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sundrop-writes · 9 months

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My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

The joke's on you - we are salt and you are the wound.

Summary:

Ellie confronts your abuser, and after years of torment, you finally feel free.

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort. Can be read with or without considering the canon events.

Word Count: 9,600

The Last of Us Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronounces, the reader is a lesbian/does not date men, themes of abuse and abusive relationships, domestic abuse, ‘love at first sight’ trope, could be considered ‘soulmates’ trope, hurt and comfort, the reader is being abused by a family member and is saved by Ellie,the reader is being emotionally and physically abused by a family member, evidence of emotional manipulation/brainwashing in the reader character, the reader character has injuries from physical abuse, trauma, becoming free from abuse, depictions of violence (fist fighting between Ellie and the abuser), mentions of guns and gun violence, there is elements of Joel and Ellie’s relationship in the background and this could be read with or without considering the canon events (their emotional falling out), mentions of alcohol, drugging someone against their will (done toward the abuser), threatening someone’s genitals with a knife (done toward the abuser), kidnapping and intimidation through violent threats (done toward the abuser), mentions of hanging/choking/suffocation, use of lesphobic slurs (I think ‘rug muncher’ is the only one?) (from the abuser towards Ellie), Joel and Ellie making a kidnapping (and potentially murder) plot together, this has a happy/hopeful ending.

A/N: Another re-post of a fic I really, really love. This one is particularly deeply personal to me. Whenever I write about the concept of abuse, it’s very emotional for me, but this one has some more personal touches - because it is about abuse coming from a family member and how it can be difficult to part from that because you rely on them for survival and resources that keep you alive. Often times when people think about abuse - or when abusive relationships are modelled in media, it is a romantic relationship, and they display how a person can go from sweet and romantic and turn into a monster, and how it manipulates the victims emotions and makes it difficult for them to leave. And I do think that is an important story to tell, but one equally important - the story of an abuser who is a constant in your life, and makes you dependent on them for survival, and it causes you to rationalise all of their poor actions and behaviour because you need them. You want them to be a good person in your mind because you don’t know how to sustain your life without them.

Another deeply personal touch on this fic - the title. It is titled after a Fall Out Boy song, and you guys might know - I fucking love Fall Out Boy. I feel like all of their songs have a direct cord to my soul. But this one in particular is so special and tender for me. I was struggling with what to title this fic, and I was going through a playlist of songs that I listen to frequently - and this one came up. Although I believe the original intent of this song is about a cheating spouse, for me, it brings up feelings of how I think of my abuser. Especially the lines ‘I’m the kind of kid that can’t let anything go, and you wouldn’t know a good thing if it came up and split your throat’ and 'this is me wishing you in to the worst situations’.

I feel like it is very accurate, because Ellie is someone who is very 'wearing her heart on her sleeve’ and through this fic, she wants to be emotionally detached and leave the situation alone, but she can’t. And it turns her heart into this weapon against her, and ultimately, against the abuser. Because it is only of the fact that she cares so much about y/n that she wants to hurt the guy at all. And it also works to describe y/n’s feelings, because she hates that she has emotional attachment to her abuser, but she does, and it makes her feel as though her heart is a weapon against herself. So yeah. I hope you enjoy this fic, and if you relate to it somehow, I hope you can heal.

...

Ellie didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was the type of person who thought it was cheesy - some made-up bullshit built for movies and books to sell people on the type of story that would never actually happen. She founded herself on facts, and though she knew realistically it would never happen in her lifetime, she thought that space travel was far more factual than something like love at first sight.

Until she met you.

And yeah, it probably wasn’t love - at least not true love - until later on. But there had to be some reason that she stuck her neck out for you like that. There had to be something drawing her to you like that. Maybe it was that fabled invisible string. That unspoken thing that made her want to die and want to kill for you, especially within the first ten minutes of meeting you.

You were with a group taking refuge in Jackson. In such a small town, rumors were rampant. The group had been in town for less than a day and people were already whispering about whether or not Maria was going to take in such a large number of people on such short notice.

Personally, Ellie didn’t care. She knew that Jackson had the resources to support new people and she knew that Maria would make the right decision. She was a good leader; she would sense if the group were good enough people to stay or not. She wouldn’t knowingly let in any dangers.

But then, Ellie started to care very suddenly, very much - when she met you.

When she saw you, the very first thing she noticed was your smile. She didn’t think she had ever seen someone smile with such intense, genuine joy. It was something that instantly twisted her gut into knots - filled her with those cartoonish butterflies as she took in the sight of you.

You were standing along the edge of one of the fences, near a small, green pasture for the animals in town. It was a small wooden fence that came up to your hips, around an area that was sectioned off to keep the baby cows in so they could graze. You were leaning on the wooden panels, admiring those little cows with awe, a smile on your face a mile wide as you watched the animals stumble around happily in the field. It was a beautiful spring day, with a light breeze kissing against your skin, and plenty of bright green grass for the cows to snack on. It made the sun seem so much brighter with your smile under it.

Ellie couldn’t help but find herself drawn to you.

She was supposed to be on her way to return her rifle to the gun shed after patrol. But instead, her feet carried her to you, almost entirely against her will. And soon she found herself standing barely a foot away from you, leaning on that same fence with one hand and staring at you with a big idiotic smile of her own.

You gave a small jolt when you finally took your eyes off the cows and noticed her staring. Ellie panged with guilt. She hadn’t realized how unintentionally creepy she was being. She didn’t know that it was a programmed response on your part - an ingrained jumpiness that you couldn’t help.

She swallowed around the dryness in her throat, struggling for words, and she was thankful when you spoke first.

“You guys have everything here.” You said, bright and excited as you put your eyes back on the grazing pasture. “It’s the first time I’ve seen baby cows before.”

“We - uh - we also have sheep.” Ellie tripped over herself to say this, shouldering the strap of her rifle to point beyond to a spot where the sheep’s pasture could not be seen. “And there’s greenhouses, and horses. My horse is named Shimmer. You can come and meet her if you want!”

Ellie almost felt stupid, rushing to say all of this, rushing to impress you. If you liked Jackon’s plentiful resources, then perhaps if she pressed just how fantastic and resource filled the place was, you would want to stay.

She found herself wanting you to stay. Very badly.

You bit your lip, slightly shy, and let out a nervous giggle. You didn’t want to turn her down. But years of warnings in a closed off echo chamber had made you weary of strangers. Even seemingly kind ones.

“That would be nice.” You told her quietly. “Maybe later.”

Ellie thought she was coming on too strong. She kicked herself internally because of it.

She had no idea that you were hesitant to be friendly - hesitant to get too close because of the ‘consequences’ you had seen in the past. In your eyes, Ellie seemed like a lovely, friendly person, but you didn’t want to get hurt for trying to make friends. Even if you felt a spark of attraction towards her, you could never pursue it. You didn’t have the room to do so.

Ellie simply nodded at you, the pain of rejection curling in her gut as she began to walk off. But she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard it.

Yelling - a brute voice disrupting your peace.

When Ellie turned around, there was a man. Someone who would have been otherwise average in his looks, if not for the violence he wore so boldly, obviously uncaring of who saw him. His face was tight with anger as he crowded into your personal space, grabbing a hold of your wrist and screaming at you relentlessly as though you had greatly offended him.

She wondered how someone like you - someone so sweet, who took wonder in baby cows, could ever do something to warrant such a visceral reaction of anger from someone.

Ellie gripped her rifle tightly.

A voice in her mind told her that it was none of her business, but another quickly argued back and said that you didn’t deserve to be treated like this. It said that she should step in. She felt frozen as the two sides warred inside her. For a few moments, she simply watched on, taking in the one-sided conflict between you and this man with horror swimming inside of her.

Your reaction was the worst part.

Your face immediately shifted from that excitement, awe, and wonder that the baby cows gave you and contorted into pure pain. Tears welled up in your eyes and pure fear overtook your entire body. Your spine coiled up, as if to protect your internal organs, but you made no real moves to get away from this man.

He spouted at you about ‘wandering off’ and ‘what have I told you before’, ranting on and on as if you had made some horrible mistake by taking time out of your day to admire a grazing pasture full of animals. Ellie was just about to unlock her knees and charge over there to do something about it when a vial, angry eye caught hers over your shoulder.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” He barked at Ellie.

Those simple words were all it took to trigger something in Ellie.

At a moment’s notice, all of her logic flew out the window, and she found herself consumed by the impulse of her rage instead. She shed off the strap of her rifle, leaving the heavy object on the ground behind her in case it might impede her as she barreled toward the man like a raging bull.

“Why don’t you tell me, asshole?!” Ellie fired back, entirely nonsensical.

But both of them, ill-tempered, were beyond talking at that point.

He stepped around you and went to open his mouth again and Ellie took a swing. She easily made contact with his jaw, but he absorbed it well. Her knuckles stung as she pulled back and landed another hit on his cheek, most definitely leaving a nasty bruise.

Ellie was caught off guard when a large fist collided with her face.

She would never be the type to say that men shouldn’t hit women simply on principle. Especially not in this case, because she had swung first.

She was shocked simply because of the sheer force behind the hit. It wasn’t just to get her off of him - it was vengeful.

Though her skull was rattled, when he moved his hand up again, Ellie caught his wrist and hit him again. Still feeling that blinding rage, she took him to the ground. His nose felt like mush under her knuckles and she wouldn’t have stopped - if not for someone forcefully pulling her off of him.

She wanted to yell when she found out that someone was Tommy. But he quickly dampened any of her protests.

Tommy then gave her a long lecture about ‘first impressions’ and handling her temper during ‘misunderstandings’. He told her that being a part of their family meant that even unintentionally, she represented Jackson as a whole. Regrettably, Ellie felt guilt curling in her stomach because of his words. Even if the guy had it coming, she hated Joel or Tommy looking down on her with disappointment.

And some time during that long, droning speech, you and that man slipped away. Ellie had a very bad feeling in her gut because of it.

She had a feeling that he was nothing but a cause of pain for you.

But of course, she had no outright proof of that. Aside from your tears. But you weren’t even there to tell Tommy your story. And what story was that? That you had been yelled at? How the hell did that substantiate Ellie beating a man up?

She had nothing more to go on than a gut feeling.

So rather than telling Tommy about any of the things she suspected, she accepted everything she had said, she apologized for losing her cool, and then (after he gave her a hug, patted her on the head and said ‘it’s okay, kiddo’) - she turned and walked away.

When she returned her rifle to the gunshed, Jesse asked if something had happened on patrol to cause the bruises on her face and make her expression so sickly, and she quickly shrugged him off.

Ellie felt intensely guilty for not doing something more. She felt bad for not simply asking you what was wrong, for not handling the situation like a real human being. She had no clue why she couldn’t simply be calm when she saw you so upset like that.

She didn’t even really know you. She just had a feeling that you were too good to be treated like that. Something deep in her gut was screaming that you did nothing to deserve it.

The group you came in with split up. Some of them made their way down to the coast with the intention of fishing, perhaps finding and fixing up an old boat, and some of them stayed.

Ellie took notice when you and the man who had yelled at you stayed.

She also took notice of the fact that whenever she saw you around town, that man was never very far from you. And whenever he lingered around you, you were much different from the girl she had met that day near the pasture. You were slumped down, never rising to your full posture, constantly tense, and incredibly quiet. You never spoke a single word to anyone other than that awful man. You never even made eye contact with other people.

Ellie spent weeks watching you from afar, attempting to see if you were okay, looking for some ‘evidence’ that you weren’t. Some hard proof that she could bring to Tommy and Maria, something to show that she wasn’t insane for attacking that man. And it wasn’t until the spring rolled into summer, and Ellie’s bruises from the incident had faded, that she found time to speak to you again.

There was a time when Ellie caught you without your ugly shadow - when you were by the coops, feeding the chickens, imitating their clucking and laughing to yourself.

“I think you’ve got a career as a chicken caller.” Ellie chuckled as she walked toward you.

You smiled when you looked up and saw her.

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “I just like them because if they say mean things to me, I don’t have to know.”

Ellie felt a lump rise up in her throat at the pain behind your words.

It left an awkward, painful silence for a moment before you spoke up again.

“Look, I’m sorry about before.” You told her. “If you thought you had to defend me, or…” You continued staring at the grainy feed on the ground, pointedly not looking at Ellie. “I piss him off. Often. He was just having a bad day, and I-”

“That’s no excuse for him to yell at you like that.” Ellie cut you off. She rushed to get the words out, desperate for you to know this at the truth. “He’s got a temper, doesn’t he?”

“So do you.” You chuckled. It wasn’t genuine laughter.

There was a twinge of fear in your voice. It made her nauseous. She never wanted you to fear her the same way that you clearly feared that horrible man.

“I’m sorry.” Ellie said quietly, intense guilt overtaking her. “I do genuinely apologize if I scared you. I just… I couldn’t stand to see you crying like that.”

“I totally get it.” You snorted, painful humor lingering in your voice. “It’s so annoying. But… sometimes I can’t help it.” Though you kept your voice steady, these simple words spoke volumes of pain.

Ellie wanted to ask why. She wanted to ask if there were more days when he pushed you to tears.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a crybaby.” You told her. You tried to laugh this off, as though it was just a funny trait of your personality, and not a fault of pain being inflicted onto you.

Ellie shook her head vigorously.

“No.” She quickly corrected you. “That’s not what I meant.”

Confusion knitted over your features. Ellie fought hard to find the words to explain it.

“I was angry because he made you cry.” She explained. “I was pissed off because he upset you, and - and, I know it’s stupid. I don’t even know you. But you don’t deserve that.”

Hearing those words for the first time was a truth so radical it almost tore the ground from underneath your feet. After years of being told that you weren’t worth the trouble - that the food you consumed was a burden, that the bullets used to protect you were a waste - being told for the first time that you didn’t deserve such treatment… you felt like the words didn’t belong in your ears.

“What?” You looked at her with pure shock overtaking your expression, a most genuine and raw reaction. “You really care that much about me being upset?”

This gripped Ellie’s insides worse than anything else. You could barely conceptualize someone caring about your feelings this genuinely.

“Yeah.” She admitted quietly. “I do care.”

This left your face tight with contemplation, intense thought. Ellie didn’t want to leave room for you to get too caught up in it, for you to overanalyze her genuine gesture. So she came up with something else.

“So… did you still wanna meet my horse? Maybe we could take her out for a ride?” Ellie posed.

You seemed hesitant. But eventually, you decided ‘fuck it’ - you might as well have some fun. Especially if it meant spending some time with someone who actually seemed to care about you.

Ellie took you to the stables and introduced you to Shimmer, and officially introduced you to herself, as you did in return - which seemed odd after all that had happened. But it was nice to finally have a name to go with your pretty face. It was nice to finally hear your laughter as Ellie made an age old joke about hay and horses.

After you took a while to pet the horse and get acquainted with her, Ellie got permission to go past the gate. She took you on a slow trot on the outskirts of Jackson. She had butterflies curling in her stomach the whole time as you gripped her waist, sitting on the back of the horse, and you smiled brightly and complemented how peaceful everything was.

When the two of you got back from the ride, you kissed Ellie on the cheek, and she nearly squealed with happiness.

And then, she didn’t see you for nearly a week afterwards.

She thought she had done something wrong, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with that awful man who barely let you out of his sight.

The next time she did see you, you were walking along closely behind that wicked man, your eyes low to the ground. And when she called out your name, you didn’t look up to greet her.

The sweet summer turned into fall and Ellie felt the guilt gnawing at her more, especially when she noticed the days or even weeks when you didn’t seem to come outside. Days when you didn’t show up to do your chores and were supposedly sick, days when nobody else seemed to care why you were missing.

There was that voice in her head. ‘She’s just a girl.’ The voice said. ‘It’s just a crush. It’s none of your business. You should just move on.’

Ellie couldn’t bring herself to listen to that voice. For some reason, she felt this thing gnawing deep in her gut - something that said you needed her.

Against her better judgment, Ellie went to the house she knew you were staying at, and knocked on the door.

She wasn’t surprised when you answered. You peeked through the door with only half your face showing, utterly terrified.

“What are you doing here?” You barked.

Ellie had a feeling that your anger was a formation of fear, and it wasn’t entirely directed at her.

“I was worried about you.” Ellie admitted shyly.

You opened the door further, hesitantly, and then pulled Ellie inside before you shut the door and closed all the locks. Ellie felt her stomach twist when she noticed you looking through the curtains, as though you were afraid for your life, looking out for danger.

Ellie had a distinct feeling that she knew what that danger was.

A giant lump formed in Ellie’s throat when you turned around and she saw it - that black eye, swollen and bruised, glaring at her. It was the part of your face you had been blocking with the other half of the door. There were other things she couldn’t see. Scrapes and bruises and hand shapes swats over your arms and torso, covered by your purposefully baggy sweatshirt with long sleeves.

“Just stop.” You said, turning to Ellie, your voice quaking with the intensity of your emotions. “Stop worrying about me.”

Ellie’s jaw tensed. She would find that intensely difficult - practically impossible.

“No.” She easily told you so. “I care about y-”

“Stop.” You said, a harsh cry in your throat.

It was too painful for you to consider. The idea that someone sweeter and nicer existed in the world and cared for you. The idea that the way of life you had known for years wasn’t the only way to survive.

“Look, I like you.” You added on. “You’re really sweet. But you don’t want me. I’m sure you can find someone else-”

Ellie stepped forward, her fingers brushing so gently over your cheek, right underneath the swelling of that awful black eye. You were so entirely startled by the pure gentleness of the touch that you let out a choked off sound from the back of your throat, almost a sob.

“He did this to you?” Ellie asked, her voice deadly calm and quiet.

You refused to answer.

“Is he your fucking boyfriend?” She prodded, her voice even sharper and more offended now.

You scoffed, pulling away from her touch. You thought she was jealous of the idea of you having a romantic partner. But in fact, she was deeply offended at the universe, she was in turmoil at the idea that someone would even consider hurting you when they claimed to love you.

“My brother.” You told her, the word almost sounding like poison on your tongue. “I would never choose someone like him. But I’ve been stuck with him for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh.” Ellie said quietly.

It was not a possibility she had considered. But she knew that there had never been any romantic connotations to the interactions between the two of you. Only danger, intimidation, and pain.

It was almost a worse fate, in a sense. The idea that you had been saddled with him because of genetics, that you couldn’t escape him because of obligation, or being forced to survive together.

“Yeah, oh.” You repeated, tears clutching the inside of your throat. “And really, it’s none of your business. He’s always taken care of me. He takes care of me, so-”

“This is not taking care of you.” Ellie argued sharply, gesturing to the mark on your face. “If you need someone to take care of you, I’m right here.”

You rolled your eyes at this. Again, you thought it was jealousy. That it was her trying to make herself seem appealing as a romantic partner.

You didn’t know that she was serious, that she would give you the world on a silver platter if given the chance.

“And I sure as hell won’t hit you.” Ellie added on.

“That’s easy for you to say.” You scoffed.

“That’s easy for me to do.” She fired back. “Not beating the people you love is the bare fucking minimum. In case no one ever told you that.”

Her last words were intensely sharp, but struck a chord deep inside of you. It caused your stomach to churn with harsh realization, something you probably already knew that was brought to the surface and waved in your face:

This was not a life that everyone lived.

“I can’t do this right now.” You huffed quietly, shaking your head.

You were still swimming deep in denial, hating the idea that your life was founded entirely on pain. But Ellie would fight through all of that pain to get to you.

“Come on, how long is it gonna be before he kills you?” She asked, the words quiet but devastatingly striking.

You remained painfully silent.

“What kind of life is this for you?” She spoke up when you did not reply. “There’s so much more out there for you that doesn’t involve your asshole brother.”

“Look, you know nothing about him.” You said sharply. “You don’t know what kind of life he’s had. You don’t know what he’s been through. What we’ve been through. Some of the things he’s saved me from.”

Ellie could only imagine what was going through your mind. Obviously, she had seen some of the darker things the world was capable of. She knew that if your brother had saved you from some of those horrors, it made him look like a saint by comparison.

She wanted to scream that you didn’t have to go through this. Life didn’t have to be like this. Absorbing his hits and being a target for his anger wasn’t necessary for your survival.

“Usually it’s my fault anyway.” You sighed. “I meant what I said before. I have some weird talent for pissing him off.”

Ellie was downright insulted at this.

“It is not your fault.” She rushed to say, her throat straining with the intense passion behind the words.

You found it difficult to believe her.

Any reply you could have mustered was drowned out by the sound of heavy boots coming up the porch.

“Get out.” You barked at Ellie, panicked. “Get out, you have to leave.”

You shoved Ellie out the back door before she could argue, and the sound of more screaming and an ugly collision of a hand on flesh made Ellie clench her fists to avoid charging back inside. She had to tell herself one simple thing - she wouldn’t be able to explain a murder to Maria or Tommy.

She wouldn’t have to.

And there was maybe only one other person in town who would understand.

She went right from your place to Joel’s, and he seemed too pleased about her being there in order for him to really question it. He seemed even more pleased when she asked for his help.

When Ellie explained the situation, she was surprised that Joel didn’t want to take it to Maria. But they both knew that she was diplomatic. She had an entire town to think of. She couldn’t be chasing down people’s personal problems, and she couldn’t be known for doling out vigilante justice. She had to make people in Jackson feel safe, and she didn’t think that civilian trials and public executions would be the way to do that. And as far as Ellie knew, nobody in Jackson had ever acted up like this before. Maybe they were just good at keeping it a secret. (That thought scared her more than anything.)

Joel suggested something about a quiet smothering and a shovel. Nobody would ever find the guy’s body, he reasoned.

Ellie didn’t want it that way. Even if the guy was a piece of shit, he was your only family. She knew that in some fucked up way, you would miss him.

No - it needed to be his choice. And he wasn’t going to make the right choice on his own. So they had to guide him to it. Well, they had to force him to it and shove his face in the damn right choice.

And then, if he didn’t make the right choice - then they would go to Joel’s version, a Plan B, and they would get the shovel.

Her and Joel talked it over for hours, making a solid Plan A. When they were both finally satisfied, Ellie left out the back door to head to her place to finally crash for the night - when had it gotten dark out?

She paused in her tracks when she saw you standing at the bottom of the few stairs that led up to the porch.

You had a large sweatshirt hood pulled up over your head, and in the minimal light from the back door’s bulb, Ellie could see that your eyes were entirely startled. Your cheek was sporting a fresh, wicked bruise that hadn’t been there before. Your lip was busted, and you had the neck of the sweater pulled up, half hiding some marks on your neck.

Clearly your brother had come home furious about something. Perhaps he had seen Ellie leaving. She partially felt guilty about it, and definitely felt more secure in her plan.

“I - uh - I ran into Dina, and she said I could find you here.” You said, motioning off to where you must have spoken to Dina, muttering nervously because Ellie had been standing there for a few moments staring you down with sadness in her eyes and had not spoken. “I was gonna knock. But… I…”

‘I got nervous.’ The words were lost on your tongue. You knew it sounded strange. Being afraid to knock. Being afraid to ask for help.

Ellie walked down the steps to meet you on the ground, and you didn’t move away when she reached up and brushed a gentle thumb across your lip - not quite touching the area when it had been split open, but clearly scorning it in her mind.

She wanted to suggest something about running away, but she knew Joel would just come after her. The easier solution would simply be to get rid of the awful man who had done this to you.

You grabbed her wrist and leaned into her hand. She cupped your cheek then, holding you so tenderly that it almost hurt. Your body was so unfamiliar with sweetness, with comfort.

“I can’t do this.” You sobbed quietly. “Ellie, I can’t do this.”

You weren’t feeling brave enough to leave the familiar, the thing that bound you in pain and torment.

“Yes, you can.” Ellie told you firmly.

She gently tilted your head up, forcing your gaze toward hers.

“Ask me.” She told you.

You both knew what it meant.

‘Ask me for my help.’

‘Ask me to get rid of that monster, and I will.’

You let it bubble inside of you. The words swelled up inside of your throat, and a wicked sob escaped, causing hot tears to leak down and touch Ellie’s hand before you got it out.

“Help me.” You croaked. “Please.”

“I will.” Ellie told you firmly. “I’ll get rid of him.”

She leaned in then and planted a kiss on your forehead, something sweet enough to render another sob from your throat. When she moved to pull away, you reached around and grabbed the back of her shirt, clutching on tight to keep her there, pulling her into a hug and holding her to savor the precious temporary moment you were able to be away from your tormentor.

“Ellie?” You said her name, and she hummed a response, still leaning with her lips gently pressed against your forehead. “I know - I know it’s so stupid. But… I don’t want him dead.” You told her. Ellie had predicted as much. “I just… I want him gone.”

“It’s not stupid.” Ellie assured you. “I understand.”

By the time Ellie got everything together, the cold was just setting in.

The first snowfall had just hit Jackson, and she had made sure to keep a close eye on you in the interim. You told her over and over again that you were going to be fine.

A few times you even went back on your ask, you told her that you and your brother were getting along much better. Ellie’s gut churned on the days when you smiled and told her that things between you and your brother were getting much better, that he was making an effort to control his temper, that you could see him making ‘big changes’.

On for another fresh wound to show up on you and when she would ask you about it, you broke down crying and declared that it was all your stupid fault.

Ellie knew that he was never going to change. And it only made her more firm in her convictions to carry through with the plan that she and Joel had carefully laid out.

Gathering the supplies needed for her plan wasn’t as hard as she originally thought.

The pharmacy in Jackson was surprisingly easy to steal from. She found a pharmaceutical journal in the library; finding out which drugs could knock out a grown man and memorizing the names of them - not that hard.

And then Ellie took an easy fall during one of her patrols, wincing and whining about the pain in her twisted wrist far more than she felt it, getting the nurse to unlock the drug cabinet to give her some tylenol with codeine. Then she ‘accidentally’ knocked over a tray with a bunch of stray pieces on it, and she got what she needed out of the unlocked cupboard like clockwork.

She wasn’t sure if the people in Jackson were naive, or if she was far too used to being a criminal.

Her wrist had healed up nicely by the time everything else was ready.

Joel thought it would be wisest that they use his basement.

He explained to Ellie that they could use an old military technique - shut out all the light, take away anything potentially familiar about the room, make it naked and bare and anonymous so that it would seem like a random place that could be anywhere.

It would be right in town, but the prospect of seeming so far off, so ‘in the middle of nowhere’ - it would be a good part of the scare tactic. They spent some time cleaning out the basement, putting garbage bags over the windows, and draping the room in plastic tarping - partially to scare him, and partially, just in case.

Joel got a bottle of cheap whiskey that he watered down some, and Ellie poured out the bottle of pills onto the counter with the intention to crush them all up and mix them with the alcohol.

“Christ Ellie, that’s enough to take down a goddamn horse.” Joel commented.

Clearly, it was too many pills.

Ellie took a handful of them - half, and put them back in the original bottle. When she looked up at Joel again, he shook his head. Still too many?

“Here, let me.” He said, gently shouldering her out of the way so he could make the mixture himself.

“You act like you’ve done this before.” She commented.

“You act surprised that I’ve done this before.” He replied.

He did have a point. Especially considering that when Joel had met Ellie, he had likely been expecting her to be a large bag of drugs, and not a child who needed to be smuggled.

Joel put back a much bigger portion of the pills, only leaving four tablets that he began to crush up to be mixed in with the drink.

“The alcohol is gonna magnify the effects of this stuff. A lot.” Joel explained, emphasizing the last words. “You kept saying you didn’t wanna kill him. So you don’t need to give him an overdose.”

Ellie nodded. It was a good point. She felt lucky to have his help with this.

Joel scraped the crushed up tablets - now a powder - into the bottle, and put his thumb over the opening to seal it while he shook it up, making sure it was well dissolved before he put the cap back on.

“Remember. Pour one for yourself, but don’t fucking drink from it.” Joel reminded her.

It was a mental tactic. Pour two glasses, so as to not seem suspicious, but don’t take a sip.

Joel handed her the bottle, and they walked over to your place.

Ellie made sure that Dina was keeping you busy with spare chores, things she supposedly couldn’t do without your help, ensuring that you would be out of the house for the night and wouldn’t miss your brother gone. Ellie went around to the front door and Joel went to the back, waiting for her signal.

She knocked on the front door and when your brother answered, she waved the bottle. She apologized for the two of them having gotten off ‘on the wrong foot’ when he first came into town. She claimed that she wanted to set things right with him.

He looked her up and down with suspicion, but opened the door. He fetched a couple of glasses and Ellie did as Joel instructed - poured one for herself after she poured one for him, took it in her hand, but didn’t sip from it.

He eagerly knocked the first drink back and Ellie hated the fact that he didn’t pass out right away. He poured himself a second and she forced herself to make an attempt at conversation.

She asked about one of the pictures he had on the mantle over the fireplace - a framed photo of him and some woman. He grunted, saying that it was ‘his bitch’ but ‘she was dead now’. The way he spoke about women made Ellie want to hurl. This caused the conversation to lull into him asking if Ellie had a boyfriend.

She shrugged it off. Especially seeing as he didn’t seem like the most accepting type if she told him why she didn’t have one. Then he looked her up and down as though he was inspecting her. As though just because she didn’t have a man in her life, that made her an available prospect for him. Ellie clutched her glass so hard she thought it cracked.

He took more gulps of his drink, and then he mentioned you. He said that he had seen Ellie talking to you.

He wasn’t clever about his intentions. He wanted to know why someone who was clearly friendly toward his sister wanted to be on his good side all of a sudden.

Before she could make up some lie, the drugs kicked in. He became hazy, and made a slurred thought about his liquor tolerance being higher normally before he dropped to the floor, out cold.

Ellie knocked on the back door for Joel, and they had his unconscious body halfway down the basement stairs when Tommy’s voice came into the house, shouting for Joel. They both gave each other that ‘oh shit’ look and Joel dropped the man’s head like a sack of potatoes. He rushed up the stairs to talk to Tommy before his brother could come to them.

Ellie dragged the dead weight the rest of the way, and she listened as the voices carried through the house. Joel was getting called out for an emergency patrol route - a large horde of Infected had been spotted near the west watch tower.

Tommy asked for Ellie too, but Joel lied and said that he hadn’t seen her.

As Joel was gathering his things to leave, he went to the top of the basement stairs. He gave Ellie one last firm, knowing look. It was an out. She knew that if she wanted to, he would stay back and help her clean up the mess, and they would find some other way to go about things so she wouldn’t have to go it alone.

But she was firm in her convictions.

“I’ve got this.” She told him, giving him a nod.

He nodded back and then closed the basement door.

She picked a steady beam in the ceiling.

She dangled off it with her body weight to make sure it wouldn’t budge (even though your asshole brother was probably a good hundred pounds heavier than her). And then she put him in the noose Joel had tied, with the rope tied precariously around the beam.

She had more than enough slack on it to make sure that he wouldn’t choke while still unconscious from the drugs. As tempting as it was to simply kill the man who had been abusing you for years, this was about scaring him. This was a warning. An attempt to get him to make the right choice. His hands were tied behind his back, making him unable to get away.

As he came around to consciousness, he began to groan and squirm, and Ellie wasted no time in putting her plan into action.

She went to where she had the other end of the rope tied, fashioned to some hook that might have been used to hang up tools or something else at one point, and she untied it and hoisted him up. He choked furiously as his breath was cut off by the noose, and Ellie made sure he was far enough off the ground before she grabbed something else important - the stool.

When preparing, Joel had intentionally cut off two of the legs, making it wobbling and unsteady. She put it underneath him and guided his legs to it, and then he took a wheezing breath as the pressure was released from his neck while his feet wobbled on it unsteadily.

“What the fuck?” He barked out, obviously trying to sound intimidating when he was so breathless. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re fucking insane!”

Ellie took a step back, looking up at him with a neutral expression. He was entirely powerless. He couldn’t swing and hit her, he couldn’t run. If he jumped, he would hang himself. He was completely at her mercy, and he had to listen to what she had to say.

In regards to the question, she shrugged.

“Maybe.” She said simply. “I just wanna talk.”

“Oh, you wanna talk?!” He growled out the words in anger, still trying to sound lager and more powerful than he was.

And then, all too predictably, he swung out his leg in an attempt to kick her.

Ellie easily dodged it, and the motion made him unsteady on the stool. Both his legs fell off, and she simply watched as he struggled, hanging freely by the noose for a few moments. He sputtered and choked, kicking around frantically to get his feet back on the stool. It was a wonder that he didn’t knock it over.

Eventually, he did get back up to stand on it before he passed out. He continued to choke on the air, veins bulging in his face from the effort. All while Ellie stood back, arms crossed, staring at him condescendingly.

“That was stupid.” She commented quietly.

“Fuck you!” He choked out.

“Look, the way I see it, you have two choices. Maybe three.” Ellie explained.

He glared at her with absolute poison in his eyes, but remained silent and still, other than the tremors in his legs as he struggled to balance on the stool.

“Option one: you continue being a petty bitch, so I leave you here.” She told him simply. “You can test your endurance for a few hours, maybe even a few days. But no one will find you, if they come looking at all. And eventually, your legs will give out from exhaustion and you’ll hang.”

“Y/N will come for me.” He replied confidently. The devilish smirk that spread across his face gave Ellie the urge to smack him.

“No.” Ellie argued, just as quick, just as confident. “You really think Y/N is gonna be able to find you?”

This was the mind game Joel had talked about. He was right in Jackson, right under your nose. Would he shout for help, or would he believe that he was out in the middle of nowhere, stranded somewhere that you would never be able to find him?

His silence was all too telling. Ellie resisted the urge to smile, knowing how important a firm, intimidating face was in this situation.

“Option two,” She continued on, taking his silence as a sure sign that he didn’t like option one. “You can listen to what I have to say, and you can get agreeable about it real fast.”

“What’s option three?” He asked.

Of course, he didn’t like option two either. He didn’t like being agreeable.

But Ellie had a feeling that in a few minutes, option two would be the one that he’d beg for.

“You say something I don’t like,” She got her switchblade out of her back pocket, and clicked the switch to show off the sharp, shiny blade. “And then I kill you.”

There was a pointed moment of silence as he looked between the sharp point of her knife and her unforgiving, deadly calm expression. For a moment, his enraged face wavered, and then came fear. It was just a flicker, but Ellie saw it as weakness. And she was going to exploit it.

“What the fuck do you want?” He barked.

“It’s very simple.” Ellie explained. “Leave Y/N the fuck alone. Get your shit, leave town, and get as far away from her as possible.”

“That’s my sister.” He argued. “That’s my blood. You can’t just expect me to abandon the only family I have, I-”

“If you respected her as your family, you wouldn’t fucking beat her.” Ellie cut him off, the words turning to poison on her tongue.

He looked intensely caught in that moment, his expression becoming ghostly. As if he somehow hadn’t figured out that this whole thing was about his abusive ways.

“What? You don’t like me ‘cause I protect her? ‘Cause I look out for her?” He immediately switched, swelling into that self righteous, taunting person he was with you. “You wanna fuck her, don’t you? You fucking self righteous rug muncher, think you know what’s better for my own sister than I do! What the hell is wrong with you? You-”

As he ranted, Ellie stepped forward and hesitantly grabbed the waistband of his pants. Clearly, the message wasn’t getting through to him.

And though it was something more disgusting to her than blood, guts, viscera, even the smell of an old moldy building - Ellie yanked down his pants in one swift movement, trying to ignore the sight of it in front of her. She placed her switchblade right at the spot where his dick met his inner thigh, simply resting it there.

The feeling of the cold metal in such a sensitive spot easily shut him up. His stomach clenched as he held his breath, likely waiting for Ellie to cut him.

With him on the stool, it was hovering at around eye level, and she tried her hardest not to look directly at it. For you, it was worth it. That’s what she told herself.

“Listen carefully,” Ellie told him, her voice still low, still deadly calm. “You are going to agree to my terms, or they’re going to find your body missing this.” She threatened him, gently nudging the blade upwards, not yet cutting into flesh.

He gasped, shock and horror crashing through his system. He continued to struggle with balancing on the stool, struggling not to lean into the knife by accident and maim himself by mistake.

He looked at Ellie with terror in his eyes, but oddly enough, he didn’t say anything. Ellie considered it progress.

“I’m going to be very generous,” She said lowly, making it sound like a threat. “You have twenty four hours to get your shit, and get the hell out of Jackson. I don’t give a fuck what you tell Y/N. In fact, you don’t have to tell her anything at all. Just disappear. I don’t care where you go. Just get the fuck away from here. The farther, the better.”

Ellie paused, letting her words hang in the air for a moment.

“If you’re still in town by sundown tomorrow, I will kill you.” She said. “If you tell Y/N about this little incident, I will kill you. If I see Y/N later and she has a single scratch on her-”

“You’ll kill me.” He quickly finished off the sentence as he thought she would say it.

Ellie shook her head, putting on a wicked grin of her own for the first time during the conversation.

“No.” She said, a chuckle peeking through her voice. “I’ll make it slow. I’ll make you beg for death. I’ll make you wish that you had taken this very fucking generous first offer.”

There was another silence, filled only by the wobbling legs of the stool rocking against the ground, and the man’s anxious breaths.

Ellie wondered if he was stupid enough to decline her generosity.

“Okay.” He finally agreed.

Ellie hoped that she wouldn’t have to follow through on her threats, but she wouldn’t hesitate to.

She took her knife away from his crotch, leaving a small nick on his inner thigh that would hopefully serve as a good enough reminder of what he was supposed to do.

Of course, the temptation to hurt him more brutally was there. She knew that if Joel came home and she was covered in blood - he would help her clean up. He would help her hide the body. But Ellie knew that this was about something bigger than herself, her own rage, her own guilt.

It was about keeping your conscience clean.

She knew that if you ever found out that she had killed your brother, no matter the reason, no matter the situation - the guilt would fall back onto you. You would spend the rest of your days wondering how you could have done things differently to solve a problem that was never your fault. So she would take the burden of guilt or fault off of you, and force it onto him - where it belonged. He would get to live, but he would never go near you. Not ever again.

After thinking about all of this for a moment, and calming herself, Ellie unceremoniously cut him down, letting him fall into the middle of the floor with a grunt. She pulled his pants back up and shoved a bag over his head. The bag something else that Joel had woven into the plan - another scare tactic.

She kept his arms bound behind him as she struggled to lug him all the way across town without getting caught. He struggled against her hold and spoke up every now and then, demanding to be released, but Ellie simply kicked him and told him to shut up. It worked well. It seemed that he was truly afraid of her, because he was much more docile now than the man who had risked hanging himself to kick her in the head.

She dumped him on the back porch of your house and cut the ties on his wrist. He could feel stupid later for the fact that he had been in town the whole time, not secluded off in the woods someplace you would never find him. He yanked the bag off his head and looked up at Ellie with pure scorn in his eyes, and she held up her knife once more, reminding him just how sharp it was as she left him with some parting words.

“Sundown. Tomorrow.” She told him firmly. “Or Y/N won’t even find the pieces of you scattered out in those woods.”

Ellie was surprised when he didn’t say a single word, didn’t even hurl any insults at her back as she walked away.

She had no idea that he was happy to cut his losses, thinking that you weren’t worth the trouble if Ellie was willing to kidnap, threaten, and eventually kill for you.

Ellie went to bed early and hoped that everything had worked.

She woke up from a deep, hazy sleep to pounding on her door.

She struggled to get out of bed, thinking there was some kind of emergency. She flicked on a light and opened the door, and you came rushing inside.

Ellie almost didn’t see you through her sleep dulled eyes, her lids still half-closed, but she recognized your voice as she closed the door behind you.

“My brother is gone.” You said, your voice edging between worry and fear. Ellie thought you might be relieved. She didn’t know that you were still tentative - scared that he might come back, terrified it was a trick. “It’s just - he just packed up all his things, and when I woke up, he was gone. And he left me this note.”

You thrust a piece of paper into Ellie’s hands, and she blinked her sticky eyes open a few times in order to read it. She scanned over the messy writing, barely absorbing it. It was some bullshit about how Jackson ‘wasn’t right for him’ and he felt ‘suffocated’ and he was going to travel to catch up with your group who had gone to the coast, he thought he was a man of the sea, blah blah - but you needed to stay in Jackson, because it would be safer for you.

“It’s a trick.” You announced as Ellie read over the words. Your voice quaked, your throat tight with fear. When Ellie looked up, tears were dancing in your eyes. There were sharp scratches on your neck - they were scabbing over, and a greenish bruise on your cheek that was fading. “It’s gotta be a trick. He’s testing me. He wants me to - to follow him? Or he’s coming back, or-”

Ellie tossed the paper aside, uncaring of where it landed, and then stepped toward you, grasping your face with gentle hands.

“It’s okay.” She said calmly. “He’s gone.”

She echoed the words you had said that night, letting you know that she had miraculously granted your request.

If it was true, then you would consider her a guardian angel. But you almost couldn’t bring yourself to believe it.

“You did something.” You said quietly. It wasn’t accusing. It was a simple truth. You swallowed thickly. You waited before you asked your next question. “Is he dead?”

You would have hated to think that Ellie would go through so much trouble to frame his murder as him simply leaving town.

“Would you hate me if he was?” She replied.

Strangely enough, you had no clue how to feel.

Ellie saw the warring on your face, the years of pain tethering in your soul, and hoped to release you from it.

“He’s alive.” She sighed, a heavy awful truth floating from her lips. You looked somewhat relieved, but then that fear pricked into your big, sad eyes once again. “He’s not coming back. I can promise you that.”

If he did, Ellie would kill him. But she didn’t speak those words to you.

You lunged forward then, tightening your hands around her back, squeezing her with intense, passionate ferocity as you pressed your face into her shoulder and began to sob. Ellie held you dutifully, trying her hardest to be gentle with you, petting smoothly over your back as her heart ached at the sound of your cries. She had no idea that it was relief - pure relief exhaling from your lungs, the feeling of finally being able to breathe with the presence of that dark tormentor no longer hanging over your life.

“Thank you.” You sobbed, clutching onto her shirt. “Thank you, Ellie. Thank you.”

…

When Joel came back from his patrol, he asked where Ellie had buried the body. She sighed and told him that the guy had made the wise decision to leave town. Completely of his own accord. He shrugged and said he didn’t care either way - he just wanted to meet the ‘lovely young woman who was worth going through all the trouble for’.

Ellie invited you over for steaks at Joel’s house a few days later, and artfully dodged all the questions about whether you were dating or not.

…

A few months later, when winter thawed out and spring had come around once again, Ellie had taken you beyond the walls of Jackson once again, both of you delighting in the purity of everything nature had to offer, and your newfound freedom.

“Is it just me or is the air out here… fresher?” You posed, inhaling deeply as you threw your head back, truly basking in the nature around you.

Ellie giggled at this, and you threw a smile back over your shoulder at her. You walked along the path, bobbing between the trees and enjoying the greenery as it thawed out from the snow.

“It’s the mountains, there’s nothing but fresh air up here.” Ellie chuckled. “As far as I’m concerned, it beats living in the city. That place stunk to high hell. People piled on top of each other, old rotting buildings, no trees anywhere.”

You let out a small laugh at this. It wasn’t Ellie’s greatest work in comedy, but your lungs felt much lighter these days, and she soaked up the sound like the new saplings soaking up the sun.

She had also noticed your choice of attire for the day. For her, there was still that small nip in the air, something indicating that there might be one last frost left to the year, something that made her want to wear a sweater. But you had worn a short sleeved tee shirt with your jeans, and Ellie preened at the fact that there was not a single bruise anywhere on your skin. Some old scars that she could never have the hopes of reversing, but more and more lately, your smile outshined all of them.

“Ooh, look at this!” Ellie came to crouch at a small patch of grass, what you didn’t recognize as thick reeds that were somewhat special to her.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Joel taught me this.” She noted, making you even more intrigued.

Ellie plucked one out of the dirt, and held it between her two palms before she held it up to her two lips and blew - it made a sharp noise like a duck’s call, and you instantly began giggling at this delightfully strange sound.

“Okay, how did you do that?” You asked, kneeling down beside her.

Ellie grabbed up another one and put it in your hands, positioning them well. After a nod from her, you put it to your lips and gave a hard breath. You dissolved into laughter once again when it made that strange sound.

“I love that.” Ellie commented, absolutely beaming herself.

“What? You play the guitar but your favorite instrument is grass?” You joked.

“No.” She replied. “I love that smile.” She told you, motioning up toward your face. “That’s why I fell in love with you.”

“Els.” You murmured quietly, unable to truly explain the wave of emotion that came over you - being intensely thankful for her saving you, changing the course of your life, the swelling of love you felt for her and how it only grew with time.

Ellie didn’t need words. She leaned in and kissed you then, and you - for the first time in a long time - relaxed into her love and let yourself be happy.

From time to time, you were tempted to ask what exactly it was that she had done to make your brother go away. But as the months ticked on and your relationship developed - as Ellie helped you navigate your freedom and enjoy the sweeter things in life, you found that you truly didn’t care.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so please do not ask about a sequel or a continuation for it, because there won't be one. If you liked it and you want to comment on it, please comment on the body of work that I have written. Or feel free to check out the many other works I have written on my TLOU Masterlist. Thank you!!

#sundrop writes #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #the last of us

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areyoudreaminof · 2 months

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some word salad behind the cut

I never thought I’d ever get into writing. My self esteem is so minimal it’s nearly non existent, so I had never bothered to try. But I started writing last year and found I was enjoying it. I made grand plans to write more until I didn’t.

My passion became my poison, suddenly.

As I scrolled through endless fics and writers much more talented than I am, my anxiety perched itself on my shoulder like a crow and squawked in my ear.

“The shit you’re putting out? No wonder nobody is reading it. You’re writing boring stuff. Who gives a fuck about kids and one shots?” It would say. I’d reply that I didn’t want to write smut. I don’t like doing it and it felt silly.

“So why are you writing at all?” Anxiety Crow said, “That’s what people want. And you can’t even do that.”

It came to a head right before Elucien Week. Last year, I wrote three fics I am still immensely proud of. One of which opened a door for me with the first Next Gen characters I came up with. I had assumed that I’d have something else lined up for this year's Elucien Week.

But in that year, I had a lot of personal changes and mental health challenges that weren’t getting better. I made the mistake of starting a long fic and it became this beast that I couldn’t tame. Even one shots and snippets became a chore. I’d have to force myself to finish a chapter, to try and translate the images I saw in my head to paper, but it wasn’t working. This coincided with my depression peaking in early 2024, in which I got suicidal and had to seek help.

By January, I’d gotten more frustrated with my writing, by June, I despised writing in its entirety. Three days before Elucien Week was due to begin, I hovered my mouse over DELETE ACCOUNT on AO3 and nearly trashed a year worth of work. I decided to take a step back to clear my head and to put a stop to this toxic competition I had with myself. I didn’t want to lose the hobby I’d grown to love and destroy the new friendships I’d made. I was absolutely terrified of losing those wonderful friends I’ve made and I felt so guilty and angry at myself for fumbling the bag and not writing anything.

I can’t even tell you why I obsessed over it, I may never go back to writing at all, but the weight of that self hatred has eased up from my chest. It’s not eating me alive anymore. That’s not to say it’s gone of course. Just the other day I had another major moment of doubt, and nearly trashed everything, again. I’m trying to parse through my own mind constantly to sort out my own spirals and triggers. Some days it’s working, others it’s not.

I think I’m now telling you about it, because I’m sure you’re feeling it too. People reached out to me to check on me when I left and others to let me know they were having the same problems. The feelings of inferiority among fandom, the nagging expectations we placed on ourselves. Never mind any of the challenges we face in our daily lives. What’s the worth of my mental health and happiness and why the fuck do I keep measuring it like this?

Whatever comes of this break, I hope that all of us can find our self worth, wherever it is. I see so many incredible artists, writers, and people that inspire me to want to keep going. If you’re reading this, you’re one of them.

Take a breath and take a break. We’ll figure it out.

#don’t mind me #just screaming into the void #writing #mental health

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salty-ironstrange-shipper · 4 months

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Hi. I saw this post asking for a fic that changed one's brain chemistry. Now there are a lot of fics I like; over 2000 bookmarked on ao3. And a lot of fics I love; I have 400+ of those fics tagged 'fave'. Of those 400, there are only around two dozen I would say legitimately changed me as a person. 1% changed the way I saw relationships and the world, changed the way I read and write. And I couldn't narrow it down to one - or ten - and didn't want to dump in OP's tags. So have this list of fics that permanently changed who I am as a person.

Warning: I love long fics, and some of these are the same specific tropes that I love or that really affect me personally (ex. arranged marriage). Expect angst, and especially angst with a happy ending. That said these fics are all objectively amazing.

(sorry to people who don't like long fics, but we are simply not the same. and that's OK.)

listed in order of fandom, then length.

Banshee In A Well - 43k, complete, DC, Tim Drake. Childhood trauma, childhood trauma, came back wrong/can't stop coming back! Tim is a little FREAK and I luv him.

straight on 'til morning - 102k, complete, DC, timkon/Kon-El. This is within the niche genre that for some reason appeals to me specifically, of characters having a LOT of feelings about sex and dealing with it poorly.

variations on a theme - 5k, complete, MCU, ironstrange. This is one of the fics that made me truly love ironstrange. Stephen sees through millions of possibilities and in doing so, falls in love with Tony. Evocative, beautiful, succinct.

The Art of Losing - 33k, complete, Red White and Royal Blue, firstprince. This fic made me cry. This fic BROKE MY HEART. And I WENT BACK TO IT. Multiple times! This is a breakup fic that breaks you down then puts you back together. You will come out different, and only you can say if it's for the worse or the better.

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) - 65k, complete, Red White and Royal Blue, firstprince. There are so many firstprince fics that essentially translate the events of the book into a different setting. And I love all of them. (My own fic, then fucking have me, also does this, self plug self plug self plug). I had to narrow this selection down to just one, and this is probably my absolute favorite.

You Don't Have To (Say Yes) - 192k, complete, Star Trek, spirk/Jim Kirk. This is within the niche genre that for some reason appeals to me specifically, of characters having a LOT of feelings about sex and dealing with it poorly (yeah, again).

THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS - 262k, complete, Star Trek, spirk. Star Trek arranged marriage epistolary fic. I read this 4 years ago, and I STILL think of a line from this fic constantly (we're aligned, we're aligned, we're aligned). If you don't read anything else for the rest of your life, read this.

DON'T THE WAVES PULL THE SAND? DON'T THE MOON PULL THE TIDES? - 58k, complete, Star Wars, finnpoe. I don't even go here. And yet. And yet. This is within the niche genre that for some reason appeals to me specifically, of characters having a LOT of feelings about sex and dealing with it poorly (yeah, AGAIN).

Not Part of the Plan - SERIES, 8 works, 337k, complete. Supernatural, destiel. This is an arranged marriage fic au series, that started with a oneshot pwp, and somehow grew into a sprawling, world and character building EPIC. And that to me is always a marker of quality. You KNOW it's good if the author couldn't stop themselves.

wander your own land - 379k, incomplete, Yellowjackets, shaunajackie and others. I told you I like long fics. Girl survival situationships, cannibalism, jealousy, cabin fever, hallucinations, trying to keep a fucking baby alive in some of the worst possible circumstances.

Infinite Variations of a Summer Day - 76k, complete, X-Men, Pietro Maximoff. I love Pietro, he is one of my favorite characters of all time, and this is such a great character fic. See Pietro slowly driven insane in a time loop that examines his relationships with himself, his team, his family, and his powers.

drop your own recs in the notes. and if you have any suggestions for griddlehark/the locked tomb, pLEA- *gunshots*

#fandom #fanfiction #fic recs #incorrect-ironstrange #tim drake #timkon #kon el #conner kent #ironstrange #firstprince #spirk #finnpoe #destiel #yellowjackets #shaunajackie #pietro maximoff

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onboardsorasora · 3 months

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Maybe you have an au that works for this— but thinking about accidental baby acquisition maxiel. Like a “life as we know it” (the movie) AU where they have to adopt a kid, live together and suddenly make it work

Oh! Oh!!

BESTIE. This is...

I don't currently have a fic in the works like this but I honestly love this trope so much. There's a fic I read in my last fandom that did it sooooo lovely.

I will say, I don't remember this film but I read the summary and my brain lit up a little. I hope I'm not like scooping the finer plot points

I imagine they met because their mutual friends are together. Maybe they met originally at the wedding years ago and they're the childhood besties of their friends and get named God parents.

Fast forward maybe 3 years and something bad happens and their friends pass. And it's when they both realize that being named God parents meant that they're responsible for their godchild. Max knew but Daniel had no idea that it was so serious. He just thought it was an honour and now he's extra special uncle Daniel.

Let's say their friends had a son, Jack. And Max goes to the house to meet up with Jack's grandparents who ofc are grieving and don't want to give up their grandchild but Jack is supposed to be in Max's care.

He stays at the house, so Jack has some stability. Daniel comes the next day- he travelled all night. Jack runs to him when he gets inside and Daniel breaks down clutching this little boy to him.

Max offers coffee. Jack spent the night clutched into his chest and he's trying to not feel jealous that he's not clinging to Daniel.

They aren't friends. If anything maybe they didn't really get along during the wedding festivities. But it doesn't matter. They stay with Jack at the house while the grandparents plan the wakes and the funerals.

They both try to explain what it all means and argue about whether telling a 3yr old that death was like final was a good thing. They argue about a lot of things because Daniel believes in protecting Jack a little more about he harshness of the world and Max thinks that it's a bit pragmatic to not lie.

There wasn't really a will because Jacks parents were young and full of life. They couldn't have anticipated the car accident. So because of that any legal decisions made while alive count. Meaning Daniel and Max have full custody of Jack.

Daniel thinks they should allow his grandparents to take care of him. Max thinks they should honour their friend's wishes.

One pair of Jacks grandparents agree with him. Daniel figures they can agree to disagree. but they also can stay in the house with Jack for a little longer before they figure out next steps. Max is one of the executors of the estates and he has to go through all the paperwork and heavy shit.

Daniel watched Jack while Max is working. He spends a lot of time with the grandparents. Daniel moved away after uni and well, he works pretty remote so it's not a hardship to move back. At least until everything is sorted.

Max owns a business so paperwork and lawyers are things he knows. And when all is done he comes back to the house to spend time with Jack. And Daniel.

And it kinda continues like that, unconsciously. They don't like intend to become parental figures but they would do anything for Jack. And sure they still argue but they're happy to provide stability for their godson.

One of the grandparents suggests selling the house and it becomes a point of contention. Daniel disagrees. It's all Jack's known. They can't uproot him after everything.

Something something legalese that the only way to keep everything as it is now is for Daniel and Max to adopt Jack. And be his legal guardians. And the easiest way for that to happen is for them to get married.

Max agrees because fuck it. He'll do anything for Jack. Daniel agrees too because he loves the little shit. Jack is his best boy, his baby wayby. So they have a quick signing at the courthouse. No fandangles or fanfare. And they both completely move into the house.

And that's where things get dicey. Because it was fine before. When they were just friends with a mutual purpose but for some reason a title and a legal document has shifted something.

Max had always thought that Daniel was cute. But now he can't stop thinking about how lovely Daniel is while he's reading to Jack at bedtime or dancing around with him in the house to his dad's favorite albums.

And Daniel always tired to lightly flirt with Max where he could but now-- did Max's jaw get sharper? Are his eyes sparkling in the amber light of Jack's nightlights?

And there's tension and they're tripping over each other. And Jack notices something is different. And he gets worried. Cries that they're leaving him too.

And it's a tantrum of all tantrums and Jack is screaming and wailing and crying for his parents, his real parents. And it takes them hours to calm him. And he won't rest or sleep unless he's touching both of them. Clutching Max's shirt in one hand and Daniel's pinky (the one with the 3) in the other.

They're exhausted and crumbled in the main bedroom because it has the biggest bed. Neither of them sleep in there, it didn't feel right. But holding Jack there, cuddling him close, that felt right.

And maybe Max brushes some tears off of Jack's cheek and kisses him in the forehead and looks over at Daniel who is watching him quietly and Max pulls them both close. Daniel threads their fingers together and Max squeezes and kisses their palms

#well... this got away from me #lol i guess i do have a fic now with this plot lol #i didn't mean to write all of this but i hope it's good and legible #answered #anonymous #maxiel #max/daniel #accidental baby acquisition

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stargatelov3r · 6 months

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Teylabeth Week goes into its third round!

For everyone who is new to this or unsure what this is about, let me clear things up:

What is Teylabeth Week? Teylabeth week is a week during which we celebrate the ship of Teyla Emmagan/Elizabeth Weir more than usual, a week where we show our love and appreciation of this ship.

When is Teylabeth Week? Teylabeth Week 2024 will take place between June 3.-9.

How can I participate? There are many ways you can participate! By writing fanfic, making fanart, writing meta, editing, collaging, cosplaying, giffing, whatever seems right to you to celebrate this ship!

I don’t really write/make art/feel comfortable with sharing anything, can I still participate? Of course! This week lives through people who engage with the contributions! Go through the Teylabeth tag, engage with posts and fanart, comment on fics, the sort of things that keep fandoms alive!

Are there rules to the contributions? No rules! Everything is allowed! But please make sure that your contributions are tagged accordingly (ratings on ao3 as well as content warnings) so people can filter them out! Also, since this is Teylabeth week, the contributions should center around Teylabeth <3

Is there going to be a fic exchange? No, there isn’t.

Are there going to be prompts? Yes, indeed! You can find the prompts below.

Are the prompts binding? Absolutely not! They are meant as inspiration should you need it! You can do as many or as few prompts as you like, or none at all if your ideas are taking your elsewhere!

Is there going to be an ao3 collection? Yes! I will share the link in time!

Anything else I should know? Please tag your posts on social media with “Teylabeth Week 2024” so they can be found by everyone!

I still have questions, where can I direct them? To me! Simply sent me an ask or a message :)

Thank you so much for your help with coming up with these prompts @kira-nerys-rocks and L.

Happy creating!

Reblogs are super duper appreciated!

#teylabeth week 2024 #teylabeth week #teylabeth #sga #stargate atlantis #stargate fanfest #femslash #femlash event #femslash fanfest

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redginganinja · 7 months

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Nozel x Reader

Hey all.... Slowly trying to get back into writing and adding some fandoms to the list. One I'm into right now is Black Clover....

Anyways, here's a somewhat self indulgent fic for Nozel Silva x female reader.

Prologue

Y/N POV

Hissing in anger, I slammed my fist into the door, the solid oak absorbing the impact with a dull thud. Its imposing presence loomed tall as the ceiling, a formidable barrier that seemed to mock my attempts to escape. Locked tightly, it denied me even a glimpse of freedom, leaving me feeling claustrophobic and trapped within its unforgiving embrace.

“Ahem…” a voice cleared their throat behind me, breaking the suffocating silence.

I groaned, the frustration evident in my tone. “What?” I snapped without turning around, my fist still pressed against the unyielding door.

“We really should get started…” a male voice began, his words carrying a sense of urgency. “Your father instructed me to prepare you for the arrival of the King, and the rest of the royals.”

"What’s to prepare?" I asked the tutor sarcastically, finally turning around to face him, my gaze sharp and unrelenting. "Smile, say pleasant things - I can manage…"

He scoffed dismissively, his demeanor brimming with conviction. “There is far more to it than that, my lady. They will be here in the morning, and you are woefully underprepared.”

I regarded him with thinly veiled disinterest, my patience wearing thin. “Locking me in here with you will not convince me to listen. In fact…” A mischievous grin danced upon my lips as I extended my hand, conjuring a surge of magic that crackled with energy, freezing him to the floor where he stood. “You can stay here, but I have plans…”

“You cannot! I - “

I cut off his protests with a smirk, reveling in the control I held over the situation. “Do I need to freeze your mouth as well?” I taunted, relishing in the power coursing through my veins.

He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes wide with apprehension, and I couldn't help but smile. “Thank you. I’m leaving - you will not scream for help, or there will be hell to pay later. I will be back tonight…”

“Your father..” he began, his voice meek.

“ - I do not care what my father says. You will keep quiet if you know what’s good for you.” I hissed, my tone leaving no room for argument as I gathered my belongings with purpose.

Ignoring his wary gaze, I swiftly collected my things, tossing a bag out the window in a calculated act of defiance. I strode behind the privacy screen, shedding the confines of my formal attire with a sense of liberation, exchanging them for the simple garments of a commoner - pants and a casual tunic that offered freedom of movement and anonymity in equal measure.

Emerging from behind the screen, I met his gaze head-on, my expression unyielding. “You will keep quiet until you see the sun rising on the horizon. If I’m not home by then, you may worry, and send someone after me. Understood?” I demanded, my words laced with an unmistakable air of command.

He gulped audibly, his compliance evident in the nod of his head, and I accepted it without hesitation, knowing that my departure would not go unnoticed for long.

With purposeful strides, I made my way to the window, summoning a gust of wind to carry me down to the awaiting bag below. The descent was swifter than I intended, and I landed with a huff, the impact driving the breath from my lungs as I dusted myself off.

Draping a cloak around my shoulders, I pulled the hood low over my features, concealing my identity from prying eyes as I ventured into the bustling streets below. The town was alive with activity, preparations for the royal visit evident in every corner as people scurried about, consumed by the chaos of anticipation.

Navigating the labyrinthine streets with practiced ease, I blended seamlessly into the throng of commoners, my stolen cloak affording me the anonymity I sought. With each step, I felt the weight of expectation slip away, replaced by a sense of freedom and possibility that beckoned me forward into the unknown.

As I made my way through the streets, my senses were inundated with the vibrant spectacle of the town adorned in honor of the impending royal visit. Streamers danced in the breeze, and colorful signs adorned every corner, announcing the forthcoming festivities to all who passed by. The air buzzed with an electric energy as people hurried about, their frenzied movements a testament to the meticulous preparations underway - food stalls being erected, clothing stalls bustling with activity, and vendors hawking their wares in anticipation of the influx of visitors. It was a scene of organized chaos, a symphony of sights and sounds that enveloped me as I navigated through the throngs of people.

Despite the lively atmosphere, I found myself indifferent to the spectacle unfolding around me. The prospect of countless eyes upon me filled me with a sense of unease, a blush creeping to my cheeks at the mere thought of so many individuals recognizing me. With a resigned sigh, I pressed forward, my destination beckoning me with the promise of familiarity and solace amidst the chaos of the town.

Pushing open the creaking wooden door, I was immediately greeted by the clamor of the bustling tavern - rowdy men engaged in spirited conversation, tankards of ale clashing against worn wooden tables in raucous celebration. A nostalgic smile tugged at my lips at the familiar sounds, a sense of belonging washing over me as I stepped into the warmth of the bustling establishment.

“Oi, girl! Where ya been?” A booming voice called out, cutting through the din of the tavern.

I chuckled in response, the affectionate banter of the patrons a welcome embrace. “I missed you too, Mort. How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Mort grumbled, his weathered features creased in a bemused smile. “And the new girl is flailing…” He trailed off, nodding towards a young blonde woman struggling to navigate the crowded tavern with a tray of drinks in hand.

I grinned knowingly, my years of experience in this tavern lending me a sense of confidence in the chaotic environment. “Good thing I showed up when I did. Hand me a tray,” I replied, my tone laced with playful determination.

Mort chuckled heartily, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he passed me a serving tray. “I’ll pay you in beer,” he quipped, the familiar exchange eliciting a fond smile from me.

“Perfect,” I winked, accepting the tray with a grateful nod before making my way towards the beleaguered new waitress.

“Hey new girl, I’m here to help out. I’ll take some of the bigger tables - take a load off your shoulders,” I offered with a warm smile, extending a gesture of camaraderie to the overwhelmed young woman.

Her expression softened with relief, gratitude shining in her eyes as she accepted my assistance. “Thank you,” she replied earnestly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Just you wait - it gets a lot worse…” I reassured her with a laugh, offering a comforting pat on the shoulder. “But I’ve been slinging drinks for years, so I’ve got you covered.”

With a grateful nod, she turned her attention back to her duties, and I set off to tend to the needs of the tavern patrons. Moving from table to table, I greeted each patron with a warm smile, my focus solely on the task at hand as I navigated the bustling tavern with practiced ease. There was no time for pleasantries - the tavern was too slammed for such niceties - but with each drink served and each smile exchanged, I found myself slipping effortlessly into the rhythm of the familiar chaos, the promise of camaraderie and laughter guiding me through the bustling evening ahead.

A small group of imposing figures caught my eye, their attire betraying their status as magic knights - their robes, tattered and worn, spoke volumes of the battles they had faced and the challenges they had overcome. Despite my unease at their presence, I plastered on a smile, reminding myself of the reward awaiting me at the end of the night - cold, refreshing mugs of beer.

“What can I get for y’all?” I asked with forced cheerfulness, dispelling any notion of pleasantries in the face of the bustling tavern.

A large, dark-haired man in a tattered black robe grinned mischievously at me, his eyes alight with amusement. “Lots of beer, girl,” he teased, his words laced with playful banter.

I nodded in response, turning my attention to the thin man clad in a green robe beside him. “More beer than him…” he hissed, his demeanor sending a shiver down my spine. There was something unnerving about him, a sense of darkness that lingered in the air.

Next, I addressed the man in the crimson robe, his red hair framing a polite smile. “Just a beer, please,” he requested politely, his demeanor a stark contrast to the others at the table.

The man in the golden robe, his face concealed behind a mask, nodded in agreement, his silent acquiescence adding an air of mystery to his presence. Finally, I turned to the man in the blue robe, a braid of silver hair obscuring his features. “Water,” he spoke plainly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Suppressing a look at the odd request, I nodded in acknowledgment. “Very well… I’ll be back with your drinks shortly,” I informed them, turning on my heel and making my way behind the bar to fulfill their orders.

With practiced efficiency, I filled as many steins of beer as I could carry, balancing the water on top with ease. Returning to the table, I distributed the drinks with a sense of satisfaction, placing the water in front of the silver-haired man with an amused twinkle in my eye before handing out the beers to the others. “Just holler if you need something else,” I offered with a smile, my tone friendly yet professional.

Turning my attention back to the bustling tavern, I threw myself into the rhythm of the evening, serving patrons with renewed vigor as the night grew busier and busier. With each drink poured and each table served, I found myself growing progressively friendlier, my interactions with the patrons becoming more lighthearted and jovial as I indulged in chugs of beer between rounds.

Teasing and joking with those I served became second nature, my laughter mingling with the lively ambiance of the tavern as I navigated the bustling crowd with ease. However, when it came to the magic knights, I maintained a respectful distance, interacting with them only when necessary - which, given the drinking competition between the big man and the skinny man, was more frequent than I had anticipated.

I was startled from my serving flow when I heard a loud crash!, and the sounds of the tavern were abruptly silenced by the sudden disruption. All eyes turned towards the source of the commotion, which emanated from the new girl. She stood frozen, a tray of drinks scattered at her feet, her expression a mixture of shock and fear as she struggled against the grasp of a particularly loathsome patron who had seized her, pulling her forcefully into his lap as his hands traveled across her person.

My gaze narrowed at him, fury igniting within me at the sight of his brazen actions. This was not the first time I had warned this troublemaker about his behavior, yet he persisted in his despicable antics, seemingly emboldened with each transgression. Without hesitation, I seized a knife from the bar, my resolve solidifying as I stalked towards the table with determined purpose.

The girl caught sight of me and scrambled away from her assailant, who sat smugly, oblivious to the storm brewing around him as he laughed and took another swig of his beer. My anger surged, my mana pulsating with unrestrained power as I swiftly drove the knife into the table, the blade embedding itself next to his hand with a satisfying thud, drawing a sliver of his blood in its wake.

He turned to snarl at me, his bravado faltering as he registered my presence, his face draining of color with dawning recognition.

Snarling back, my voice unnervingly calm despite the tempest raging within me, I addressed him with chilling precision. “Elaric - I thought I made it abundantly clear that your presence wasn’t welcome here…” I sneered, my words carrying a weight of authority that brooked no argument.

His eyes widened with nervous apprehension. “I hadn’t seen you around lately…” he stammered, his feeble attempt at justification falling on deaf ears.

Glaring icily at him, I continued, my tone laced with thinly veiled menace. “Even so - you shouldn’t be here. You have ten seconds to vacate these premises before you lose that hand,” I declared, my voice a lethal whisper that echoed with the promise of consequences.

With a sense of urgency, he scrambled out of his chair, his bravado evaporating in the face of my unwavering resolve. “You’ll regret this,” he hissed, venom dripping from his words, but I merely laughed in response.

“My only regret is not doing this sooner,” I retorted, my gaze unwavering as I watched him slink towards the door, a defeated shadow of his former self.

Turning my attention to the shaken barmaid, I moved to check on her well-being, aware of the watchful eyes of the tavern's patrons upon me. Sensing the tension in the air, I prepared to address the onlookers, my frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

Before I could voice my reprimand, Mort stepped forward, his authoritative voice cutting through the silence like a clarion call. “Back to your drinks, folks. Just a little pre-celebration excitement from a local troublemaker - nothing for you to concern yourselves with. Enjoy a round on the house!” he declared, his words dispelling the tension with practiced ease.

There were a few grumbles, and then the tavern resumed its lively atmosphere, the incident fading into the background as patrons returned to their revelry, the memory of the altercation quickly overshadowed by the promise of free drinks.

I smiled gratefully at Mort, a wave of gratitude washing over me as he handed me a fresh beer. “Thanks,” I murmured sincerely, feeling supported by his gesture. His pat on the back, accompanied by a knowing smile, spoke volumes, affirming that justice had been served.

Making my way over to the shaken new girl, I approached her with gentle concern, noting the tremor in her hands as she struggled to compose herself. Kneeling beside her, I reached out, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with a comforting touch. “Are you alright?” I inquired softly, my voice laced with empathy.

She looked up at me with wide eyes, her fear palpable, and I offered her reassurance in the form of a supportive arm around her trembling shoulders. “I’m sure you’re frightened - come take a minute in the back to collect yourself,” I urged gently, guiding her towards the sanctuary of the back room, my own beer in hand. Settling in beside her, I engaged her in conversation, offering words of comfort and solidarity until she seemed more at ease.

Returning to the bar, I resumed my duties with renewed determination, serving drinks and indulging in more chugs of beer as I bantered with patrons, the memory of the altercation gradually fading into the background as the night progressed.

As jests and playful banter filled the air, some patrons teased me, their words carrying a hint of caution masked in humor. I responded in kind, playfully warning them of the consequences of crossing me, my tone light-hearted despite the underlying seriousness of the sentiment.

Refilling the knights' drinks, I found them divided - two engaged in rowdy revelry while the other three conversed in hushed tones. The big man, his drunken demeanor evident, spoke up with a teasing grin. “That was quite something…” he remarked, his words tinged with amusement.

I met his gaze, amusement twinkling in my eyes as the alcohol dulled my inhibitions. “I’ve been dying to stab that creep for years,” I quipped, a playful edge to my tone. “He’s lucky I didn’t drive the knife through his hand.”

His laughter filled the air, echoing with camaraderie, while the silver-haired man interjected with a hint of disapproval. “You should leave situations like that to those who are trained to deal with such riffraff,” he remarked coolly, his tone betraying his disdain.

Unfazed by his disapproval, I chuckled, the alcohol emboldening my response. “We don’t get many knights around these parts - are you suggesting I wait on the off chance one appears?” I countered with a playful smirk, my words carrying a sense of defiance tinged with amusement.

Before he could reply, the door burst open, and two men strode into the tavern, their fine clothing and Golden Dawn robes marking them as members of high standing. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I cursed inwardly, hoping against hope that they hadn't noticed my presence. Unfortunately, their sharp gazes locked onto me with unwavering intensity.

Summoning a hesitant smile, I braced myself for the impending confrontation as they approached.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the larger of the two men demanded, his tone laced with agitation. I glanced between him and the drink in my hand, then back to him.

“Drinking…” I muttered, my response dripping with sarcasm as if the answer were obvious.

He scowled at me, his disapproval palpable. “You’re supposed to be at home. Imagine our shock when we found your tutor, iced to the floor of the study,” he retorted pointedly, his frown deepening with each word.

A mischievous grin tugged at my lips as I shrugged nonchalantly. “A little ice never hurt anyone. I just wanted a drink before everything went to shit - care to join me, brother?” I quipped, my tone tinged with hopeful defiance.

His response was immediate and unequivocal. “No,” he stated flatly. “You’re coming home - someone could know you’re here.”

“How? I’ve been careful,” I protested defiantly, the flush of alcohol lending a boldness to my words.

His gaze bore into mine with an intensity that made my stomach churn. “We saw your mana from the road…” he informed me pointedly, the weight of his accusation landing with a crushing finality.

Oops. Busted.

As the gravity of the situation settled upon me, his attention shifted to the table where I had been serving drinks. Recognition flashed across his features, his eyes widening in realization. “Oh, Captain! I was not aware you’d be here…” he trailed off, his tone respectful as he addressed one of the men at the table.

My own eyes widened in surprise. Captain? Did that mean these were all captains…? The implications of their presence sent a shiver down my spine, the realization dawning on me that my impromptu escapade had far-reaching consequences beyond my wildest imagination.

“I apologize for my sister,” my brother addressed, his voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “She can be a bit of a handful…” His gaze remained fixed on me, assessing and scrutinizing.

“Did you start a fight?” My younger brother chimed in, his teasing tone accompanied by a playful poke to my cheek. I swatted his hand away with a smirk. “No. I was merely looking out for a fellow worker,” I replied cheekily, a hint of defiance in my words.

He scoffed in response. “You’re no worker. Quit playing peasant and come home. You’re drunk - father will be furious.”

“Father will get over it. Mort, however, needs my help,” I countered, my steps stumbling as the effects of the alcohol began to take hold.

With a roll of his eyes, my younger brother moved swiftly, effortlessly scooping me up and slinging me over his shoulder. “This scene is your fault, sister,” he remarked with a playful grin, his tone light-hearted despite the situation.

I struggled against his grasp, though I knew it was futile. Weakened by drink and outnumbered by my brothers, I resigned myself to defeat with a huff of frustration. “Bye, Mort,” I called out sadly as I was carried away, my voice tinged with regret.

Mort's laughter followed me as I was ushered out of the tavern. “Go easy on her, boys - she means well…” his voice trailed off, the warmth of his words offering a small comfort in the midst of my predicament.

#nozel silva #nozel x reader #black clover nozel #black clover #black clover reader insert #nozel silva x reader

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callmearcturus · 1 month

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oh my gd that would be INCREDIBLE- the character building alone would be Fantastic, but fitting ethan and benji into a world where mutants are a thing??? i want to se how they each navigate that social strata, how ethan might try to use his mutation to disguise himself more, and how benji relates to his mutation (does he know? is it coincidence? is he just the luckiest sombitch alive?). anyway im in neither of these fandoms but i have been adoring your writing and now yearn for this fic.

oh lmao punct gave me the thumbs up to share a bit of what if mission impossible/x-men fusion

we have been watching the good xmen movies and obvsly were like "okay what would the mutations of the IMF team be" if this were an AU where they were, like, International Mutant Force or something less stupid

(well nothing is as stupid as Impossible Mission Force so--)

anyway right away: Ethan is a telepath, but we're kind of obsessed with telepathy as a power but also a disability that has to be constantly managed and accounted for. so:

Ethan is not an omega-level mutant like Charles Xavier or Jean Grey, but he's pretty powerful. His telepathy is tangled up in the way he falls a little in love with everyone he meets and is categorically unwilling to accept collateral damage on a mission. He finds it astonishingly easy to let his mind drape gossamer connections to everyone in his vicinity and is buoyed by the feelings he picks up on.

On the flipside: he is absolute dogshit at untangling himself, and it takes much longer for him, like fighting against some innate nature of his mutation. One way this manifests is sleeping; if Ethan is alone and sleeps, his unconscious mind will just drape over everyone in the vicinity and he has to untangle that for a while when he wakes. One way of dealing with this: early on, he asks Luther if he can hitch a ride in Luther's mind as he sleeps, so his telepathy will octopus around Luther while he sleeps, and it's much easier to untangle that in the morning.

On the scale of What Is He Capable Of: Covertly skim through minds for specific information: max one or two people at a time if he wants to keep hidden. any more and he can't be sneaky about it. Converse with people telepathically: 4 to 8, any more and his coherence frays badly Broadcast to people around him (maybe to alert to danger): CANNOT do so subtly, has been pushing this over the years from 20ish to double that to even more, but as he pushes himself more and more, he's more likely to just pass tf out or get a nosebleed Range?: The longer he's connected to someone's mind, the further away they can be and still be in Ethan's reach. Luther could be on the other side of the world and if Ethan really focuses, he can transmit an image or emotion or 'hey i'm alive.' Nothing beyond that but still.

Speaking of Luther, his mutation is extremely high perception of electricity and sonic fields. This manifests in several ways:

Luther can tell when something is powering on, can feel devices and machines around him and has an affinity for them, able to read them via touch or from hearing them when power is moving.

As he gets older and more honed in his work, he can grip a cable and get a sense of where the data is going/coming from, tracing things. The data moving through the air is tangible to him. He's a beast against any and all security systems, able to just feel where motion sensors and cameras are.

I think maybe he can learn to hold and redirect energy over time. He's never going to have lightning powers, but I can imagine him placing a hand on a wall outlet and pushing and shorting out a specific device in the room with an overcharge. But primarily, his power is observational.

BOY it has downsides. Luther is constantly struggling with overstimulation, and because it's not exactly sound or light, it's energy he can ambiently detect, he struggles a lot with controlling it and avoiding getting overwhelmed. Once he and Ethan are buddies, Ethan tends to just hitchhike in Luther's mind. When they're off the clock, he'll filter out all the extra stimulus. When they're on a mission, Ethan helps Luther cut out the superfluous information and humming energy so he can narrow in on what he's working on.

Those people who have Smart Houses where every device is somehow connected to wifi, Luther hates them so much. Just SO much. The proliferation of Google Homes and Connect With Alexa shit is going to turn him into a terrorist someday.

okay so Benji. lmao. here's where shit gets wild.

the thing about Benji is he doesn't know he has a mutation until he's an adult and working in the IMF as support analyst and tech. sure there's been some odd moments in his life. when he was a kid, he was in a car crash and somehow wound up outside the car and fine. and once he was riding a bike through his village and accidentally went down a hill, but managed to land the bike instead of winding up in a crumpled pile of limbs at the bottom. but maybe he was got lucky!

then an actual threat happens at the IMF and a gun goes off at Benji, and the world slows to a crawl. he can just... step out of the way, and the bullet eases by him. turns out, Benji sets off-- okay. it's either a time dilation effect or its superspeed. both are functionally the same, and i think the effect is undetectable to other people so no one knows for sure. but it only happens when Benji perceives himself to be in a life-or-death instance.

he also can give it to people by touch. if Benji's panic switch goes off, he can grab another person and move them and they'll perceive the same dilation he does. the IMF is overjoyed because this is extremely exploitable, and Benji gets rushed into the field because if a mission goes tits up, just shoot at Agent Dunn and he can cheat time.

Eventually, Benji gets assigned to work with Ethan bc the handlers figure Ethan is a telepath, he can just reach into Benji's mind and give him a shock and make him think he's about to die. Isn't that so much nicer than just shooting at him? But Ethan is a fucking telepath and clearly sees the extreme stress all of this has put Benji through. He never sets off the panic switch and more often uses his telepathy to soothe Benji's nerves than anything. Like with Luther, Ethan rides-along in Benji's head a lot.

This throws a wrench into Rogue Nation obvsly because Ethan hears "the IMF has been absorbed by the CIA" and he does not wait 6 months to reach out to the guy who can fuck with time if you threaten his life. because of course the fucking CIA starts experimenting, seeing how they can reliably set the panic switch off. they come up with a device like an epi-pen that can be used to basically give Benji an almost-heart attack but then Ethan breaks Benji tf out of Langley's grasp and tows him across the globe bc no one else can be trusted not to traumatize the shit out of Benji.

As Benji gets older and more adept at his power, he discovers a side-effect of Ethan being tied to his mind more often than not; Benji starts 'going off' when Ethan is in peril. ETHAN IS NOT AMUSED BY THIS because he risks his life all the time and now Benji's going off because of that where it gets tres interesting is that Benji has spent so long talking telepathically, he knows how to direct a thought at Ethan to get his attention (as does everyone who works with Ethan more than a few times). and if he telepathically taps on Ethan, he can pull Ethan into the dilation, even if they aren't touching. it's kind of all Ethan's fault; he's the clingiest telepath ever, and having accumulated years of connection to Benji has just urged Benji's mutation to expand in that direction.

anyway that's that

WE ALSO HAVE BEEN DELIBERATING ILSA POWERS, mostly along the lines of mimicry

one of the ideas I super liked was Ilsa being a power-mimic but she doesn't luck into innate understanding of how a power works, so it's very dangerous for her to borrow someone's power. like, an example we were kicking around was Ilsa accidentally picking up on Ethan's power and, not understanding how his telepathy grabs ahold of people, she accidentally ties her mind and Ethan's together the moment she gets his power, and they're Stuck for a while because Ethan can't untangle her knot and she is figuring out how tf it even works. it's a nightmare.

another idea was the Rogue Powerset, touch-based connection with its own pitfalls. Ilsa able to subtly touch a human and glean some information from them, but she has very little control over what info she gets. and once she touches them, they black out a bit, losing about a minute of time, which is just long enough for her to get out of there. but if she bumps into a mutant, she gets their power for a while instead, and it's messy and awkward and well, she wears long sleeves and gloves a lot is what I'm saying.

and Punct liked how Ilsa might self-select into spycraft because she needs to learn all these skills to protect herself, so she follows the career path and just keeps her power very very quiet, only using it when it's too useful to avoid. or on accident. for instance: when she meets Ethan and Ethan hurls himself into the fight and she touches his skin, Ilsa gets the telepathy juice. while Ethan is dazed from the contact, Ilsa uses the telepathy to sneak him out the back tunnel, then makes the other Syndicate members trust her so her cover isn't blown.

we also came up with a VERY FUN ONE for Grace, which is matter teleportation. Grace cannot teleport herself, but she can move things around when she focuses on them. There's huge limits on this:

smaller items are easier than larger, lighter is easier than heavier.

she doesn't have to see the object to move it but she does need to know about it pretty thoroughly and have a strong idea of its shape and the space its taking up.

example: if you set a closed, empty box in front of grace and told her there's a snowglobe inside, she could try to retrieve it, but it won't work (obvsly, it's empty) and she won't know why and might keep trying to 'grab' the object.

this would make her and Ethan extremely potent, as he can get eyes on something and transmit the information Grace needs to her, and she can grab the object.

because of how her power works, Grace has fun skills about guessing the weight of things. toss her an object and she can probably tell you pretty accurately how heavy it is. this isn't a mutation; she is just hyperfocused on that sort of info because it assists her power.

ANYWAY I THINK THAT'S ALL

#Anonymous #mission impossible #benthan #my fic #(kinda not really)#i think grace's power is really fun tbh

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toointojoelmiller · 7 months

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Have you ever consumed so many devastating TLOU fics that you your heart was at risk of being permanently broken? Does the thought of Part 2 being filmed right now and our collective timeline inching closer to *that scene* airing on HBO with Pedro and Bella make your palms sweat? Same!

My prescription for you is to read today's spotlight stories and remember that, actually, we can stop torturing these two at any time we'd like. (Personally, I won't, but reading Joel and Ellie father-daughter fluff once in a while is good for general mental health.) I'm always reading and writing angst and @becomethesun's fics always feel like a breath of fresh air - and, of course, makes me even more heartbroken at all of the what-could-and-should-have-beens that TLOU I promised and TLOU II used to torment us. She is currently writing a Sam and Henry live AU (Collaborators) that is an answer to my prayers. The two stories linked here are favourites of mine:

true blue by @becomethesun 18,505 words || 5 chapters featuring: family fluff, Ellie adapting to life in jackson, good dad Joel Miller, Ellie gets to be a kid

me and my dog (and an impossible view) by @becomethesun 6055 words || one shot featuring: family fluff, good dad Joel Miller, Ellie gets a dog

from @march-flowerr: "If I had to pick one fic only to re read for the

rest of my life, becomethesun’s “true blue is (it feels good to be known so well)” would probably be it. I’m hard pressed to think of a story that I hold dearer than this - five chapters, short but flush with all the small details and nuances of life in Jackson that we don’t get to see in the game. “True Blue” offers such a sweet catharsis while still holding to canon. Becomethesun gives us these compact, bright glimpses into Ellie’s daily life in Jackson: we get to see her goofing off with Dina and Cat, learning to relax into her relationship with Joel, finding her footing in her new family and community. It paints such a tender and clear picture of Ellie as a girl - not Ellie, the ex Fedra cadet, or Ellie the cure - but Ellie as a kid, with friends and questions and ambition and insecurities and a love for her little world so big that it is breathtaking.

In “me and my dog (and an impossible view)”, we’re introduced to Strelka, Ellie’s dog. She finds her as a puppy in an abandoned book store and brings her home to Jackson. Strelka sees her through her through her first rough days of school, sick days and snow days. I don’t really think much more needs to be said about this fic to illustrate just why it’s so good - Ellie gets a cute little dog that makes her happy. What more do you want, people??"

Re-reading these fics feel like coming home. There’s a lyrical cadence to becomethesun's words that I am drawn continuously to. I love the feel of her fics: the syrupy sweet way the story wends itself through from beginning to end, the way that all these intense emotions and elements are whittled down into simple, intimate moments, like making paper crowns with a friend or curling up with your dog after a long day. The real beauty of these fics is the way that becomethesun has chosen to take the small things - the mundane, the day by day - and has chosen to let them shine. To remind us that amidst real horrors - and let’s be real, TLOU has a lot of those - there is still good to be had, that the little things that make up a life well lived - the things we take for granted - are the most important things. That even when it feels like your world is ending, you can still sit on a porch with your family and feel safe. That at the end of the hardest days, you can always come home."

If you read and love this, please please show the author some love and leave a kudos / comment!! Happy fandoming y'all.

Joel Miller isn't dead if we keep him alive y'all.

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thesmollestsnek · 1 year

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Today in the snek rambles about random fandom things, we have: Danny’s age! Specifically, how he ages long-term, seeing as he half-died at fourteen.

Now, a lot of the fics I see that age Danny up in some way have his human body aging, either normally or occasionally at a slower rate, and his ghost form naturally changing to mimic that. Almost as common are the fics where Danny’s human form ages while his ghost form stays at the age he died. And don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of fun to be had with both those options. I’ve seen some great fics playing with both those concepts.

…But yknow what I haven’t seen?

A fic where Danny’s ghost form is the one that ages, while his human form stays the same. Think about it, a ghost’s form is malleable, and doesn’t necessarily reflect what a person originally looked like so much as what they think they should be. This is almost alway the explanation given for Danny’s ghost form aging with him, when a fic writer decides to go that route. Ghost forms are malleable, it makes perfect sense for Danny’s Phantom form to be capable of aging, so long as Danny believes that it should be.

…but you wanna know what isn’t so malleable? A human body. And for all that Danny’s still alive, he’s also dead, and while the show seems to portray Danny and Phantom as two separate halves with little to no bleedover, fanon seems to prefer having the boundaries between death and life in one Danny Phantom be much blurrier. As do I. Danny is a human who is dead, just as Phantom is a ghost who is alive. Both and neither at the same time. And while living humans age, dead ones don’t.

So. When Danny walked into the portal, he died. And regardless of how you want to argue semantics of resurrection and was there a brief period of time when he was only dead and he was also alive when he left the portal, he did die and a part of him stayed dead. Meaning that, by some definitions, his human body can be considered a corpse. And corpses don’t age.

Just, imagine the potential angst there, of Danny realizing, a year or two or three after the accident that no, he’s not just a late bloomer. He’s just. Not. Aging. And never will again, at least as a human. How long did it take him to recognize that fact? …how long did it take for him to realize that he can never seamlessly blend into human society again? His Phantom form is obviously not human, and his human one will never make it past fourteen.

…But then, his ghost form is still aging, it never stopped even after he noticed that the two forms no longer look the same. Even after he accepts that Danny Fenton will never make it past fourteen. There’s a part of him that recognizes that he’s still alive and that he should be aging, so Phantom grows up even though Fenton never will.

Which, if you’re inclined to keep piling on the angst, can also serve to isolate him from ghost society. A being of change trying to fit into a community of people who will forever stay the same. Preserved exactly as they were at their time of death. Except for Danny. Who’s still the odd one out, even in death. A ghost who’s growing up and a human who’ll forever remain a child.

…

Orrrr if you’re not in the mood for soul-crushing angst, you can also use this concept for fun and hijinks. Age Danny up a couple decades, plop him into any world with other superheroes, and watch the identity shenanigans take over. I’m especially fond of this being done with the Justice League, because he’s basically a reverse Captain Marvel. Imagine, the League finds out that their adult coworker is actually a small child masquerading as a grownass man through the power of a magically aged-up superhero form and a lot of bullshit. They see that when Billy Batson is in his civilian/human form he returns to his actual age. And then they see phantom, another coworker who, when not in the form they use for heroics, physically turns into a child. And so they go “we got this, no further clarification needed.” (Spoiler alert: they do not, in fact, got this).

#did you know that the word ‘corpse’ can be used to describe both a dead body and a living one?#apparently corpse is one of those words that are their own antonyms #not really related to the main point of the post but I saw it while double checking my definitions and though huh. neat.#the snek rambles #headcanons #danny phantom #danny phantom headcanons #dpxdc #if anyone decides they wanna take this idea and run with it go right ahead I’d love to see it

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robin-the-enby · 7 months

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Hi! Can I get an angst/comfort fic of Arthur with a female s/o who is depressed and suicidal? Like he walks in on his s/o c*tting while having a mental breakdown? Or he just notices the cuts/scars? Or he walks in on his s/o bl33ding out?? Idk you can get creative with it I’ve just been having an extremely rough couple months. If this makes you uncomfortable then you can just ignore this request, but thanks anyways! I hope you have a great day/night!! <3

It's my problem if I feel the need to hide

Pairing: Arthur x f!reader

Summary: You feel under the weather, but decide not to tell anyone. As your condition only worsens, your friends start to worry about you. It's when you decide to let everything go your knight with blue eyes and a cheeky smile comes to the rescue.

Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, not being able to care for oneself (containing lack of hygiene and proper meals), mentions of vomit(ing) (3), negative self talk, dark thoughts

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay of this fic, I hope it will be of use to you still. I haven't written for this fandom in a long while, so getting back to it was a little hard, though I enjoyed it none the less. I tried not to use any (Y/N)s and make it as racially neutral as possible, as well as appearance-neutral (Arthur carries reader 1 time, but he's stronger than a regular human, and y'all deserve it ladies, no matter your size). If anyone wants to talk about anything at all, my dms are open, as well as my ask box. Take care of yourselves and stay safe!

The human mind is possibly nature's greatest invention. The complexity with which all its components interact to keep the body functioning is nothing short of phenomenal. And not only that, but it is aware of itself, encasing its own conscience inside a safe vessel, built and evolved specifically to protect it. And as time progressed, and all the basic needs of the body were cared for, there came a need to create. The body could easily be fed, but the conscience needed a different type of sustenance.

The human mind is capable of incredible things. It can set goals for itself as well as achieve them. It shaped the entire world to its liking, for better or for worse. The human mind is the reason why we live the lives we do today. It is the thing that keeps us alive and sane.

It's funny how drastically that can change.

If you'd ask any of the men residing in the mansion on who the worst enemy of humans is, you're sure all of them would at least mention the human conscience, if not directly choose it. After all, their lives have been woven through with the thread of sorrow, the perpetrator being none other than the human mind- theirs or someone else's.

At this point, you feel like you've at least got a peek at the complex inner worlds of history's greatest minds. Some you knew better than others, but you've been le Comte's servant for long enough to consider all the mansion's residents at least friends.

It was evident to anyone who has been in the mansion for at least a month that all of the people (and vampires) residing in it had some sort of baggage, wearing them down even in their second undead life. Some were better at hiding it than others, some just felt more comfortable keeping their troubles to themselves, while others' emotions and traumas were sometimes too great, too overwhelming to be kept locked inside their bodies.

You've tried your best to help those who needed it, both physically and mentally. It helped a few to open up to you at least a little and as time went on, with your hard work, you've earned respect for yourself even amongst the toughest nuts in the mansion. Poking through others' personal affairs and traumas carried along numerous fights as well as apologies and in the end just served to strengthen the bond between you and the residents. And yet, at times like these...you couldn' help but feel alone.

Like all the others, you had to shoulder the burden of traumas, insecurities and unpleasant experiences collected unwillingly throughout your life. You suspected the others knew of this, or at least had a hunch that you, like all of them, haven't had the pleasure of living a carefree life.

They saw you as an independent, strong and courageous woman, resilient and kind in any situation. And if you were in the right state of mind, you would agree. But lately, you began to doubt these traits of yours, the ones you valued so much and were valued for.

You weren't a stranger to struggling and you knew that anyone in need of help deserved to receive it and should not be scared to ask for it.

So why did the thought of asking for help make your stomach churn?

You've been pondering that question for a few days now. Lately, your entire reality seemed to have shifted. At first, you didn't think anything was wrong, a simple bad day, or a bad week wasn't anything to be too worried about. Nothing a nice, relaxing weekend couldn't fix, right? And yet, when you had tasks to complete, you felt agitated and annoyed, but when you had nothing to do, you were antsy and restless. Always feeling like something should be happening, like you should be doing something. For some reason, you couldn't make yourself to do the things you felt you should be doing.

Soon everything has become a bother. Tasks you could usually do with one hand were suddenly so hard that by the end of the day, the thought of bathing or changing into clean clothes made you want to scream until your throat was sore. And so you chipped away at your routine that you so painstainkingly built when you appeared in this time, until the only remaining activities in your days were your work and some basic necessities.

You knew it was getting bad. And it constantly created an almost numbing whirlwind of emotions you really didn't need right now. Why was this happening? What brought it on? Why now?? Is it going to get worse? All these questions and none you had an answer to. You had guesses and various techniques you learnt here and there back in your time, but...you couldn't bring yourself to do anything.

You were trapped. At least it felt like it. Trapped inside yourself, inside your mind. You knew you should tell someone, that if you let it go on, it would sooner or later consume you. But you couldn't do anything. It was as if your body didn't listen to you.

It seemed the residents were starting to get suspicious of your strange mood as of late. There were times when one of them would approach you and carefully ask about your wellbeing, and as much as you wanted to say something, you never did. You logically knew that the first step would be the one to break through the loop, the one that would make all the others just a little bit easier until you felt normal again. But anytime you tried to break through the selfdestructive habits you had fallen into, a wave of such tirednes, nausea and shame overcame you, that you simply caved to your mind's twisted whispers.

You concluded that your best option at this moment was to lay low and let it pass. Your days have become a steady routine of wake up, work, go to bed. And repeat. It was manageable, at first, even with the onslaught of thoughts your mind was conjuring, managing to come up with more and more ways to taunt you with. But as days and then weeks passed, your energy slowly seeped away from your body and it retaliated by shutting off and out anything unnecessary to save as much of what was remaining.

These things included mostly socialising. You became less talkative, while you would usually enthusiastically engage in conversations, if not outright start them, lately you would not speak unles directly spoken to. It has taken a toll on your concentration as well. Many times when someone would try to strike up a conversation with you, they'd have to repeat their question or even call out your name mid-conversation, because mentally you just weren't there. These things not only started to worry Sebastian, your biggest constant in your new life, given that you worked alongside him every day, but also the other residents. You knew of this, as out of it as you might have seemed and/or have been these past few weeks, you knew that they noticed, because you knew them. But what started as a simple snowball had alrady turned into an avalanche and you had to admit that you were no longer in control.

Not that you really cared. You knew you should care, should be trying harder than ever to break out of this spell, but you couldn't. And every time you might have felt strong enough to confess how you were feeling, to lean on someone, to get the help you knew you needed, a sudden pang of fear pierced your chest and you shrivelled back, back into your own small shell that was your skull.

Trying to find a reason for this foolish anxiety proved not so easy, when your mind would make up about five reasons why you should keep your mouth shut every time you even dared to ask yourself such a question.

What if they didn't believe you?

What if it wasn't not that bad?

What if you were just making it up? Making it seem bigger than it is?

These people have gone through so much. They've seen war, witnessed and felt abuse and probably had been through things you couldn't even imagine. Why should they help you, when they're the ones who needed help?

You were not worthy.

Such comparisons were something you chastised anyone who would confess experiencing them for. And yet, when it came to you, it felt like a holy truth. Something that could not and should not be questioned. Because you don't want to be selfish, do you?

You've dealt with this by yourself before, surely you could do it again and not drag down others with you. These and many others became your daily mantras. Lay low, hide, be small, don't make a noise. Survive. But was that really how you wanted to live? If you could even call that a living. You were surviving, yes, but at what cost? For a promise of a period of time where you wouldn't feel like the world is made out of cardboard? A period of time where you wouldn't feel like screaming and crying every second of every day? And how long would that last? A few months, a year maybe? Was it really worth the struggle?

You blinked yourself out of your thoughts when someone vigorously snapped in front of your eyes. Looking around in slight daze, your eyes fall upon a smiling face. "There you are! Theo says he's just waiting for you to walk face first into a wall!" Arthur says cheerily, showing you his signature smirk. "I, like the good friend I am, keep defending you of course. But it's hard when your mind seems to get further and further away from us every day. At this rate, you'll wander off into Seine soon. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" he playfully jabbed at you.

You could feel yourself shaking your head, but the only thing you could focus on was how nice it acually seemed, the cold water seeping through clothes and circling your limbs, the undercurrents keeping you down, where nothing could get you, laying you down onto the riverbed, weighed by the water in your lungs... "So, what's going on in that noggin of yours, hm?"

Arthur was, besides Sebastian, the closest person to you out of all the others. You enjoyed his easygoing demeanor and his jokes never failed to make you laugh. He was a terrible flirt though, and someties could be pretty pushy with his advances as you've realised over the time you two spent together. Luckilly, after a firm conversation backed up by Theo, he had calmed down significantly towards you. The writer still heavily complimented you, always putting that silver tongue of his to use, but you thought nothing of it. He was like that with everyone, even some of the other residents, so the possibility of it ever meaning anything more than banter or a simple compliment never even crossed your mind.

"You're doing it again." the man in question sighed. You blinked at him with confusion. As if reading your thoughts, Arthur clarified "You're in your head again. It must be something really interesting in there to make you so distracted." he joked again, but his expression turned serious "But honestly, what's going on? You haven't been yourself for quite a while now and everyone's getting worried. Even Wolf asked me if I knew what was up with you the other day!" the writer looked at you intently "You know that we're here for you, right? Even if you feel like it's stupid, if you need anything, you can tell us."

You averted your eyes from Arthur' piercing gaze. You knew his words were sincere and it made your chest squeeze uncomfortably. Looking straight ahead, in the direction which you were going, you answered, trying to make your voice as leveled as you could "Thank you for worrying Arthur, but I'm alright, really. I've been thinking of asking le Comte for a break. It would be nice to have some off time." This wasn't a complete lie, since having some down time, where you could pretend time has stopped really did sound appealing, but now you'd have to actually go and ask the good count, which you really didn't want to. Not because you were worried you wouldn't be given a break, but because it was another plan to be made and you barely had enough energy to last you until the end of the day, much less go somewhere out of your own volition.

Arthur knew that you were lying, or at least not telling him everything, so he grinned at you again and spoke confidently "Alright, love, the game is on! I gave you a chance to explain youself, but it seems I'll have to solve this mystery myself." he winked at you and you expected him to take his leave. But Arthur softly grabbed your arm and stopped you in the middle of the halway you were in. Turning to face him in his hold you looked at him questioningly. His smile is much softer now, and if you could focus properly, you would see worry glinting in his eyes "If you ever change your mind, you can stop by. Day, night, doen't matter. We're here for you, love. I'm here for you. Just as much as you're here for us." and as soon as he finished speakig, he was gone. Down the hallway, in the direction of his room. You quietly turned around, trying to process the strange encounter while you went your way.

Your mind was surprisingly quiet for a few hours after that.

You eventually did end up in le Comte's study. Nerves were wracking your body and mind the entire day and when you finally did enter the dreaded room, after all your chores were done for the day, you felt like you would start crying at any moment. For some reason, you felt awful for doing this. You didn't need the break. You didn't need off time to get better physically or because you had too many chores. Why did you want a break, besides Arthur catching on that there was, indeed, something wrong? The only thing you had planned for this break of yours was rotting away in your bed and doing as little as humanely possible. Maybe fate would be so kind and take you away in your sleep. Let you wither away like an overwatered flower.

You tried to make the discussion as quick as possible. Fortunately, the count didn't ask too many questions about your wellbeing and the reason for taking a break, remembering well that you haven't had one in a good while. He did ask if you consulted Sebas about it and you forced down a shudder at the mention of your good friend's name. Not because the butler was opposed to you taking a break, he actually kindly insisted you take one, revealing that he also noticed your mental absence in the past weeks, which could be almost counted as a month now. The worry and confusion in his tone as well as his expression made you wish he told you to stay, to help him, anything to try and convince you to not do what you were about to.

Why were you so worried? There wasn't a reason you should feel bad about taking a break. Even if you physically were just as spry as a grasshopper, taking a break for the sake of mental health was just as important. But deep down, you coudn't lie to yourself. Deep down you knew you were going to give up completely. Either for someone to find you, or to be left to rot. And right now, you hoped for the latter, even if it was still scary to admit.

After Comte gave you a week off, asking if it was enough time for you, which you hastily confirmed, feeling bile rise up your throat and wishing for the comfines of your room, your shaky legs and hazy mind managed to carry you to your room. After spending some time emptying the contents of your stomach, which were absolutely too small you would bet, you nothing but collapsed onto your bed. Mouth unrinsed, hair oily and ruffled, it had finally dawned on you how much of a mess you must have loked like. This realisation finally seemed to open the dam that was holding back everything you were feeling. The disgust, the shame, the fear, the anxiety the heavines, the loneliness, but most importnatly the longing.

Fast, salty tears carried all of that out of your body, leaving your face a puffy, sticky mess. Suddenly, you felt rage boil inside of your chest, sprading quickly to your head. Why didn't you say anything? You were so worried and because of what? Your own mind? Could you be any more stupid? The very same mind that put you through absolute hell this past month was now angry at itself, at its own actions. Why did the world have to be this cruel? Why couldn't it grant you the simple request of a mind that would not try to sabotage itself? And now it was too late.

Yo chose this, you thought to yourself. You chose this and these were the consequences of your actions. As if the tears have released all your pent up frustration in your body, all that it left was numbness. A kind of numbness that made your eyelids heavy, making them gravitate towards each other and pulling you into a deep, calm slumber. The kind of slumber you have not been able to achieve for more than the month you've been actively suffering. But also the kind of slumber that would not bring you closer to salvation.

You woke up, not knowing the time and not really finding yourself caring either. You felt strangely...calm. There was no hunger, no thirst, nothing. Only suffocating quiet, the likes of which you would feel in the deep blue of the ocean. You laid stil for what felt like hours, but could have also been minutes, before you succumbed to unconsciousness again.

This has gone on for a few days of your week long break. At one point you felt the pang of hunger, yet you had no will to satiate it. You only rose from your bed late into the night, when the squeezing walls of your stomach, at this point surely eating itself, threatened to spill nothing but its own acid. You tiptoed as quietly as your stiff muscles could into the kitchen, and after munching on some bread and water, because even though you got up, you still didn't feel like cooking, or that you deserved anything more than the simplest of dishes, you quietly stalked the halls back into your room. You fell asleep again, your stomach satisfied, or maybe convinced into satisfaction by your mind, the last thing you heard was the faint sound of Mozart's piano in the dead of the night.

This cycle had repeated for another few days. Your days were interrupted by quiet knocking that would wake you from your slow decline, and sometimes joined by murmurs behind the door. You couldn't find it in you to care. The door wasn't locked. At one point, you could swear you saw a shadow in your window, but it was gone too soon for your slowed mind to focus on it.

One morning, somewhere at the end of your break, not that you were keeping track of time, your door opened. A gust of fresh air was the first thing that barged its way into your room, chasing out the old and musty, albeit warm air from it. You shivered and wiggled deeper under your covers, grumbling hoarsely in protest. Your half asleep mind registered someone slowly walking into your room, as if they were scared to find out what was in it. You kept your eyes closed.

Arthur knelt down beside your bed, looking at your sickly, worn out face. Carefully sneaking his arm under your blanket, his hand searched for yours until it could take it into its own. Caressing your knuckles with his thumb, he cooed softly "Oh, love. I am so sorry. I am so sorry we let this get so far." You didn't respond. What was there to say? "It isn't your fault" you croaked out quietly, not having enough energy to say it loudly and fearing your voice wouldn't work.

"Why did you hide from us? We would've helped..." the writer almost whined, and you could feel the guilt and worry radiating from him. You wanted so desperately to answer, to give him a good reason for how foolish you were acting, but you couldn't. There was nothing that would excuse you. Nothing.

Seeing your slightly open eyes well up with tears, Arthur rushed closer to comfort you. Shushing and soothing you like a small child after a booster shot, he held you close and you tried not to weep hader. "It's alright, love, everything is alright. I've got you. I've got you now, it's good. You're alright."

After you calmed down slightly, you wanted nothing more than to shoo him away, close yourself off again an bury yourself into your bed to get away from the immense shame you felt. But Arthur seemed to be having none of that. He softly but insistently reached under you and helped you sit up with one arm, holding your hand with the other still. you couldn't bring yourslf to look him in the eye and yet his tone never changed from the soft lull he comforted you with. "Come on now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up."

Your mind wanted desperately to push back at him, scream and yell and fight, but you almost limply let him straighten you up and help you walk over to the bathroom. The writer's heart nearly broke in two as he saw you in the same clothes you were in when he last spoke to you. The image of you suffering in silence for so long made him nearly tear up as well, but he held himself back, focusing on you being his biggest priority.

He ran a bath for you, helped you out of your clothes, his gaze never cascading from your face, looking for any signs of overstepping any boundaries and when he found none, he helped you into the bathtub, first washing your hair and then your body, asking if you could and wanted to handle your private parts yourself. You whispered out a small yes, feeling somewhat ashamed still and wanting to make his efforts a bit easier. Letting you soak in the blissfully warm water, a question appeared in your mind "Arthur..." you called out quietly "Were you the one knocking at my door?" you asked timidly, not knowing fully if it wasn't some kind of delirium your mind put you through. The writer's face became solemn as you took a peek at his face and he spoke, his words and tone equally heavy "Everyone did. We were worried about you. After we heard about your break, we thought it might do you well. Everyone noticed that you weren't quite yourself. But after the first few days, when no one ever saw you leave the mansion, let alone your room, our worries doubled. Wolf said he noticed you walking to the kitchen at night, but Sebas only noticed small portions of bread disappearing from the kitchen, so we wanted to check up on you. We tried knocking at your door, not wanting to disturb you if you really were physically ill, but that didn't do anything." "And the window?" you interrupted him, casting your eyes downward again at the rude gesture. But Arthur continued, with no offense taken "That was Dazai. He was checking up on you a lot. In his own way." Arthur smiled sadly "Today, I had enough. Something was telling me you needed help. And I'm glad I listened to my instinct." he smiled at you and you felt your dry lips lift up ever so slightly. You were found when you needed it the most, it seemed.

After Arthur dried you off and helped you put on fresh clothes, he told you Sebas made a nutritious meal for you that wouldn't upset your stomach. He also suggested it would do you good to get out of your room for at least a little while and eat it in the kitchen. Seeing the panic in your eyes, he rushed to assure you "You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to." And so you nodded.

The mansion seemed awfully quiet. There was no one in the halls, no sounds from either corner of the building. On your slow trek to the kitchen, you passed Mozart. The musician didn't say anything, but his lips melted from their usual stern frown to a warm smile and you couldn't help but to start crying again. Athur sat down with you on the cold ground of the hallway, pulling you onto his lap and rocking you back and forth until you felt good enough to walk again. Mozart was nowhere in sight.

You found out that Sebas made you a delicious soup, one with enough vegetables and some meat, the broth strong enough to get you up on your feet in no time. You ate slowly and savoured every spoonful. You suddenly realised how much you've missed eating good food. After your meal was done and Arthur washed your bowl and spoon in silence, he slowly sat down next to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, knowing that you were nowhere near out of the deep end yet, but desperately hoping his efforts weren't for naught. "Better. Fuller." you answered simply. After another beat of comfortable silence, where you soaked up the sun pouring in through the windows, the writer asked again "Would you like to go back to your room?" You pursed your lips. Suddenly, the idea of your bed and the stuffy room you hid yourself away in sounded horrible. But he comfortable, fluffy clothes and full stomach were pullig at your eyelids again, sleep threatening to take over. "My room it is, then?"

Arthur piped up and you nodded. Before you knew it, you were scooped up bridal style by the vampire, feeling his soft lips on your hairline "Rest, love. I've got you." Soon, you were in a room that smelled of coffe and cologne with a hint of ink. Once again, you wriggled under the covers, these ones feeling much fresher than yours, as you succumbed to sleep once again. But this time, you weren't alone.

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