhaps that had something to do with it?

Marcille couldn’t deny the sense that Lymsie was making, but ultimately, her friends didn’t want to live forever, they wanted to grow old and die, as much as that frightened Marcille, it wasn’t her right to decide for them that they should live alongside her; she couldn’t use the demon to make versions of them that would stay with her forever, that’s what she had learned.

Well, Lymsie huffed, that’s all fine and good for them, they can die all they want for all she cares. Marcille gasps in offense, but Lymsie presses on; you’re right, you don’t get to decide who lives or who dies or for how long. But why can’t she decide for herself? Why does she just have to accept her lifespan? Can’t there be some middle ground here?

Marcille feels a little pit in her stomach, realizing that she agrees. She’s terrified of that fact, though, terrified of falling into the habits and allure of the demon; and then Lymsie counters, why do we have to use the demon? Why can’t we research a way to live longer using the magic that already exists? Falin had been saved, hadn’t she?

How come Falin deserves to live and Lymsie’s parents don’t? As Lymsie asks that, Marcille’s heart breaks. She sees the despair on Lymsie’s face and recognizes it intimately. Lymsie explains, finally, a little softer, manipulatively; her parents are old, and she wants to spend as much time as she can with them. It’s not fair that she doesn’t have much longer with them.

As Marcille’s eyes begin to water, Lymsie realizes she might have gone too far, even as her rhetoric clearly worked, she clearly touched something deep inside Marcille she hadn’t known would hit.

Marcille sighs; she says needs some time to think this over, and shuts the door on Lymsie, who isn’t sure if she’s won or lost this argument, as she realizes she has tears on her face as well.

Marcille spends the night ruminating on everything Lymsie said; she had always thought of the difference between lifespans from the perspective of outliving everyone she knew. She had never thought about what it would feel like to be someone on the other side of the equation; living your life knowing there were things you could never do or see, because there simply wasn’t enough time.

Marcille had always seen the length of her life as a curse, as a burden she had to carry, but seeing someone who saw it as a blessing… she had never encountered that before.

Even with how King Delgal had feared death so much that it had become forbidden in his kingdom under Thistle, she had seen that as simply an obstacle to Falin’s resurrection, background dressing to an adventure and nothing more.

She knew what she had to do.

The next morning, Lymsie shows up at Marcille’s door, and instead of having to force her way in, Marcille opens the door and invites her in. Please, why don’t we have breakfast together, so we can discuss our research together?

Lymsie gasps, she can’t help but reach for Marcille’s hand and shakes it as hard as she can. Oh, thank you thank you thank you, so so so much! She knows they can do it! You were a powerful enough mage to resurrect a woman from only bones, she’s heard!

Marcille is, admittedly disconcerted how much Lymsie apparently knows about her adventure, but that’s not important, she can find that out.

Now, Lymsie and Marcille work together to find a way to equalize and extend lifespans, for the shorter lived races first, but even elves; everyone in the world deserves to have the choice to live as long as they want; healing magic should theoretically be capable of this; if they can bring people back from the dead, there’s no reason that they should just have to accept old age.

In the end, they may or may not succeed, I haven’t decided. But they certainly contribute to the nascent field of what is known as “science”, magic written down for the masses, when previously science was the domain of elves alone, and they test the boundaries of medical magic together.

Lymsie doesn’t get along very well with any of the other members of the main cast; she blames them for how Marcille was almost convinced of the divine right of longer lived races to rule over the shorter lived ones, and while Marcille protests that framing, that’s really what it boils down to, right?

Longer lived races just deserve to live longer, the shorter lived races just have to accept their fate; nobody should try to change those facts, because what if I personally like shitting myself and dying?

… yeah, Lymsie still isn’t a very polite woman. She knows Falin is important to Marcille, and she’ll act civil enough around her as long as the subject of their research never comes up. And the less said about the rest of the group, the better. Their dynamic with Lymsie is… volatile, much like her personality.

As well, the dubious spy work that she did to infiltrate the castle eventually earns her heat from the vizier, Kabru, but it’s not exactly her problem they had prepared for elves and received one angry little half-foot, she says. Kabru is simply incensed that such an egregious gap in their security existed in the first place. What if Lymsie had ill intent?… did Lymsie have ill intent? He still isn’t sure, but it’s Marcille’s choice to work with her at all, not his.

Essentially, Lymsie is my answer to the ending of Dungeon Meshi and the failings I think it has. I don’t hate everything about the ending, I truly think almost every other aspect of it is perfect, even defeating the demon itself. I just resent the framing of how equality between the races is seen as a bad thing; and no, they don’t frame it that way, but that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?

If a real life ethnic group had a life expectancy a tenth of the upper class, that would be considered the gravest injustice in the world; hell, to a certain extent, life expectancy is a matter of class; the rich can buy their health while the poor suffer and die, when we have the technology for that not to be the case!

I understand that I’m taking fictional worldbuilding entirely too seriously, but I find it fun, so I’m going to do it! This is my podium and you all are my audience to preach politics.

Lymsie’s design is inspired by several characters, though surprisingly not Frodo Baggins, despite appearances. Her hair was inspired by Barbara and Barbie from a manga called Shadows House, as well as a little bit of Rei from Persona. One aspect you may notice is that she has the same white eyes as Marcille, something IIRC no other character has, to symbolize that she sees the world in the same way as Marcille! Her outfit was inspired by the uniform of the magic academy Marcille and Falin went to, but with different sleeves, because I couldn’t figure out how to make them looked swamped on her. Maybe someday I’ll be brave enough to try long sleeves. Her clothes meant to look somewhat baggy on her, like they’re made for a child of a different race, not her size.

A lot of her personality was inspired by a specific song; “Show Me The Way” by Billy Talent; despite the song not necessarily being meant as being about the inescapable inevitability of death and only mentioning it in passing. It also works with her dynamic with Marcille, like, I can see an animatic in my head of it; I’d go into it further, but the post here is already so long that I think I’ll just save it for another time.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon spoilers #dungeon meshi oc #dungeon meshi original character #character design #long post #my art

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1eos · 4 months ago

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Prev anon, I WARNED YOU THE BOOK WOULD RAISE YOUR BLOOD PRESSURE BECAUSE OH MY GOD THE GIRL LIVED AND DIED AS SAC OF DONATABLE PARTS! I READ IT AT 16 AND CRIED SO MUCH BECAUSE SHE JUST NEVER HAD A LIFE. SHE DIED THE MOMENT SHE GOT FREEDOM. THE WORST ENDING PLOT TWIST BUT OH MY GOD. (Also I’m a bish so I was hoping other sister would finally tap out and be like “I have VASTLY overstayed my welcome on this planet at the sake of my sisters health and wellbeing” which she technically was ready to do but she ended up having a long life???? . Also white privilege is that the brother never goes to jail).

when i got to the part where the dad is like 'he wants to be punished for being a serial arsonist so i'll do the worst thing to him--giving him a hug' i thought abt the ask u sent me earlier and thought thats what u meant bc that pissed me off bad BUT IT ONLY GOT SO MUCH WORSE. like it was ooooooooooooooooooooo weird the book did all that about that child having no autonomy or choice just to kill her off and her organs donated without her conscious consent. it was such a cop out. even if she went through all that decided ykw? i DO want to give a kidney that wouldve been a bit defanged on the whole autonomy from her parents BUT deeply realistic or hell even if the car crash happened and the sister said HELL NO i do not want this kidney im ready to go. like its so odd that in this specific narrative the sister is like im done suffering i feel like such a burden bad things keep happening to my family bc of me and then her sister dies and shes in the throes of agony but just takes the kidney.

im just kinda let down bc this book requires you to 1. fill in a lot of emotional blanks. like i can fill in the blanks and say the sister took the kidney despite being ready to die earlier bc she already felt like she had to live for her mother or it would be a waste of the sisters legacy. but it wasted so much time on that useless ass love story when it couldve been fleshing out the emotional ramifications of the ending

which leads to point 2. a LOT of the parents shortcomings are just glossed over? the parents emotional neglect 2 out of 3 kids and the 3rd feels like a black hole that's ruined everyone's lives with a disease that's beyond her control but its quite clear to me the author expects us to believe the fitzsgeralds are good ppl just 'doing their best'. like its sooooooooooooo white american early 00s middle class w no care for anyone but themselves it honestly makes me fucking sick. the mother especially like basically had a favorite child and lowkey resented the son for daring to want to be loved and was clear about how the youngest was expendable. and the book emphasizing on how much she mourned 😐ok but u got what u wanted lmaoooo. like im sorry idk where i was supposed to get the feeling that she loved all 3 of her kids at all 😭😭😭😭😭 and then the brother turning his life around all bc his father negated consequences for him AGAIN. not to be a cynic but ppl don't change just with a fucking hug lmaooooo he shouldve gotten 15-20 years. gotten out in 5-10 for good behavior, started a prison outreach program and THEN maybe i'll believe he's changed.

#asks #the more i think about my sisters keeper the more issues i have with it execution wise #the author really fumbled at the end #and i didnt get why #but the book kept talking abt how anna may come off as selfish #and it dawned on me that the author probably thought if anna actually did campaign #for her own rights on her own and stuck with it ppl would call her selfish #bc not wanting to be a flesh bank for your family is condemnable in the white western nuclear orbit #so many things were expected to do just bc its 'family' and its kinda sad #and if this book was a critique on how these family units will use up young girls and #purposefully keep them as blank slates so they cant think abt how badly theyre treated #i would give it 1000/5 stars #but we're literally supposed to think theyre a family we can relate to and love and feel warm for #like no i hate you all 😭#spoilers

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mister-eames · 1 year ago

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1/? If you wrote a thesis on Arthur and Eames I would literally carry it around in my pocket & read it daily, so I’m begging you!! Please don’t spare your 5k essay on why you think Arthur thinks he doesn’t have a chance with Eames!! I Wanna know your thoughts on this!! Because I think it’s a combination of elements. Firstly I think initially Arthur truly believes Eames doesn’t like him. They’re too different. Arthur is everything Eames isn’t & vice versa. & even tho the saying goes “opposites

2/? attract”.. sometimes you just clash & that’s that.. I think at first he also mistakes Eames playfulness, his snark, quips & attempts at riling Arthur up as genuine condescension & disdain. I also read once in a fic where Arthur made a comment about how nobody likes the pointman cos at the end of the day it’s his job to pick apart everybody else’s work & point out the weaknesses. So the idea that a guy like Eames, who as a forger has one of the most creative/artistic roles in dreamshare. --- 3/3 would be interested in a guy whose role often involves probably telling people to tone it down... yeah. Not gonna happen. & then I think there’s that fear of mixing business with pleasure. The idea of ruining such a great working partnership by bringing something as messy as FEELINGS into it? I think that’s something that would make Arthur not even entertain the idea of ever having anything more with Eames because how could he ever risk losing Eames as a work partner?

---

Aha, are you ready? Obvs these are all just my headcanons, and that the beauty of inception is that the characters can be who we want them to be, all interpretations are valid, etc etc...

So, with Arthur and why I think he thinks doesn't have a chance with Eames. You're right that it's a combination of elements:

I think, at his core, Arthur like, all of us, carries some kind of emotional bruising when it comes to loving and being loved. And like, all of us, Arthur does not think he's perfect. He has self-perceived flaws. Every single one of us, as human beings, has insecurities - even Arthur. I think he uses all of the surface, logical, 'rational' arguments like not wanting to mix business and pleasure to justify not actually addressing these hurts and insecurities.

You know my personal headcanon for Arthur, generally speaking canonically, is that he did not come from money. He grew up poor with a parent that wasn't, say, well enough to be there for him the way a child would need. That he was the caretaker in the household most of the time.

And, bear with me here, on Arthur caring about his looks - Arthur is buttoned up to all hell not because of vanity, but because of how he will be perceived--- he wears his suits less like armour and more like a weapon. Arthur, to me, is scrappy, not defensive.

But despite how he presents himself, deep down Arthur still is that fourteen year old version of himself, the one that lashed out everyone Eventually, he learned to control that anger, the one that showed everyone else where he was wounded -- but he never addressed the ways he was hurt, or the parts of him that has always been deeply lonely. As an adult he isn't keen on loving anyone else because it's always been a one-way transaction. He does not know how to interpret loving someone and being loved in return. For him, what does that even look like? Arthur doesn't want to love anyone because he's never received the same output of love he gives out. And maybe he thinks something is wrong with him, for feeling affection the way he does and never truly getting it back in kind - platonic, familial or romantic.

So he wears his weaponry to keep people from getting too close to touch, figuratively speaking. And maybe Eames takes him on face value for a beat too long.

While I don't really consider Arthur and Eames to be opposites, I do think they are flip sides of the same coin. They share a basic foundation, beliefs, ethics - but can also clash where they combine. It's like when you just... get someone on a basic level, like you share a frequency without needing years of getting to know them. Like when you meet someone and you just know you must have known each other in a past life. Arthur thinks that this weird, antagonistic thing he has with Eames is something different, isn't it? Except, it isn't. It's just love, baby.

Arthur feels it, with Eames. That 'something'. Over time it develops into a feeling that is both thrum and quiet. Like his whole body is vibrating but also completely still just by being near him, thinking about him.

But, at least initially, Arthur is just too... wary to place his money on it, that feeling. It's never provided dividends before.

Which isn't to say that Eames is the one to show Arthur he is 'worth loving', or anything like that. I believe that Arthur comes to that realisation all by himself - realistically, they're both still young and young enough to be insecure at the time of the film. Late 20's, 30s? Babies, in the grand scheme of adulthood. They are only just consolidating out who they are, really. But Arthur, at some point, realizes its okay to put his sword down and be loved in a different way from those who'd said they'd loved him before. To have someone take care of him, to run point for him. He gets better at reading love languages.

And I think, to address Arthurs own insecurities -- we all also have that kind of rose-tinted view of the ones we love while thinking we are plain and unremarkable - we look at them and go fuck, you are amazing, you are incredible, you can do anything and you don't even know it, how do you not know how powerful you are?? --- that's part of it too. Maybe he looks at Eames, Cobb and Mal and thinks just that. Maybe he wonders in what world would Eames ever look at him the same way? Maybe he does underestimate his own power and he takes it all too seriously and to heart when he's not perfect. Maybe he can't look past his own fuck ups in life and in work that it truly clouds his perception of himself and his compatibility with others.

That, I think, are the basic fears Arthur has. It's like inception, right, these 'simplest version of ideas' manifest in more convoluted ones. Those fears get translated and articulated into very simple 'reasonable' arguments he hoodwinks himself with so he never has to face his own vulnerability: it would never work out. I don't like the way he does x, y, z. He is so annoying. He doesn't even like me like that. It'd be bad for business. It's not worth the risk. We're here to work.

So I think Arthur leaves his attraction to Eames like a mailbox slowly accumulating with more and more junk mail. He'll clean it out some day, pushed aside in his own mind, left unattended by him for a long time without realizing the pile is growing. On this, some of my fave fics are the ones where Arthur has this sort of... comically misbehaving subconscious because of his ignored affection for Eames. The ones where there are errant projections who fawn over Eames, or the ones where his subconscious is literally incapable of hurting him. I think Arthur is not.. repressed... as an individual, but the feelings he has for Eames are so large and encompassing and that he's tried to fit it into too small of a box, and that box is spilling out at the sides. What he feels cannot be contained or disposed of. He would be that kind of hot mess.

But, Arthur, you darling fool. The feeling is mutual.

#10000% pure self indulgence #like actually #but i don't even care #thank you so much nonnie for letting me indulge so much on Arthur and maybe go overboard on him idk cant stop wont stop it makes me happy #there's something just so remarkably human in these two #these blink-and-you'll-miss moments of vulnerability in the film #my brain can't stop latching onto reasons why arthur is a fucking disaster sweetheart of a human bean #anyway #love these two idiots forever!#arthur x eames #dreamhusbands #inception

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skrunksthatwunk · 4 months ago

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a reflection on emotional validation derived from watching horror-protagonist children Go Through It

tl;dr if you bottled up your emotions as a child and dealt with everything alone there's something comforting about watching a fictional adult swoop in to comfort their fictional child, and something else comforting about watching that child crack and bleed and suffer under the pressure alone. because hey. you've been there. that acknowledgement of their hardship, big or small, aided by adults or not, is an acknowledgement of the hardship you went through growing up, and it can be really cathartic to watch someone express that strife openly when you never did/weren't able to.

there's a pattern i've been tracking for a long time. since i was in elementary school i have found myself repeatedly drawn to stories where children are hurting. whether it's the little prince and his sunsets and his rattlesnake or simpler things, like picture book plots featuring missing stuffed animals or ruined birthday parties. children in these works often express their emotions rather directly, and their sorrow is generally uncomplicated. regardless of the actual weight of the event, they are sad, and that is something the authors felt worthwhile to depict. it may be frivolous, or brief, or easily solved. it may be deeply rooted and existential. its tone may, given the big picture, appear hopeless or hopeful, but in the moment, it is an all-consuming, gargantuan obstacle. it is despair through the eyes of a child.

when i was young and upset about something, my parents would ask me if i thought the subject of my distress was a little thing or a big thing. i believe they intended this to be an exercise in critical thinking. however, young children have limited understandings of the world. when your life has been so short, and your problems (presumably) so small, everything that goes wrong feels far worse than it is. a scraped knee or a rainy day or a cancelled field trip could be the worst thing that happened to that child for a very long time. their priorities are also different, because the way they process events is different. their perspective is both limited by their lack of experience and genuinely just different from adults.

my point in explaining this is that there is something raw, unrefined, and deeply touching about stories where children cry, at least to me. and whether they are comforted and helped through the problem by an adult (encouragingly, without complaint, and without regard to how silly the problem may seem to them), left to fend for themselves, or a combination of the two (wherein the child struggles for some time, before an adult realizes the issue, generally apologizes for not being there or not realizing what was going on, then helps them work through the issue), there is a kind of achy catharsis to it all that soothes me. i realize now that part of why this is the case is that my parents were not particularly good at or proactive about comfort, and seeing kids have their distress gently worn away by a safe, attentive, gentle, and capable force was a sort of fantasy to me. even now, i'm sometimes shocked at others' experiences with their parents, because i thought that kind of teary-eyed sentiment was something reserved for movies. i did not realize this absence, because i was like. five. and without any way to discuss or address it, without even knowing there was a problem there to begin with, i sought out comfort in fiction, through second-hand parenting.

for most of my childhood, i dealt with my emotions on my own. if i was scared of something, i usually handled it through (uh.) compulsive rituals. if i was sad, i withdrew. if i needed advice, i would seek my parents out, but never for anything beyond the practical. if i wanted reassurance, their game plan would have to do. (they were and are very solution-oriented, and i am far more emotion-oriented, in times of duress. but it's not like i knew that or could communicate that when i was 9). i played by myself, battled my fears by myself, celebrated the things i loved by myself... it took me (many, many) years to realize that people told their parents about their feelings and problems, even if they didn't really need guidance. like, genuinely, i was around 14 when i figured out that was an option and that people chose it. it had never occurred to me, like many very basic things about being alive (including highlights like "you can ask for things" and "you can say no to group activities" and "you don't have to buy clothes from this store, as there are many clothing stores, something you are quite aware of").

all this is to say that watching children process those emotions, either through an internal monologue or an external, open expression, made me feel seen. it meant it was something that mattered to those authors. treating emotion itself as something normal and upset kids as ones deserving of loving, gentle reassurance, was something novel and captivating, and something i clung to. and i know i'm not alone in that, considering how many adult bluey fans there are who claim it's healing their inner child. seeing good parenting and children being cared for properly and kids working through difficult and often relatable emotions can be a very powerful experience. my point is i'm rooting for all the little guys discussed in this essay.

now, in regards to tragedy and horror, those comforts are generally denied, leaving the child-characters alone, confused, terrified, vulnerable, and sometimes very very dead. i think it's a fairly common impulse to feel more afraid for a child in a given situation than an adult in that same situation. you could chock it up to biology or experience, but whatever it is, many people have a strong instinct to protect and care for children. so when something bad happens to a fictional child, it can feel particularly painful. it may be a strange example, but i saw a local production of les miserables around the same time i pieced together that you can talk about your feelings, and i expected to bawl my eyes out (or come closest to it) at the finale. but the most choked up i got was when little gavroche was shot. some of this is because the gunshot was very loud and it startled me, but a lot of it was because he was so young. and he believed in their cause and he died bravely and stupidly. that kind of thing really gets to me. more psychological tragedy involving young characters can also be particularly heart-wrenching. for a completely different example, see the events of hunter x hunter's chimera ant arc, and the incredible strain placed on gon and killua's friendship. neither of them are strangers to violence or physical danger, but the emotional strife is something rather new between them. they'd been close from day one, and their fights were never all that serious. they're ride or die best friends. and due to their newness to real, deep friendships (particularly on killua's part), you really feel every crack in their relationship, and how gon doesn't care even if he manages to see it, and how killua cares so much (i'm being vague because i want you (yes, you) to watch it. iykyk). the suffering of fictional children, when unresolved, when it breaks them, when it hurts and hurts and hurts and changes them, is, in a horrible, frightening way, beautiful.

more tragic/horror-inclined stories tend to focus on a loss of innocence structure, the coming of age story's evil twin. the little prince jumps (primarily) between the narrator-pilot + the eponymous prince's interactions in the desert and stories of the prince's travels. in short, he leaves his boring, small, largely safe home due to ennui and travels to a number of tiny planets inhabited by figures representing types of adulthood. kings, businessmen, lamplighters, and so on, each of whom confuse and dismay the prince more. is that what lies in wait for him outside of his home? endless, desperate, ego-driven nonsense? he makes his way to earth as well, and despite befriending his fox and the pilot, it seems his sense of dread and homesickness is only increasing. [actually i'm gonna start spoiling it now so watch out ig] in the end, the prince chooses to go home, back to his bubble with his rose and his baobabs and his sunsets, and he accomplishes this through. ah. lethal snake venom. the pilot chooses to believe he returned, as part of his renewed sense of wonder and imagination the prince inspired. he chooses to believe that the prince made it home because he and the prince were both sick of the drab realism of their lives. whether or not you believe he returned or simply died is up to you. there's a very interesting discussion to be had in a different post. either way, the prince wishes to return to his imperfect, but ultimately safe, nursery. he escapes to childhood, too soft-hearted for the world of adults. but he'll always know what he saw. it won't be the same, without the longing to know. [spoilers over get back in here]. in some cases, like gavroche's, his innocence and hope in the little people is what led to his death. he died in innocence, without coming of age. gon's loss of innocence is in his grief, and the hatred and violence with which he seeks to resolve it, which strikes the people closest to him. it's in his inability to even consider forgiveness or mercy, something he struggled with for certain figures (i.e. illumi, the phantom troupe (specifically nobunaga)), but generally let go with time, space, or a shift in perspective. others, like hanzo and genthru, escape without even a brief lingering grudge.

and, for the example that led me to write this, loss of innocence is particularly prominent in the promised neverland. as a note, i've only seen the first season of the anime, and not since i was in middle school, so. grain of salt/be patient with me here. but anyone who went into that first episode blind is going to know exactly what i'm talking about. [spoilers ahead]

tpn's s1 opening situation is, essentially, that there is a beautiful orphanage with green meadows and forests and happy, well-loved children, whose ages range from around 1-11. the children want for nothing and receive incredible educations, utilizing futuristic tools while preserving a mostly pastoral feel. the children play together, learn together, and care for each other very deeply. every once in a while, a child gets adopted. they say their goodbyes, the lucky child promises to write, and they are driven away. on one such adoption day, two of the oldest children realize the child forgot her beloved stuffed rabbit, and set out to take it to her.

they find their young friend half-eaten and their sweet, strict, encouraging, and incredibly competent caretaker discussing future shipments of this kind. they are being raised so their brains can be harvested and eaten by strange, demonic figures. and, as it turns out, they won't take brains older than twelve, an age they are quickly approaching.

(idk maybe it's cliche to YOU guys but it blew MY mind so. yeah)

what followed is some of the most tense fiction i've ever full-body clenched my way through. the elements mentioned up until now are all here in full. the children are still nurtured by isabella, their "mom", and because they can't let her know they know they're livestock, they have to pretend as if everything's normal, all while trying to find some way to free themselves and their family of ~40 younger children from their walled enclosure, without knowing anything of the outside world for certain. and, of course, they can't let the younger children know, either. their resources are all extremely limited, intensely monitored, and completely controlled by isabella. there are no contacts on the outside, no adults who can help them, just the most scared tweens i've ever seen in my life. isabella's unnatural strength and intelligence allow her to outmaneuver our main three (they rope in another one), and that's before another adult gets called in to help her, playing a big sister role. every victory feels like it could be a trap, and is still extremely fragile. every setback feels agonizing. the moments where the adults show their dominance and cruelty are just. guhhhh. bone shattering. it's a hard watch but it's a damn good watch, assuming 13 y/o me was right about it (which is a bold take but whatever). if you ever wanted a bunch of very scared very competent very endearing children plot the logistics of a jailbreak from the garden of eden baby livestock farm then like. that's what this is.

and the emotion is, to me, what makes it so compelling. these children have just had their entire world shattered, and have been immediately dumped into a worst-case scenario that they have to pretend not to know about, and are responsible for about a dozen kids each, all younger than them, and many of them actual babies and toddlers. they are bottling up and repressing as much of their fear as possible, but sometimes it inevitably slips out when they're alone, and it's just SUCH a gut punch. you get the cathartic breakdowns AND the (false) comfort AND the fear AND the repression of that emotion. they're too young to be dealing with this on their own (idk if anyone'd ever be old enough to deal with the orphan meat farm but still), and they're not allowed to be kids because every second they aren't planning their escape could be the second wasted that gets them killed. it's all there babeyy that's the shit i'm here for. and, as much as any adult bluey fan has felt bittersweetly comforted by watching parents be, like, nice to their kids or whatever (<- has not watched bluey), i feel bittersweetly comforted by watching these children undergo mental torture because i'm like damn. that's exactly how i feel all the time (<- guy whose only problems are having to fill out like 3 forms) ouhhh im so scared im right with you guys. it's emma norman ray and ME. just scared little guys against the world. but one of us is a college student who is not even close to an orphan meat farm.

anyway i stole the conclusion for the tl;dr so. i'll just put that here again. sorry it's like 6am im tired

#also i skimmed a bit of the wikipedia to make sure i wasn't Horribly wrong about anything and uh. wow. no writing credits on the last 2 eps #of s2 because it was received so badly? whewww that's kind of impressive honestly #but yeah have this unedited fucking thing #tpn #anyway i think im gonna rewatch it soon bc i somehow forgot how profoundly it changed my brain chemistry

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softedgessculptures · 7 months ago

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With each "day" that passes according to earthly terms, I realize that I came to the body of a girl whose heart cries every day.

Every day her mind wishing for peace, freedom, happiness, and health. How much she needs, needs, begs me, to be loved. I love her. But she... she still cries a lot. On my journey walking through the gardens of life, I deeply feel all the emotions that Amanda feels. I am aware that my true nature is "happiness" and "absolute peace" however, I do. I like to give Amanda the freedom to be able to process her pains and passions. "What is Amanda going to feel today?" and it's like I drown in her feelings and find a whole secret world, full of curiosities and emotions not understood. I confess that I like to feel, what it's like to be her. Amanda has big, curious eyes, always looking at the world as well. Whether it's looking at a beautiful house with gardens, or the tiniest ant that carries its food. "So fierce, so strong," she thinks. Her heart soon aches. "I wish I was strong as that"

She does the chores. Tired. Her adorable brothers, always laughing, but fighting a lot. Fights and more fights. Every day.

What she asks so much of me yet... it didn't arrive. She looks at her little old house and feels her eyes and nostrils ache in tears: "I need to do everything... but it's not like there's anything out here to achieve?" And she's so afraid. So much fear, being there is nothing to fear and I'll aways be with her to protect her from everything.

Beyond that, Amanda see couples on the street, on social media, everywhere. Smiles and more smiles, promises. A mere glimpse of touching hands makes Amanda's ears go up, and if she had a tail, she'd sure be wagging. She smiles and everything is beautiful, her cheeks burn, her heart flutters. The sweat on her hands with small cuts and burns moistens her clothes (Amanda is learning how to be a good cook) and then, her eyes double in size. "When will it be my turn?" and then... again, that familiar feeling. Sadness. Amanda has always been a girl who idealized romances since as a child, what she had inside her house was almost the total opposite of what they call "romance" here. Ah, that feeling which leads human beings to ruin.

Amanda, by the way, always had a boyfriend in mind. I know him very well, because he's also my creation but... with what she liked. I remember when Amanda dictated to me her wants and desires of her ideal partner, and I delivered everything she wanted into her imagination. She has always been, and is, so happy there. Amanda loves my home that she owns in her body, such a house called by "imagination".

She's always been around here, and she's still kind of addicted, because here I give her everything she wants without the slightest effort. Here, she is happy, free, loved, and very beautiful. Her parents don't suffer at work and she has a beautiful house, as she always asked me and still asks of me. Her mouth salivates imagining trying the foods she sees in videos, she dreams and always asks me for delicious dishes. And I, in extreme love and compassion, give it. How many dishes she dreams of.

But I wanted her to... believe more in me. To know that my house is the only real house that exists that from here, she can have everything she wants materializing for her on Earth. That Amanda's house isn't the one she has now, or any house she sees on the Internet. Her home is me, and unlike the Earth plane, here everything is ready.

Flowers, a garden, dolls, a beautiful kitchen and the husband she dreams of are already here, waiting anxiously for her. I also look forward to her. For more than my creation, she is my daughter, with a body and an ego that has been through a lot in this world and that she not only can, but must rest.

Here everything is hers, everything. I hope she realizes this soon and looks no further on Earth, outside of my home, which is part of it. I gave it away exclusively just so I could make your dreams come true, without even lifting a finger.

Nothing on Earth is real. I've given her a wonderful world, but one that she can't let herself get too carried away in order not to get hurt... but Amanda is stubborn. I love her so much, even though she longs to be loved by someone other than me and herself. She wants her prince and I'll give to her. She wants people to be happy and dreams of her friends making their dreams come true and being loved too. She just wants everyone to be okay.

I will give everything to her. I want to see her happy because by experiencing her body I can understand what she goes through, incessantly. She deserves it.

My dear. You're all set. Come to your room, your gifts, and it's all here for you. More than any material possessions, you will have the freedom and be in union with me, because you are a part of me. The womb of life. Here Amanda can sleep and eat as much as she wants, whatever she wants. I will hold her in my heart with me where she will always be warm and feel loved, for there is no love and peace like Mine.

I'm waiting for you to wake up and come to me my dear Amanda. I'm your home, your craftsman, your imagination.

From " " to Amanda.

#better save for yourself #ִֶָ 𖥔 ࣪˖ ꗃ 𝐴𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑁𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑎'𝑠 𔒌 𝑃𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑡 𝐷𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 ✐𔓘 𖠚۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ #im literally crying rn #there's still a lot to learn #a letter to myself #but who is myself #😢😢💔

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z4nstories · 4 months ago

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Sun on Beach☀️🌊

16 years ago, I was 8 years old. My brother Santos would have been 32 now, double his age back then and I suppose if he was here right now, he would have shown a smile of contentment, seeing my life right now. Happy for my peace but sorry too. So deeply sorry for the loss he probably thought he incurred on us. It wasn’t his fault though. War really has no victors especially when you’re conscripted at 16 - but I still think he should have fought to stay out of it. He missed out. Our family could have been alone on a distant shore in the east, where the sun rose in the sea and set again, inland - had he not gone out to war. Such a heavenly place I have found, away from that war. I wish, so deeply, that they could be here with me now. But they all died 16 years ago, alongside the ones already on their deathbeds, wrinkled and silver haired as well as the little ones atop their mothers chests on a hospital bed. All in a great war.

I find it funny that in the years preceding the war, we were at the peak of our civilization. Well we believed we were - and I do not think at the time, I could have imagined a world greater than that one we inhabited. All the fantasies of a past world were real, very real so much that on one Christmas day, we gave our veteran grandfather that car he wanted so dearly in his youth, except it could fly. There was no concept of an economy, no rich or poor. Just peace.

We never thought it’d come to this. Behind the sea, a few miles behind the sandy shores I sit on, there is nothing. It is as though since the outbreak 16 years ago, it persisted in remaining a battlefield. First it was a battlefield for humanity, then nature against our sins and faults. Plants don’t grow inland and birds fall from the sky if they get too close, like that one Greek story of Icarus, the boy who flew too close to the sun. But the birds were born to fly; it was us who flew too close to the sun and they had to pay for it.

As a child, my parents sacrificed their lives to save my siblings. Our eldest brother Santos was at war but the rest of us fought the world to survive. When we were hungry we found only the rotting corpses of deers, cattle and rats in the scorched fields. If we were thirsty, we met a great vast ocean and rejoiced as if victorious against a great opposition but when the first of us fell after drinking from it, we looked closely and found it was green and red in pollution and bloodshed. And it flowed on for miles. When night fell one day, one of my brothers, aged 14, took a knife to my sister’s throat then to his and by the time we arrived to intervene, it was just red and we hated him for it, but the two dead on the floor were smiling and shedding blood stained tears from their eyes. I suppose he was the smart one out of us, because soon enough, we had fled so far from ‘civilization’ that the only ones left were us. And well - we had to survive didn’t we?

In the end I lived. I believe I am the last survivor of not just my family but our species and part of me feels as though that would be quite ideal for me. I don’t think I alone could keep them from ruining this place. These golden shores turn silvery at night and are forever soft and comforting like a mother’s embrace. The ocean isn’t green anymore and there is nobody left to paint it red, which means that the fish have come once again to the shoreline and are visible through the clear water that rolls back and forth like the unravelling of a golden scroll at day and a silver one at night. When it is time to start the day, the sun greets me from the other side of the ocean; so warm and bright a greeting I had never been offered before these days.

These days are better than our futuristic civilization. I think my family would have agreed. I think humanity would have too.

Insta won't let me post this whole pic 😭

#writing #creative writing #sunrise #aspiring writer #photography #beach #ocean

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leftmysoulbythesideoftheroad · 2 years ago

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post-therapy rambling, tw for past suicidal thoughts, mentioned csa, mentioned child abuse, general trauma talk

i have a brother and a sister, and all three of us are queer. my mother changed her belief system to support us. my father did not. he doesn’t approve of just about anything we do or say, so none of us go to him for advice anymore. i’ve always felt like i needed to take care of the people around me, but now… we’re southern, you know? all of us born and raised in texas and in a baptist church three times a week, my parents included. my culture puts responsibility for the family first on the father and then on the eldest son if the father isn’t around/can’t or won’t do it. and that’s me. i’m the eldest son, even if my father doesn’t see me that way, and i’ve watched him abuse his children and our mother all our lives. there’s a deeply-ingrained belief in my head that taking care of them is my responsibility.

my mom has physical disabilities. she had several surgeries when i was young, and her back is essentially ruined. i’ve been her helper since i was a child, and i will always be there for her.

my sister went through csa and just generally a lot of horrific trauma when she was very young. when we were growing up, she relied on me as the only person she could trust, the only person she could believe would love her no matter what when she couldn’t turn to our own parents. when she had children and their father left, i became their other parent. i was, and am, her support.

my brother was six when my sister moved out and my parents were grieving their own sister. i spent time with him. i talked for him because he mumbled and adults couldn’t understand what he was saying. i made him hold my hand whenever we were in public alone. in a way, i raised him.

my nephew died when he was only three. i moved in with my sister for nearly a year, just trying to keep her alive and help care for her other son. i felt broken, like i would never be anything but jagged shards hastily taped back together, but all i cared about was them.

my brother’s partner was so suicidal they couldn’t be left alone. so who made the most logical sense to step in? their family isn’t close, and everyone in mine has a job and/or children. i’m disabled so i’m at home most of the time. i sat with them 5-6 days a week for months, retraumatizing myself in the process, until they went to a hospital.

that’s who i am. i’m a helper. is it good for me? i honestly don’t know. am i hurting myself? i try not to and my family has learned to check me on it over the years, but i know i value their feelings over my own. is that unhealthy? maybe it is, but i don’t know how to be any different. i don’t know how to exist if i’m not a helper, if i’m not taking care of someone. how could i live with myself if i left them to fend for themselves? how could i look any of them in the eye if i put myself first when they really, truly needed me? if i said ‘no’ and then something terrible happened to them? if i stepped back and merely watched as they got themselves hurt, knowing i could have stopped it or at least tried? how could i face any of them ever again?

i’ve understood for a while now that i don’t know who i am without them. the most important thing to me is to be a good brother, a good son, a good uncle. i want so much to be a good person, and i think a lot about my morals, but i would betray every one of them for the people i love. nothing, no one, could ever matter more. (which like… presents some issues for romantic relationships that i would like to have.) they’re everything to me.

really, a big part of this started because i said something to my sister that i thought was totally normal. “if everyone i love died, i would kill myself.” what would be the point of going on without them? but my sister said that isn’t okay. she wants to know that if something happens to her, i’ll be able to go on. i didn’t even know what to say. i can’t imagine living my life without them. would it even be living or just going through the motions out of obligation to them? i try to picture who i would be in that scenario and there’s just… nothing. i would be nothing. i would have no value, no affect on the world, no love to give and no ability to receive love back. i would be… nothing. that’s the only word for it. empty. alone. i can’t imagine it.

that’s probably not good, huh? not healthy? i really, truly have no idea.

#i will say: death to individualism #im not sure my way of thinking is entirely healthy but i do believe in community #people need people #but it’s possible i need my people more than they need me?#question mark because i don’t really think so but a logical part of my brain says it might be true #feel free to reply or dm me or whatever but i’m just getting my thoughts out so there’s no need to worry about me

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lokisprettygirl · 2 years ago

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The Bodyguard (Loki x Female reader) (Au) (18+)

Read chapter 29 here// Series Masterlist

Chapter 30

Summary : Loki begs for an apology. He begs.

Warning : 18+, Heavy Daddy kink, Smut, Violence, Mentions of self harm, murderous thoughts, Mention of Suicide, Rape, abuse, sexual violence, Harsh language, bodyshaming, fatshaming, mention of neglect and abuse, emotional abuse, Unhealthy Eating Patterns, blackmail, starving and under eating, implied smut, mention of drug use, some weird feeding kink I’m (loki is) developing

Trust me the gif will fit later

Three days, you didn't come out of your room in three days, he was dying inside more and more every second he didn't hear from you, you ignored his calls, his texts, the knocks on your door late at night, he was so scared that he'd lose you forever, he already had lost your trust and love as well probably but he would never forgive himself if you were to do something awful. But then you allowed Peter to see you and not him, that hurt him alot but he had no right to even argue with you anymore.

That night you shoved him out of your room, he tried to apologize, to talk to you, to get through you, to get that sweet innocent girl out of you that he mercilessly killed with his own hands but you didn't listen to him. And he didn't blame you either, you two had your whole life to share secrets with each other but he allowed the moment of insecurities to ruin his y/n, he broke you all over again and he didn't even feel worthy of you anymore. He didn't deserve to even be in your presence.

You came to talk to him that night and he kept thinking about that particular moment when you stood outside his door with a hopeful look in your eyes, the memory was so vivid, your face was damped because you have been crying he could tell, you wanted to fix things and that's what he wanted too but he fucked up. If Katlyn wasn't there you would have gotten in maybe and cleared his confusion but he had hurt you so deeply by choosing to fill his head with the doubts planted by someone he knew was out to harm you in every way.

He told you that you would fall for anyone, that you were just a child, he crushed and stomped on the safe haven he had built for you and only he was to blame for all of this, not Katlyn not anyone else, she was just doing what she has always done to you. He allowed her to mess with him.

On the 4th day you finally stepped out and he didn't see his y/n, the girl that clung to him that day so he wouldn't leave her, he couldn't see the girl that dressed up for him and was excited to see him all day. He had lost you and the thought was breaking him every second, but a part of him was relieved to see you, even if you ignored his existence he was happy to see you alive and well.

He wanted to apologize, he wanted to do so much more than just apologize but he didn't know how. He listened to the audio of you confessing your love for him that night with Peter, why didn't he just listen to this? He wondered and then he realized that if he needed constant proof of your love for him from you, then did he really deserve to be with you? You poured your heart out and he forgot all about that as soon as things got a little messy.

He didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve such a pure love.

Steve's parents flew in and that's when he realized how close the wedding was, just two weeks, he just had two weeks to earn your forgiveness and take you away with him but you didn't even want to be saved anymore, he knew you had given up and there was no one else to blame but him.

At the dinner table you heard the taunts of Steve's family but you continued to eat, you didn't respond or react, it was like seeing a lifeless person, you seemed to be on an autopilot mode, whenever your eyes met with him you looked away. He was just a dream for you now and dreams aren't real.

You didn't just break his heart that night, you killed yourself but you liked to believe that you saved his life, he'd continue to doubt you and none of you deserved that, you also knew that him wanting to mess with Katlyn would backfire someday and you didn't want him to lose his life for you. He was the only person keeping you afloat but you knew you had to let go of his hands and drown yourself to save him. You knew you shouldn't have gotten attached to the idea of living a life away with him, it wasn't possible, it was just a dream and you had been woken up by a loud blaring alarm.

You saw your future clearly as soon as Steve's parents arrived, you knew where this marriage would take you but you promised him that you'd live that you'd never harm yourself again and you wanted to live up to that. You didn't want to give up, you just waited for your inevitable death by the hands of your in-laws.

You avoided his existence for the next three days, you didn't even go anywhere unless you absolutely had to, you couldn't be around him, especially not alone with him because he made you weak, those eyes and the way he looked at you made you want to crawl into his lap and kiss him deeply, tell him that all of this was stupid and that you wanted to forgive him but did he even want that? Maybe he was relieved to be ridden of such a responsibility. You didn't know, he did try to talk but you ignored him so how were you supposed to know?

It was your birthday the next day so you went dress shopping for the party you knew was being held for appearance purposes, they didn't care about your birthday. The wedding was ten days later and you were living in constant fear and anxiety.

You haven't closed the door of your side properly so he leaned over you and did it for you, his cologne hit your senses and it almost made the facade drop. Kiss him, Love him. Your thoughts screamed, his eyes met with yours and they filled with tears, both of yours.

The silence layed heavily amongst you two. Nothing to say, no kissing each other, no hugging as you'd sit on his lap, nothing.

"Y/n.."

"Don't loki, just don't okay? It took me so long to be able to pull myself up and I can't get dragged into your warmth and safety again only for you to discard me every time you have a doubt about me, besides it's for the best, at least you'd be alive" That's not what you wanted to say to him but the hurt from that day was still fresh in your mind. He didn't believe you.

He nodded as you said that, that's when a realization hit him, you didn't push him away just because of what he had done but also because of what happened to Bruce, you were afraid he'd suffer the same fate. The talk that night must have brought the repressed emotions you had regarding his death to the surface.

Next day he sent you a happy birthday text but you didn't respond, he knew there was no point calling you as you won't pick it up.

At the party he was going to try, one more time, because he had to, he had to fix this, he can't go on with his life and watch you sign over your own death sentence a few dats later. He had to get through you not because he felt sorry for you or because of the guilt he was afraid he'd carry all his life but because he loved you. He truly insanely solely loved you with all his heart, even though he wasn't able to show it to you when you needed him, he knew what he felt for you was once in a lifetime kind of love, and giving up on that love would destroy him.

He wanted you safe, happy, loved and he wanted to give it all to you like he promised to. He went out that day and got you a gift, he was back soon and the party was in full force at the mansion. Luckily Steve had to be away on a business trip and both of you were relieved by the knowledge, your problems didn't lessen though, you had to deal with his mom dad and sister, his other parents Rocky and Suzzanah , they were enough to keep you stressed throughout the party, you didn't even want to drink anymore.

You didn't know why or how because the old you would run to alcohol and drugs to avoid your feelings, but the new you just wanted to stay in your bathtub and cry. You looked at Loki and he had his eyes on you, your body craved to be close to him, it itched to be touched by him, to be held in those arms and to be caressed softly, he was so pretty to look at and his heart was so pretty too but for how long? You'd sleep in his arms and wake up alone. He'd lose his faith in you as soon as something bothers him about you, you didn't think you were strong enough to deal with it again.

He loved you sure but not in those moments of weakness, or that's what you convinced yourself with because it was easier to accept.

You had a green full length bodycon dress on, it had a slit for the one thigh and the straps were thin, you picked the color on purpose, you weren't trying to hurt him but the color brought you comfort and you were doing everything that brought you even a miniscule amount of comfort. Peter tried to keep you occupied but it wasn't him you needed, you only needed one man and even though he thought he was just another Bodyguard you fell for, you knew how deep his love was running through your veins.

Everyone got so drunk and you just watched and judged them, they looked ridiculous and acted like a fool, that's how you must have acted too when you ran on alcohol. When the attention was shifted from you, you got up and made your way upstairs, the thought of relaxing in your bathtub felt really good.

10 days and then you'll be imprisoned like your mother was but at least she didn't know things would get so bad, she loved your dad and took her chance, fortune and fame changed him. She was definitely stronger than you, she'd never get into a marriage like this.

Loki knew he should have allowed you to be at peace, but his legs moved towards you involuntarily, he looked around to be assured that nobody had their attention on him and they didn't, he was a nobody here. Katlyn tried to make out with him but he stopped her and made her sit down so she found someone else to busy herself with. He couldn't have been more thankful for that. He cut a piece of cake and grabbed a plate, you didn't even eat your own birthday cake and the thought hurt him.

You turned around and found him staring back at you in the lobby upstairs, why was he doing this? You knew you were weak and you'd melt as soon as he touched you.

So you turned left and got inside the first room you found, but then it was his room and you smacked yourself as you realized that.

"I wasn't looking" you told him as you bumped into him on the door, he closed the door so you took a step away from him.

"Don't be afraid sweetheart, I won't hurt you" his eyes teared up and yours did too. You knew he'd never hurt you like that. He could never, he was too kind for that.

"I know..I didn't mean..I just want to go to my room"

"Just give me a minute please? That's all I want" his voice was soft and pleading. He really did want you to listen to him one last time.

"For what?"

"For forgiveness, I want to apologize please just listen to me"

"You didn't listen to me, you listened to her" he placed the plate down on the dresser and walked towards you

"I did.. you are right"

"I know" you crossed your arms and he walked even closer, you didn't know what you thought he'd do. You expected him to cup your cheeks to kiss your forehead or hug you tightly, kiss you even but he did none of those things, he grabbed your hand in his instead and went down on his knees then his arms wrapped around your waist, he started sobbing then and he sobbed some more as he clutched onto you. He cried like a child.

You couldn't help but caress his head as you tried to calm him down, you hated seeing him this way, it was as if the dynamic of your relationship had shifted in those moments.

"Lokii please get up please, we can talk okay? I just..just get up and stop crying" now you understood how he felt when you clung to him like this, it was heartbreaking, seeing the person you loved so utterly shattered in your embrace.

"I'm sorry darling, I'm so sorry, I know I have betrayed your trust and the safety you felt with me but I never wanted to hurt you like that, even though I should have known better, I truly should have after everything I know about you and your past, I should have thought this through before I put the blame on you but the truth is I'm insecure, I'm so insecure because I don't get picked, I am not used to being picked, not for long term anyways, not for forever. I'm a temporary distraction, a solace in the time of need and my mind keeps jumping back and forth between wanting to believe that I am chosen and loved and then just being being another option for you"

You wiped his tears even though your own tears didn't stop coming in. He looked at you and you could see the pain, the guilt he had in him for hurting you.

"You know you never were just another option for me lo..gosh I have loved you with all my heart and I don't know how to make you believe me" you sighed, you never wanted to make him feel this way and you weren't good with words either, you would choose him over every treasure in this world but then you didn't have to.

"You don't, you don't and you shouldn't do that, it's not your fault or your burden to bear, you have enough of your own sweetheart. It's mine and when you chose me there was a part of me that kept wondering Why would a girl like her be with me? and when Katlyn told me about Bruce, my brain screamed at me 'That's it, that's why she loves you, of course she have a reason why she loves you, you buffoon' I had a reason to doubt the love you gave me and my messed up mind made the full use of it"

You tried to get on your knees to get to his level but the dress was too tight, he watched you struggle for a moment and the amusement of the situation made him snap out of the self loathing for a bit. He loves you so much and he just needed one more chance, one last chance to prove to you that he wasn't just all words, he allowed his fucked up issues to come in between you two that day but he had learnt a crucial lesson when he lost you.

"It's okay..you don't have to get down on your knees baby, not today anyways" you chuckled between your tears but you still remembered how you felt that night.

"You believed her over me" your lips trembled as you spoke and he shook his head.

"I know it feels that way and I don't want to lie to you, a part of me jumped at the notion of you being with me just because I'm a bodyguard and you saw another man in me, a man that you possibly cared for and loved, I feared that I was a mere substitute and I went about it in the worst possible way, I should have just asked you instead of assuming, I didn't believe her over you..I believed what my mind told me"

You wiped your tears, he should have asked you because if he did you would have told him the truth. There were many things you wanted to share with him that day.

"What I said about not wanting to wake up all happy and then get my heart broken still is true, I just can't..do that loki, I had such a good feeling that morning and it was all wrong, even my own instincts betrayed me, for a moment I forgot that my happiness won't last for long" he nodded as you said that, he never wanted to put you through that situation again but he fucked up greatly and there was nothing he could have done but apologise and stick to his promise the next time. That only if you'd ever want to be with him again.

"That's not true but I don't blame you for feeling that way, all I need is for you to give me one more chance, a last chance. I can't lose you darling, I can't lose you today, tomorrow or forever, you're mine and I'm yours and I'm going to get us so far away from here" you sniffled as you heard that, you dreamt of that life with him but it felt like a dream now. He placed his head down on your torso and his next few words nearly made your heart leap out of your chest,

"Please don't give up on me, please don't marry him, I'm on my knees begging you to pick me this time, I don't care if I'm just an option, I'll be your option if that's what it takes for you to forgive me, I want you to pick me so pick me please..pick me over everyone else" his voice came out in shattered little sobs.

Your heart broke all over again because you knew how low he must have felt to be asking you to consider him as an alternate, an option. He had fucked up that day, this one time he did but he has also been there for you when you needed him, you couldn't just ignore everything he had done for you and wants to do for you.

Hell it was only because of him you even had the courage to move past that day, for a moment you thought you won't survive, that you won't make it but even when he was the reason you were hurting ,he was also the reason you were able to get out of that room, alive and well. He was the reason you ate and took care of yourself, he was the reason you felt strong enough to let him go even though you knew it would kill you. He had made you stronger with his constant assurance and you didn't want to leave him when he needed it in return.

There were so many things you could have said to him but you started with the worst possible thing

"I am not going to pick you Loki"

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

#loki #loki x female reader #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader angst #loki x reader #loki x reader insert #loki x reader fic #loki x you #loki alternate universe #loki fics #loki au #loki au fics

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holylulusworld · 3 years ago

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Best-in-law (3)

Title: Best-in-law

Summary: It’s time to tell your parents about the baby. How will they react?

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Characters: your parents, Winnifred Barnes, George Barnes

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of awful mother-in-law, pregnant reader, rueful Bucky, fluff, cuddling & snuggling, your parents are the best

Square Filled for @buckybarnesbingo: Free Space - Pregnancy

Rating: Mature

Words: 1,9 k

A/N: This is the calm before the storm...

<< Part 2

Monster-in-law Masterlist

BBB BuckyBarnesBingo 2022 masterlist

Pacing the bedroom Bucky waits for you to leave the bathroom. It’s time to finally tell your parents about the baby and he’s nervous as hell. “Doll, how much longer?”

“Bucky, you need to calm down,” you step out of the bathroom, sighing at the state your boyfriend is in. Since you left his parents’ house two weeks ago, he’s a wreck. He can’t believe his mother went so far as to call you a gold-digger and to doubt the baby in your belly is Bucky’s child. “We can go now. My parents love you, Buck.”

“I know,” he nods more to himself. “I just fear your father will hate me for knocking his unmarried daughter up. What if he kicks me out of his house?”

“Unmarried what?” giggling you look at Bucky. He seems to be serious, and you take his hand to place it on your tiny baby bump. “Bucky, my father is not old-fashioned. He knows you are doing dirty things to me.”

“Fuck, he knows we have sex?” this time you burst into laughter. “Y/N, that’s not funny. Your father knows we have sex. That’s just awful.” You snort at his words. “Doll, stop laughing. I respect that man.”

“He respects you too, Bucky. My father likes you very much, even though he knows you like to put your cock inside of me,” he grins now, eyes immediately dropping to his hand on your belly. “And yeah, you got me full of you.”

“Bucky!” your mother wraps your boyfriend in a hug to welcome him to their house. “Boy, you look good. Did you get bigger? Oh, I know. You did something with your hair?” she smiles at Bucky, patting his cheek as he looks at your father.

“Bucky,” holding out his hand your father smiles at you and Bucky, “good to have you around again, son. We’ve missed having you here.”

“How was the dinner with Bucky’s parents? You didn’t tell me about it so far,” you hate that you didn’t tell your mother about Winnifred’s behavior at the dinner or what she said about your baby.

“Mom, Dad,” you wrap your mother in a hug, sniffling as she runs her hands over your back. “It was just…”

“Awful,” sighing deeply Bucky looks your father in the eyes. “I’m sorry to tell you that my mother acted out. She ruined the dinner for Y/N. Steve and Peggy even left the dinner.”

“What do you mean, Bucky? Why would your mother act out? She doesn’t even know my daughter,” your mother guides you toward the living room, swallowing thickly as the damn breaks and you start to cry. “Oh, honeybee. What happened?”

“I-we,” stiffly standing next to your father Bucky tells them what happened at the dinner. He admits that he played his part in his mother’s foul game too. “I’m sorry. All I can say is that I couldn’t believe my mother was mean to Y/N on purpose. Now I know better.”

“Did you make things up to my daughter? I hope you did so. I’d hate to punch your nose, son,” your father gives Bucky a stern look, hoping he didn’t ruin your relationship. “Bucky?”

“Yes, I tried,” Bucky hastily says. “I see now that my mother planned to make Y/N feel miserable. What my mother did was awful, and I will not talk to her for the time being. Not until she apologized for everything she did to Y/N and tries to do better.”

“Mommy,” you lift your head to meet your mother’s gaze. She gives you a soft smile as you look down at your body. “I—”

“My honeybee, you are glowing,” she coos, immediately placing her hand on your belly. “Darling, our baby is going to have a baby.” Now you hug each other, crying as your father looks at Bucky, brows furrowed in a silent question.

“Sir,” clearing his throat Bucky gets a cigar out, “you are going to be a grandfather soon. In around seven months. Uh—I think it’s a boy.”

“Son,” placing his hand onto Bucky’s shoulder your father sniffs, “did you already choose a name? What about Y/F/N? A good name; a strong one too.”

“Daddy!” you grumble. “We don’t even know the gender yet. Just you know, we will not name our child yet. Bucky and I will wait for the right moment and decide on a name.”

“Darling, we need to prepare the spare room. We will need a playroom for our grandchild,” your father already gets his phone out to look for ideas to design a room for a baby. “Airships, boats, cars … princesses.”

“What?” watching your father scroll through his phone Bucky smiles. Your family welcomed him with open arms, and he feels even worse remembering the way your mother treated you. “Sir, maybe we should choose a unisex design.”

“Good idea, Bucky,” patting your boyfriend’s shoulder your father smirks. “Let’s talk about furniture and wallpapers.”

“I think we should have lunch first. Don’t you think, darling,” your mother chuckles as your father sighs deeply. “I know you want to order all the nice things we will not need, but our daughter is hungry.”

“A pregnant lady is always hungry, son,” pointing at you your father lowers his voice. “Always have pickles, ice cream, sweets, and Chinese food at home. You must make your girl happy, or she will turn into a grumpy bear. I made the mistake of not having pickles at home one night. It didn’t end well for me.”

“I heard that, Y/F/N,” your mother retorts. “Now stop conspiring with Bucky. We will eat now, and later your son-in-law will tell me everything his mother did to my baby girl.”

“Yes, ma’am,” your father and Bucky say in unison, making you and your mother chuckle.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, that’s the best chicken parmesan I ever ate,” you narrow your eyes at Bucky, and he chokes on the food. “What I wanted to say is that your daughter must’ve learned to make the best chicken parmesan from you.”

“Aw, did you hear that, darling? Bucky is such a good liar,” your mother chuckles. “I know the chicken is too dry. But keep on telling me good things about my food.”

“So, back to Winnifred Barnes and the night she messed her chance up to get to know my lovely daughter,” Bucky smiles when your father softly pecks your cheek. “Look at her, she’s so beautiful while pregnant with our grandchild.”

You never saw your father cry before. Now this strong and tall man sits next to you, close to tears. “Y/F/N, don’t make me cry.”

“You already know what my mother did at the dinner. It’s inexcusable and I apologize on her behalf for the way she treated your daughter and the woman I love. It was one of the few times I let your daughter down too. I’m so sorry…”

“A mother is important to their children,” your mother pats Bucky’s hand. “We understand that you tried to see your mother’s side. It’s just…she acted like…”

“A cunt,” you throw in, giggling as your mother rolls her eyes. “It’s true, mom. I tried so hard to figure out what I did wrong to deserve her hatred. In the end, I realized there was nothing I could do to make her like me.”

“She never wanted to give Y/N a chance,” Bucky says, admitting that his mother turned into a horrible person. “I don’t know what happened to my loving mother. She never acted like that before.”

“Bucky,” your father takes a deep breath. He looks your boyfriend straight in the eyes as he fights to get the truth out. “I didn’t like you much in the beginning too. I mean, there was no reason to hate you, but I did. Do you know why?”

“No, Sir,” shaking his head Bucky fears your parents only pretended to like him. “Do you still hate me?”

“I hated you as I saw how happy you make my daughter. Right at that moment, I knew that I lost my little girl to you, Bucky,” his features soften, and he gives Bucky a warm smile. “I love you like a son now, knowing you make my daughter happy. But it was hard for me to let Y/N go.”

“This has nothing to do with the fear of losing me to someone else, Sir. My mother never treated one of my other girlfriends the way she treated Y/N. She wanted me to get back together with my ex, Dot.”

“Well, in that case,” your mother shrugs, “Y/N was right. Your mother is a cunt.”

“Why are you still up?” your mother asks as your father stands at the window to watch the neighbor’s cat sneak into their garden. “Darling?”

“What will we do about Winnifred Barnes?” he mumbles. “I won’t let her treat our honeybee the way she did. That woman called our daughter a gold-digger and doubted the baby is Bucky’s.”

“As I said. She is a cunt,” standing next to her husband your mother smirks. “I think we will intervene and make sure that woman stays out of Y/N’s and Bucky’s life. I will not allow her to ruin their relationship.”

“We will protect Y/N, Bucky, and their babe,” glancing at your mother he smirks. “When do we start, my love?”

“Your parents are great,” you snuggle in Bucky’s chest, and rest your tired head on his shoulder. “I just wish my mom would be more like yours. I can’t believe what she did.”

“I get that she doesn’t like me for a reason I didn’t figure out yet but, why favoring Dot? Were they best friends or something?” Bucky frowns at your question. “Why does she like Dot so much?”

“I don’t think they were friends. Dot and I were in an on-off relationship. One day we were happy together and the next, she wanted to break things up,” Bucky explains things you already knew. “I let her toy with me for a while, blinded by lust and maybe love. I told myself things will work out, but it just got worse. Steve told me to imagine a life with Dot after yet another breakup. He made me see there was no future for Dot and me.”

“Winnifred wants you back together with Dot for a reason. If it’s not a deep friendship,” you groan. “I just don’t get it…”

“Let’s sleep a bit, doll. Maybe we can figure out what my mother is up to after a good night’s sleep. I’ll call Steve and ask him to come around on Monday. For now, let’s enjoy the weekend at your parents’ house and focus on us and the baby.”

“Yeah…the baby,” you take Bucky’s hand to place it onto your belly. “Can you imagine feeling them kick? I want to feel it already.”

“Winnifred, can you just not? Stop calling our son,” George tuts as his wife dials her son’s number once again. “James told you to leave him alone until you come to your senses. I still don’t know why you treated the sweet girl like that.”

“Sweet girl,” Winnifred sneers. “That woman is not good enough for my Jamie, George. I will make him see she’s nothing but a good lay. He was allowed to have some fun with the girl, but now the fun is over. I won’t let him marry that whore.”

“Winni, that is enough,” George angrily grunts. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you but stop messing with our son’s life. He’s a good man, a smart one. James loves that girl, and they are going to have a baby. It’s your choice, but I’d rather be a part of my child’s life and see my grandchildren.”

“He can have more children with someone else,” storming out of the room George grumbles under his breath. “They are all the same. Like mother, like daughter…”

>> Part 4

More tags in reblog.

Monster-in-law

@lovely-geek, @cjand10, @sebsgirl71479, @pono-pura-vida

#Best-in-law (3)#buckybarnesbingo #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #ceo!bucky barnes x reader #ceo!bucky barnes #fluff #pregnant reader

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lucy90712 · 3 years ago

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Hi how are you? Sorry to be a pain this is my first time requesting something and I'm nervous. So most of us would of have baby fever at some point (if kids ain't what you want I won't judge)

But could you do a Wilbur X Reader. So basically Wilbur is thinking deeply while he's in the delivery room with his wife/girlfriend. Like I imagine him being like 'Jesus this is reality.' Then he sees his daughter and he's like amazed 'wow.'

this is really happening

When y/n told me they were pregnant I was so happy and still am but no one tells you how long it takes for those 9 months to go by and believe me it takes forever to get to the point when the being you have been waiting to meet is arriving. They also don’t prepare you for how long labour can be; so far its been 25 hours and I’m tried and running in nothing so I can’t imagine how y/n is coping especially with the constant pain every few minutes they look so incredibly exhausted and I wish I could do something to help.

The longer we are here just waiting the more nervous I get to meet our baby I mean what if they don’t love me or what if we don’t have the bond I think we should have? And don’t get me started on all the things that could go wrong like what if I’m a bad parent and don’t know how to take care of my own child and being on the internet scares me now because people could harm my precious child or say things about them that will just make me so angry. There really is so much that could go wrong and thinking about it makes me think that I should have never become a parent because I’m just going to mess this child up and ruin their life to make them hate me when they are older.

We were waiting for a few more hours until the nurses said that it was time and immediately I gained some energy from somewhere it was like my body had been concerning my energy so that I could be there to support y/n in the moment but clearly their body had not done the same because they still looked exhausted and like they were so ready for this to be over. From then everything happened so quickly and there was so manly people in the room that I barely remember anything other than y/n being in a lot of pain and me freaking out but right at the end my memory came back to me.

“This is really happening” I whispered under my breath

“Wilbur I can’t do this anymore” y/n panted

“You have got this there isn’t much longer just a few more minutes and it will be all over and baby will be here” I encouraged

Before I knew it cries filled the room and our baby was being handed to y/n, it was a magical moment that I hope I never forget even in old age it was just so special to finally meet our child that we have been so excited to meet and loved for the past 9 months. All of a sudden all of my worries went away or most of them at least because the second I saw their face I was truly in love and there was going to be no issue with me bonding with them.

Eventually I got to hold my child and just stare at them to take in every part of their cute little face and take a minute to let it really settle in that they are my child that me and y/n created and get to watch grow into a full on human being.

“Wow their just beautiful y/n” I said

“I know I can’t believe their ours” they said

#Wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader

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victoriocus · 2 years ago

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❝ in any case, the blood is always on your hands. in any case, the blood is always your own. ❞

{ cis-woman, she/her } huh, who’s KRISTINE FROSETH ? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually VICTOIRE WEASLEY. she is a 29 year old PART VEELA witch who is a CURSE BREAKER. she is a RAVENCLAW alum and the child of FLEUR DELACOUR and BILL WEASLEY. she is known for being RETICENT, MEDDLESOME, RESENTFUL, INSINCERE, and OVERCRITICAL but also DUTIFUL, METICULOUS, ADAPTABLE, RESILIENT, and LOYAL, so that must be why she always reminds me of the song CAN I CALL YOU TONIGHT BY DAYGLOW and CHERRY LIPS & RED FLUSHED CHEEKS; BECOMING THE IDEAL BUT LOSING YOURSELF IN THE PROCESS; THE SOUND OF PENCILS ON PAPER; PERFUME CLINGING TO SILK SHEETS; A NEVER ENDING MEMORY PLAYED ON A LOOP; TRYING YOUR HARDEST ONLY TO FAIL AND IDYLLIC DREAMS CRUSHED LIKE ROSE PETALS . i hear she is aligned with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on her.

𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲

i. victoire ( from latin “victoria” = victory ) : her name echoes hope, wrapped in her parents’ simple ( and maybe naive ) wish that their child will overcome every hardship in life.

ii. and it seemed like their wish had come true. or at least their daughter is smart ( deceptive enough ) to keep that illusion. things just came so easy to her, always ahead of her peers, always a smile on her face, as long as if she wasn’t a burden, she’d always be happy.

iii. she was gifted until she wasn’t anymore. her knowledge simply deriving from an inquisitive nature barely made her stand out anymore. the carefree girl from merely a year ago became quieter, her head always buried in books, as if her worth depended on having read every single one of them. and yet always trying to remain the same, a never-ending smile hanging on the corners of her lips, seemingly unbothered by a crippling façade.

iv. and yet she somehow made it through. believing that she can finally breathe, that everything would become easier.

v. when she told her father about her wish to become a cursebreaker, his proud smile didn’t feel like a burden. after all, she had worked for it her whole life, never allowing a mistake to ruin it for her.

vi. but a story with words running so smoothly, barely made a compelling story. it’d only take a chapter, ( a mistake ) told within a few pages that would twist a story which was supposed to have a happy ending.

vii. it was a scene captured in seconds but felt like an eternity. before her partner’s voice could even reach victoire, her body already fell to the ground, way too quietly for the terror she’d experienced. way too quickly for a mistake which only had taken her a second to make. she had been careless with a cursed object. she had believed in her abilities or perhaps she’d just become reckless and it cost her partner’s life.

since when something had changed in her again, as if she’d returned to her younger self, not knowing if she can ever return again.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

victoire is more of the booksmart type rather than streetsmart. despite, her knowledge she’d tried to remember by heart she lacks practice.

she cares deeply for her family, especially her siblings. despite her known spotless reputation, rumors say that she did casted a spell on a gryffindor who dared to talk shit about her family. of course she denied it.

the main reason she was sorted into ravenclaw, was her creativity. she’d always had a keen interest in art ( a skill she could barely develop as she was occupied with studying ), though she used to be talented at it when she was a child, as for now she’s barely above average at it. surprisingly, she hasn’t abandoned that hobby which is odd considering she tends to give up easily on things she isn’t immediately good at it.

she is the type of friend that will always mix up certain sayings/proverbs and not get them at all and take things literally.

although she does support the order, she’s backtracked a little as the accident has affected her deeply. she is doubting if she can be any help, considering that a mistake could happen to a similar outcome.

tba.

#potter intro #template credit in source #(( just another girl with the burned out gifted child syndrome ))#(( definitely redoing this later #profile etc will be added dnnsdd ))#(( gonna leave this here before returning to watch that one show and then i'll reply to messages dsndnsd ))

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navalcriminalimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Every part of you

Request: Something just fluffy and domestic would be so nice...missing that old man. Maybe something like baking with him? Fluffy smut or just fluff, I would be really happy to see you write either. 💕

Warnings: Smut, blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex, kitchen sex

Words count: 2,4k

Joel Miller x Reader. Insecure Joel. No virus, no apocalypse. Divorced!Joel.

* * * * *

After his divorce with Sarah’s mother, Joel entered years of celibacy, except for the occasional hookups. He didn’t want to go down that road again, his marriage wasn’t the best one but he loved his wife and expected it to last forever, like they promised each other.

But things changed when he met you over a year ago.

It was one of those nights where his brother Tommy dragged him to a bar. You were there with some friends and the first thing he noticed about you was your smoking hot body. And before he knew it, Tommy brought you to their table to have a drink with them.

It was supposed to be one of those hookups. No strings attached. In the morning, he would’ve left and you probably wouldn’t have never met again.

But he broke rule number one on the first night anyway: never take someone home. He always found a way to go to his partner's place, or at least, found a place to do it, but never at his place. His home.

Until you.

Once you were done, he realized how young and innocent you looked. He could see the struggle on your face, as to whether you should leave or stay. He felt bad about himself and told you to stay. You warmly smiled and faxed yourself under the covers, your warm form curled up against him.

In the morning, he woke up to the smell of coffee and French toast. As you had breakfast together, you told him a bit about yourself and Joel found himself to be interested.

You left your phone number and two weekends later - he spends every two weekends with his daughter - Joel invited you for a drink. Which turned into a few ones. Which turned into taking you home again.

That was over a year ago. Now, you’re moving in with him.

He didn’t expect for it to happen. It’s just that when you mentioned wanting to move out from your crappy apartment, he simply told you to come live with him and Sarah. His teenage daughter is very fond of you, and Joel is deeply in love with you. There’s no reason this could go wrong, is there?

But somehow, it caused your first fight.

It was hard to fit two homes into one, and Joel wasn’t compromising at all. He didn’t want to get rid of anything.

“You have to meet halfway, Jo.” You told him, clearly annoyed.

“I am. I just don’t want to get rid of my couch. What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, for starters, mine is fairly new, bigger and way more comfortable. But it’s not just about the couch. It feels like you don’t want me to move in after all,” you said with such sadness in your voice, Joel felt horrible.

“I asked, didn't I?” He answered, defensively.

“Probably because you felt bad about my struggle to find a new place. Just like you felt bad after our first night together.”

“…What?”

“I’m not stupid, Joel. I know you didn’t want me to stay at first.”

“But you did.”

“Well, yeah. Because it was my first time hooking up with someone I just met. And—“ you took a deep breath. “I really don’t want to compliment you right now, but the sex was—mind blowing.”

You obviously were still pretty mad but Joel couldn’t help but smirk in his beard. Sex with you is indeed pretty mind blowing. There’s love, trust, passion, and you’re open-minded concerning his kinks. He never witnessed that before. Actually, he discovered new kinks with you, pretty much like if you were his very own kink.

“Take that smirk off your face. That’s unfair.” You breathed out.

Joel closed the distance between your bodies, and gently kissed your forehead. “Letting you stay that night was the best decision I’ve made in a very long time,” he kissed your nose. “I’ll get rid of the couch.” Then he kissed your lips and moved to your neck. “Let’s ruin it before.”

You chuckled and you did ruin his old couch.

A few weeks later, you were all moved in. Joel was exhausted, he fell asleep on your - extremely - comfortable couch. You covered him with a blanket and took care of the last details before cooking dinner.

Your parents had been owners of a restaurant for the past thirty years, your father being the chef and your mother doing pretty much the rest. You spent most of your time in the establishment as a child, and your father happily shared his know-how with you.

In the past year, Joel had barely spent time in the kitchen, as it became your space. Not that he minded.

He does mind the weight he’d been gaining though.

He woke up to the smell of one of your dishes, two hours after falling asleep. He could hear you doing your thing in the kitchen. He smiled, stretched himself and when his mind seemed awake enough, he joined you.

You felt his strong arms wrapping your middle, and took advantage of your messy bun to plant wet and sloppy kisses in your exposed neck. You felt shivers all the way through your body. “Hi handsome. Sleep well on the couch?”

“Bite me.” He growled against your skin and you chuckled.

“Did that last night.” You said, referring to the bite mark you left right on top of his shoulder. He had made you cum so hard, you didn’t control yourself.

“I love when you mark me.” He whispered in your ear, nipping your ear lobe.

“Good, I’m taking you for a scarification tomorrow. My name, right above your penis.”

“Hmm,” Joel was still planting kisses anywhere he could and you could feel his growing erection against your ass. It was getting really difficult to focus on the marinade in front of you. “I can meet you halfway and agree to get a tattoo.” You laughed but somehow imagined it. It would ruin any relationship for him if you two ever break up. “Only if you do the same, obviously.” He added.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

He hummed in answer and you felt his hand playing with the waistband of your sweatpants. But you slapped his hand away before he could slide it in. “Put your hands to other use for now. Cut the onions for me,” you playfully rubbed your ass against his crotch but only to push him away.

Joel let go of you and looked around to find the onions. “Wow. I like punishment but only if I know what I did wrong.”

You laughed before throwing two onions at him, which he almost missed. As he began to peel them off, you gently grabbed the knife from his hands and squeezed a lemon on the blade. Joel looked at you, lovingly. “There. You won’t cry.” You said, handing him the knife.

“Huh, we’ve been dating for a year and you’re only telling this trick, now? I thought you loved me.” He used his best complaining voice, and he felt your hand slamming against his ass.

“What will we talk about in ten years if I tell you everything now?” You casually asked and it caught Joel off guard. He stayed silent while cutting the onions in small squares and you didn’t push it. You focused on your marinade and checked on the steamed vegetables.

“Are you picturing us still together in ten years?” He finally asked once he was done. He gave you the bowl with the onions in it.

“Well—yeah. Don’t you?” You took the bowl from his hand, preparing the pan in order to cook them.

Joel sighed. It had been a struggle since you two started to date. Your relationship had been so perfect, you had been an amazing partner, it almost feels surreal to me. “I guess my marriage broke a part of me.” He paused, staring at you cooking. “It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

As you ditched the onions in a hot pan, a soft smile appeared across your face. “That will happen when your alien friends will come to pick you up, in order to bring you back to your home planet.”

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. He couldn’t believe you were real. He stared for a moment. You are so beautiful, young, funny and smart, with the biggest heart. How did he got so lucky?

He jumped on the part of the kitchen plan you weren’t using. “Or when I got so fat from your cooking, you’re not attracted to me anymore.” He finally said and you stopped everything you were doing.

“…what?”

“I gained a few pounds lately.” He confessed, avoiding your eyes this time.

“Yeah so?”

“Oh so you’re agreeing? Not even something like ‘honey that’s crazy, you haven’t changed a bit.’?”

"I'm sorry. Let me do this again.” You took a step back and got into character. “Joel! Are you crazy? You didn’t gain any pounds. Are those masculine magazines making you feel bad, again?”

“Wow. Don’t quit your day job to become an actress.”

You playfully punched his shoulder and he let out an “ouch!”. “But seriously love,” it was your loving and smoothing tone again. “Do you really feel bad about this?”

“Kinda. I’m already older than you, I can’t have that too.”

“Baby,” you settled between his legs and tiptoed to kiss him softly. “You’re perfect to me. I don’t care about your age, your weight, your height, the size of your—okay that, I do care but still.”

Never a woman made him laugh like you manage to. No matter the subject, the time of the day, his mood or your mood, you’re always able to bring a smile to his face. He’s so in love with you. “Do you get my point or do I have to take you upstairs to show it to you?” You stroked his beard and Joel leaned into your touch, humming in content.

“I won’t mind the show. But I’d rather have you showing me—here.”

“I better stop cooking and focus on my other hobby then.” You turned off everything and invited him to get down. “My favorite actually.” You whispered, before kissing him gently.

“Please do.” He pleaded, sticking out his tongue in order to meet yours.

As you kissed, you brought him against the wall of the kitchen. He moaned at your sudden dominance, and you felt his semi hard cock against your belly. Joel tried to travel under your tank top with his hands but you prevented him access. You quickly worked taking his tee-shirt off, throwing it on the floor. Your lips immediately crashed against his hairy chest, while your hands were softly caressing it. “I love you, Joel.” you whispered against his skin. “I love every part of you that you don’t.”

It was overwhelming. Never in his life has Joel felt this loved, this attractive. It was such a mix of feelings, he could have cried on the spot as well as fucked you senseless. But he only stood there, panting hard as you were taking his sweatpants and briefs off. He stepped out and you threw it away, next to his shirt. He was dying to undress you, to feel your smooth skin against his, but he knew better.

You kneeled in front of you, taking his hard member in your hand. You looked up to him with your big and loving E/C eyes. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamt of,” you said. “Call me crazy but I’d follow you to your damn home planet.” you confess, referring to what you said a moment ago.

Joel intensely stared at your mouth when you gave him a first lick. This view was so damn perfect.

You teasingly played with your tongue against his cock before taking him in your mouth. Joel moaned, deeply and you sucked him for a moment, not taking all of his length yet. Your jaw needed to relax first. No matter the amount of time you’ve seen his cock, you’re always amazed about how thick and long he is.

Joel’s hand grabbed your hair bun into his fists, guiding you. When you were ready, you took all of him inside your mouth, your nose buried in his pubic hair. “Fuck, baby!” he growled as his cock hit the back of your throat. “God I love your mouth so much.”

You kept going for a moment until you felt his urge growing. Joel was basically facefucking you, thrusting his cock deep inside your mouth. But you weren’t done with him yet, so when only a trail of saliva was connecting you to his length, you took advantage and got back on your feet.

You passionately kissed him, allowing him to taste himself. “Sit on the chair.” You ordered him and Joel obeyed.

You striped in front of him as he was lazily stroking his painfully hard cock. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Y/N.” he said before you straddle his lap.

“So are you, Joel.” He almost didn’t catch that - maybe because a part of him didn’t want to - as you guided his cock into your wet cunt. He was stretching you open, it almost hurt but you kept going until he was fully inside you.

“So fucking tight.” he growled against your neck.

You settled for a slow pace at first. Joel’s face was buried in your chest, assaulting your rounded breasts. One of his hands was in the small of your back, following your hips movements. “You feel so good inside me.” you moaned, your hands buried in his hair. He was so deep inside you, you two almost could hear every time he reached your end. “I’ll never be able to be with anyone else but you.”

His urge was coming back and yours was building up. You quickened the pace, and Joel furiously rubbed your clit with his hand. “Yes Joel, right there!” he looked up at you and crashed his lips on yours. You could feel his fingers digging on your hip, while yours did the same on his scalp.

“I’m gonna cum.” he warned you, thrusting as fast as he could.

“Me, too. Don’t stop,”

“Never.”

It was a closed call but you came practically at the same time, both crying each other’s name.

You stayed in the same position as you and Joel came down from your high. You held him close against you, feeling his cock softening inside you. You were both panting. “Every part of me, huh?” he said.

“Every single one.”

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us part 2

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i-make-fun-of-spn-characters · 3 years ago

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I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby.

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants.

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones.

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that.

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that.

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations.

#being serious for 5 seconds #RANTING RANTING RANTING #spicy spicy ghost pepper extract #mail

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