#but what it means for you will always be yours and i cannot explain that for you! i am too close to the poem to see what it means for you

[peachy-writings]

PARADOX | Viktor AU

Summary: Reader receives the shock of their life when Viktor essentially materializes into their world, forever altering their version of reality as he tries to get back to his own.

Content Tags: Gender neutral reader with They/Them pronouns (no use of Y/N), Kinda follows S2 Pt. 2 canon, Angsty, Vi and Jayce deceased in this universe, Strangers to Friends?

Note: May become a series, or at least a 2-parter if people like it!

Masterlist

Sulfur.

That tang has always sprinkled pockets of air in the Undercity, to the extent that those dwelling within barely take notice anymore. Therefore, when you do, it takes you by surprise. You glance around the room, troubled. Had the ventilation system halted? Or worse—had Piltover’s best decided to poison your already polluted oxygen with sewage, or something similarly offensive? And then a sharp, metallic singe punches you square in the nose. So sudden that your eyes squash shut, overwhelmed.

After taking a moment to reorient, you are shocked by the sight of a man scorched onto the coarse floorboards of your shabby homestead. Like a meteor had cannoned through the building, but a cursory glance upward reveals no such destruction.

Even more curious is the man’s appearance; he is a sinewy splat, draped in a white robe, crumpled on his side and perfectly pristine. Despite the edges of his garment and the surrounding space having been kissed with char. Mahogany tresses cover most of his pale face, shifting over sharp peaks as he stirs to consciousness. All the while, you are struck statuesque with bewilderment and a whisper of utter captivation.

How?

Who?

Why?

The stranger groans, a hand coming up to soothe his head that must be pounding from such a sudden entrance. Amber eyes blink open slowly into a squint. Confusion, then some kind of realization has his eyes widening when they meet your own. Your expression must match his as the two of you scrutinize one another, a pregnant pause scribbling the walls of your mind with even more questions that you cannot fathom one single answer to.

“Tell me…” He breaks the silence with an accent that tells you he is a Zaunite, in spite of such an odd appearance for this origin. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” you reply softly, cautiously. And then your walls come up, as though your subconscious punches an internal panic button. No matter how otherworldly this materialization has been, this is still a stranger. “You better explain whatever the hell this is before I manually eject you from my home.”

A nimble hand reaches for the nearest weapon: a knife you’d left out on the counter to be washed. In his direct line of sight, you hold the flat of the blade against your thigh, posed to get rid of any threat quickly and efficiently.

“There is no need for that.” He says your name. Your real, given name. You almost don’t react since it’s been eons since the last time you’ve heard it said aloud. That hand at your side clenches the hilt of the blade—Not in anger, but petrification. “You don’t seem to know me in this timeline. I promise I am not here to hurt you, but to ask for your help. You are the only person I can trust.”

“How do you know my name, and what do you mean by in this timeline?” You take a step backward, bumping into the counter and jolting when the rough surface meets your clammy skin.

“I will answer all of your questions, but first,” he clears his throat. “May I have some water?”

Viktor is the name of your unexpected guest. This is the first thing you learn about him, after he drains two full glasses of water. The second piece of information you glean is that he is a scientist from another version of your world. A version in which you knew one another. In fact, the two of you were co-creators of a scientific breakthrough in his world with Jayce, another man you don’t know. Supposedly, this creation led him to end up here, on the other side of your dining table, looking as if he has been through hell and back.

While it is an interesting anecdote, you still do not trust that he isn’t someone sent by the heathens that haunt your past. How can you even believe something so utterly improbable? Does this man take you as a fool?

“If you are who you say you are, from where you say you’re from, how can I know that? How can I know what your intentions are? That little magic trick was impressive, but if you’re a minion of my father’s, I will find you out and you won’t be leaving in one piece.” You begin in an even tone, but work yourself up to a growl by the time the last words rattle from your mouth.

A small smile quirks the left side of his mouth upward. Fed up, you plant the tip of your knife into the table in the blink of an eye. “Your time is up.”

“Wait! I can prove it,” Viktor sputters, shock widening those gemlike eyes. “You cannot stand the way looking into deep water makes you feel. You have a need to protect those weaker than you, especially if they are children. And one of your dreams is to be able to ride in one of those fancy carriages the wealthy do, no matter how much you despise them.”

Your stomach churns, nauseous from the fact that all he said is true, even the truths that solely live in the back of your mind, never voiced to another soul. He explained himself perfectly— The how, the why, and the who— but you have great trouble comprehending that what he says could be— No, it is true. It has to be, right?

Is he attempting to disarm you so that he can kill you? No. The man could barely stand and make his way across the room to his chair. He is weak. He is begging you for help. And worst of all, he knows another you. That fact makes you feel as though you stand in front of him exposed. He has all of the power, even though you could take him out in seconds.

“What are your intentions?” You finally ask after a good few minutes trapped in lip nibbling thought.

“I am determined to get back to my world, with your help of course.” His tone is so annoyingly matter-of-fact, it brings out some of the bitterness you’ve been attempting to wrangle since he first said your name.

“And how am I supposed to help you? Clearly I’m no big scientist in this world!” Frustration is the way you naturally cope with all of this.

“That is fine, but you still harbor a love for inventing, do you not? Over there.” He points to a shelving unit on the other side of your living space. “That was your favorite creation: A simple device perhaps, but it works as a security system for the community, to warn children and the weak of impending danger. Your city would be left vulnerable without your work.”

That crude little contraption is, in fact, your proudest work. A vaguely cat-like creature that joins two wires when provoked, to make a noise the whole town can hear. To give the people enough of a warning to protect what they hold dear… If only there was someone in your hometown that had such a thought. Maybe you would have ended up in Piltover with your version of Viktor. Maybe things would have been different.

A deal is finally struck after hours of slow conversation. The two of you sit at that table until you can hear his stomach growl, and his expression screams exhaustion. Over a meal you almost burn in your distracted state, you agree to try to help him. But in exchange, he must answer all of your questions about the other version of yourself.

He agrees, of course, but not without a warning that some things are better left unknown. That flying too high does, in fact, come with grave consequences. You can only imagine the horrors those tired eyes have seen. A man beyond his years, steeped in tragedy, from a world that seems a whole lot better than yours. How so? You must know, even if it destroys you.

First thing on the agenda is to get Viktor equipped with a cane or crutch and some regular clothes. You learn of his disability and the impact growing up in the lower levels of Zaun has taken on his overall health. As he tells you more about his life, you wonder if the two of you could have been friends if you’d bumped into each other organically. Even though he has an irritating air of knowing what you do not, something about the way he looks at you makes you feel… odd. You mull this over as you browse the town market for the items on your shopping list.

Kids run between peoples legs, causing a man to fall on his ass and yell after them. They laugh and sprint faster with reckless abandon. A woman with a large basket of goods spins gracefully to save herself from the same fate, giggling as she adjusts her grip. The smells of the street food and perfumes and the people fill you with a sense of pride in your environment. A moment of peace amongst the absolute shitstorm that awaits you back home.

Last night, you were unable to get much rest with a virtual stranger on your couch. The lack of sleep as well as all that you’ve gleaned from the sudden appearance of Viktor has left you pensive. Your hand skates over the fabric of a plain shirt and you wonder what he usually wears, how he would look in something more familiar to you. It isn’t lost on you that this man is attractive, and his attentive attitude toward you leaves room to wonder just how close he was to the other you. You could see yourself falling for him, maybe in a different life. A fleeting thought that causes you to chuckle under your breath. There is no time for such thoughts, never has been.

A slightly banged up, but still fine-looking, cane catches your eye and you immediately inquire about it. It would cost nearly the rest of the coins in your pouch, the money you need to use for food. You stand dumbly in front of the grizzly man that runs the small shop off the top of beaten up tables, a hand on your chin as you go over your options. All the while, the man in front of you looks unamused at your indecision.

As he goes to spew some most likely unkind commentary, you hear a familiar voice bellow from behind you. “What’cha doing at the market? I never see you here.”

“Powder!” You chirp in surprise as your blue haired friend rounds you, peering curiously at the cane sat atop the table.

“What the hell do you need this for?” She considers the object, not paying any mind to the vendor as she holds it in front of one eye, mimicking peering through a telescope. “Some kind of sex thing, huh? Always knew you were a bit…” She makes an inappropriate gesture that shocks you into temporary silence.

“Whatever,” you disregard, gently prizing the item from her sly hands. You sigh as you roll it up and down your palms. There is no doubt it was made well, with consideration for anyone who may need it. “I was just trying to decide if it was worth the coins.”

“Ah, I see. Old man Harry’s marking up his goods again?” One pointed look from her has the aforementioned scrambling to explain himself, but she interrupts him. “How much did you get this for?”

“Well, you see, I- I didn’t buy it, so much as acquire it,” he splutters.

Powder hums. “And so you’re gonna make our people pay out the ass for some stolen goods?” She shakes her head, scolding him with a simple motion.

“Fine, I’ll lower the price.“ He chuckles nervously. “And tell Vander I say ‘Hi’.”

“With pleasure!” Powder remarks, her infectious smile beaming at him as she drops a small fraction of your coins into his open palm.

The two of you swiftly exit the area with all of your items stuffed into a rough, burlap pouch. The cane hangs safely from the strap, rhythmically thudding against your leg as you rush forward. Powder is hot on your heels, no matter how hard you try to lose her on the way home. She is relentless as always, too inquisitive for your own good.

Shit, she can’t see Viktor, you think. But there is no stopping her once a seed is planted in her head.

“You gotta tell me what all this is for, c’monnnnn,” she whines as you arrive at your doorstep.

“I’ll talk to you later, I just have a lot to do and it’s all so boring, you should just—“

With no consideration for your privacy, your friend bursts into the front door. Viktor is in plain view of the doorway, sitting on your grungy couch with a book poised in one hand. His eyes widen at the sudden invasion, taking in your embarrassment and then focusing solely on Powder.

“Ha! I knew it was a sex thing,” she exclaims, all the while you attempt to push her out of the door, talking over her in an attempt to distract from her brash exclamation.

“You.” Viktor’s voice is barely audible, but the iciness to it causes pause for both you and Powder. He scrambles for something, eventually landing on a glass vase that he holds as if to defend himself.

As you look between the two, it clicks that something must have happened between them in Viktor’s original world. Now is not the time for theorizing though. The energy in the room is building and you must get Powder out of here. A protective feeling overpowers you as Viktor glares at the girl.

“Jinx,” he spits at her, then he turns to you. “Why did you bring her here?”

“Whoa, okay. Chill out. What the hell did I do?” Powder’s hands fall onto her hips and her bottom lip pokes out in a provoking manner.

“She’s dangerous, get her away from me!”

“Wow, your boyfriend’s being rude—“

“He’s just a friend,” you grit out, nearly seething now. A harsh inhale through your nose. “Listen, Powder, I need you to leave. I’ll explain later, but things are complicated and I need some time. Please understand.”

She is silent for a moment before scoffing and quickly leaving, slamming the door behind her. A frustrated groan escapes you and your knuckles kiss the rough wall paneling.

Your gaze lands on Viktor. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” You throw the bag of clothes and the cane at his feet. The things you’d spent your hard earned coin on. “She’s not dangerous, she’s a nice fucking girl.”

“That girl is a terrorist in my world, responsible for countless deaths. Jinx—“

“Stop calling her that!” You scream, every muscle within you coiling up with rage. “She is the sweetest person I know. Do you know how much she’s gone through? How many times I’ve had to pick her back up after the guilt of her sister’s death nearly destroyed her?!”

You rant on about that day, about how early on Powder learned the value of life and kindness. When their little group showed up at The Last Drop without Vi, three kids in tears, all covered in soot, you made a promise to yourself and Vi that you would take care of her little sister. Claggor and Mylo were never remotely attentive to her, Vander and Silvio had their own things going on, and Ekko was just a child himself. It had to be you.

“… Violet. She is dead?”

Another sharp look from you wounds Viktor as you snap, “How do you know Vi?”

Viktor runs a hand over his face, appearing even more exhausted than you know him to look. “Things are so different here,” he whispers to the floorboards beneath his feet.

Heavy breaths turn calm as you watch him, clearly having a hard time adapting to this place. You can acknowledge that this must be like a weird dream to him. Hell, if you were in his place, in a timeline different than yours, you would most likely lose your mind. Two long breaths.

In.

And out.

“Listen. This is a whole lot to take in, for the both of us, but I think laying out a few ground rules and giving each other the benefit of the doubt would be very good for us. If we intend to get along and get you home.”

“Home.” Viktor nods slowly. “I think you are right.”

“Anyway,” you nudge the bag you tossed at him earlier with the toe of your boot. “I got you these.”

He notices the cane and gains the first genuine smile you’ve seen out of him, mumbling something about feeling like himself again. Quietly, you observe as he tests it out, getting used to its assistance after a few steps and then giving the object a little nod of approval.

He looks over to you with an unearned softness that irks you just a bit. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. Just some things to help you blend in and get around,” you brush off, scooping the bag up and handing it to him. “Get changed. We have a lot to do.”

When Viktor returns from getting freshened up, you find yourself taken aback. Replacing the man with scraggly tresses and a tattered robe, is a completely new person. He has tied up the top half of his shoulder length hair, and you notice the blond underlayer for the first time. The look softens his striking features, and accompanied by the casual style of clothing you picked out—a long sleeved yellow shirt tucked into some straight legged brown slacks—it looks as though he will fit in quite well now.

“Lookin’ good,” you comment offhandedly, looking him over and mentally patting yourself on the back.

You catch a faint redness painting his cheeks before he turns away from you, fiddling with the cane. An oddly nervous innervation wraps around him for a moment, and you choose to ignore whatever is going on with him. There is a mission you must complete. The sooner you finish it, the sooner you will be rid of this man.

“So, how do we get you back?”

What a simple question for something so complicated that it may nearly be impossible.

“We will have to go to Piltover and talk to Jayce. He is a friend, one of the only people who will understand this situation and be able to help us,” Viktor supplies after clearing his throat.

Simple enough. Although you hate going up there, you follow his lead, creating a plan and mapping out where exactly this Jayce guy lives so you can get in without raising too much suspicion. A quick meal, some supplies from a couple trusted merchants, and you’re off.

Viktor and you begin the journey through the undercity, to the elevator that will spit you out on the opposite side of the river from Piltover. It is silent from the moment you exit your place, until Viktor dares to cut the odd atmosphere.

“I may sound crazy, but I missed walking through these streets,” he muses offhandedly, eyes taking in every little detail on your path through Zaun’s city streets. As amusing as this is to watch, it is dangerous nonetheless.

“Don’t act like a tourist, unless you’d enjoy getting your ass kicked. Or worse.”

Almost as if on cue, the two of you round a corner and nearly bump into somebody. You are initially ready to square up, but then you spot a familiar head of choppy, blue hair.

“Powder, what are you doing this far out?” Your tone is scolding, but your hands grasp her forearms protectively, having stopped her from tumbling over.

You feel Viktor’s hand on your bicep, tugging you backward, away from Powder as if on instinct. It pisses you off just a bit, scratching at the just barely scabbed over wound that was the last interaction you all had. You must center yourself, remembering the agreement of peace that came into place right after all the theatrics. He should remember too, though. His hand falls from you when you move out of his grasp to the side, freeing your hands and standing between the two.

“I could ask you guys the same thing.” Powder’s arms cross over her chest, hip cocked out in a defiant, and admittedly petulant, stance.

“Uh, we were just going out,” you explain, half-honest.

“So you are together!” A shit eating grin causes your eyes to roll. “You should’ve just been honest from the start, instead of rudely kicking me out.” She punctuates the statement by sticking her tongue out in the direction of Viktor.

Quick on your feet, you decide to go along with this narrative. It’ll be easier to get out of this quickly without involving her in this mess. “Sorry, Powder. You know I’m not the most… open person, and Viktor here was just confused. He thought you were someone else. Isn’t that right, babe?”

“Mm. Yes, of course. I do apologize, Miss Powder,” Viktor quickly plays along.

Powder hums and accepts the shitty explanation in all her victory. She values being right over being alert.

“Well, where are you going? Somewhere fancy, I bet.”

“I can’t afford fancy, but—“ Viktor cuts you off.

“But, I want to show them some beautiful spots I’ve come across in the uppercuts. The sky is so beautiful there, when I first saw it I was in awe.”

It’s your turn to become struck off guard and Powder giggles excitedly.

“Oh, I see. Treat them well, or I will find you and kill you.” She says it in an overly matter-of-fact manner that is clearly humorous, but the way Viktor’s eyes narrow lets you know that he isn’t trusting of the girl at all.

It is true that the sky is beautiful in Piltover. The way the fluffy clouds dapple the rich blue backdrop is breathtaking. Yet there is no time for sight seeing. Viktor is leading you straight to your destination with the vigor of somebody who is late. You know he’s trying to get back to his timeline and all, but his urgency leaves you a little on edge.

Finally, you reach the outside of an apartment building and he stops dead in his tracks, focusing on a giant hole in the space where you can only assume a very nice penthouse used to lie. Viktor begins mumbling to himself, something about the explosion still happening but a something-core can’t exist here because— he stops and turns to you.

“Something is wrong here. We must make another stop, but first I would like to investigate.”

He suggests that you stay outside, but there’s no way in hell you’re doing that. You stick with him and end up in front of a gate at the base of a staircase within. Locked. Viktor curses in defeat after rattling the barred door. You scoff at his simplicity, grabbing a set of lock picking tools from your pocket and instructing him to keep watch. Upon seeing your rolodex of tools, he is baffled, but then a smile develops on his face. He is impressed.

Upstairs, you come upon a memorial outside the door the two of you seek out. Viktor freezes for a moment, closes his eyes and sighs. He places a hand atop the one already resting on his cane, the weight of this revelation leaving him physically laden. You inspect the display and spot the name Jayce Talis.

Realization instantly hits. The man with the answers is dead. More so, Viktor’s friend doesn’t exist here. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his shoulder and he squeezes his eyes shut harder, lips pressing together. A long silence before he turns to you.

Voice just above a whisper, eyes still cast downward, he says, “I hate to ask for more of you, but would you happen to have anything to add to the memorial? It would mean a great deal to me.”

You slowly nod, shucking off your bag and finding a pretty rock you collected on the way over here. You place it near an unlit candle on the polished floor, gentle and with care. The heaviness somehow extends to you and wraps around the both of you for the time that you spend in that hallway.

“We must continue,” Viktor finally says, gesturing to the door. You try the handle and find the wooden slab barely attached to its hinges. It swings open and then adjusts to its weight, hinges squeaking before it settles on the floor permanently.

Viktor waits outside for a moment, eyes cast downward, and you wait to go further until he joins you at the threshold. Fragments of a blue gem embedded in the wall are collected and placed in a stray vile you find on the floor. It is difficult to maneuver the place. It looks as though there was an explosion that blasted the hole through the outside wall.

Some effort to clean up afterward was made, but you notice some blood spatter on the floor and wall. Your skin crawls, and you wonder if this incident could be connected with Vi’s death. From the little Powder has filled you in about that day, you are able to spot connections within the little details here and there. Your heart sinks and you halt your imagination from going any further. As soon as you get what is needed, you rush to get out of there, Viktor in tow with the same sentiment.

That secondary destination Viktor spoke of is Piltover Academy. You ask many questions about why you’re here exactly, and Viktor feeds you continuously bland answers. All you can glean is that you seek a person that will be in the courtyard shortly. Viktor has memorized their schedule, so they must’ve been close in his world. You hope, for his sake, that they actually appear.

And they do. The person in question is a professor: Cecil Heimerdinger. You’ve heard of the Yordle inventor in passing, word of his contributions to Piltover reaching even the far sides of Zaun. Enough to know that he is a highly respected scientist, and you deduce that this is why Viktor was so insistent on finding him.

Viktor gets straight to the point, spilling his guts about traveling to another dimension and wanting to get back to his original timeline. He speaks of the crystal fragments you gathered, how they have the potential to create a machine capable of taking him back.

“This is very much feasible with the correct mechanics, I am quite impressed,” the professor remarks, a hand on his chin as he mentally scrutinizes the possibilities. His eyes then land on you. “And who is this friend?”

A pregnant pause. Viktor stares at you for an uncomfortably long time before speaking. “This is my only ally here, a co-creator of the technology I speak of… They were also my significant other in my original world.”

This is news to you, and the way Viktor tears his gaze away from you tells you that he didn’t want to divulge this information. But why? What difference would it have made in this whole affair? The unearned affectionate glances and his shyness around your compliments all make sense now.

“Oh, I see. How poetic that they should lend a kind hand to you here as well,” Heimerdinger muses.

Viktor hums, looking lost in thought. You remain silent, ruminative for the rest of this interaction. The Yordle agrees to lend one of the university’s labs to the two of you, with the condition that he oversees your work. He connects the explosion at the apartment with the gem fragments and notes the dangers of the operation. While he is wary of such a conquest, he seems almost tickled by the prospect.

An appointment is made for Viktor and you to return tomorrow. At that time, you’ll receive the keys to a lab and the consent to invent… A magical machine, you suppose. You just hope this endeavor doesn’t take too long. You have already grown tired of the friction Viktor is causing in your personal life.

On the long journey home, a thought you’ve had since you heard Viktor’s confession spills from your mouth before you can hold it back any longer. “If we were together in your world, why did you tell me you hadn’t seen me in a while when you—appeared here?”

“I don’t wish to discuss that at the moment. It has been a long day,” Viktor responds, voice rough with his exhaustion.

You let it lie, for now at least. He promised to tell you all that you ask, and you intend to hold him to it. A quiet meal and a few more words are exchanged before bed. Tomorrow, more answers await the two of you. You can’t help how heavy you feel after today, or what to think of Viktor’s unwillingness to divulge the truth about your other self. It must be more than a simple falling out, or a breakup.

What could have happened to the other you? Could he have hurt you? You don’t think so, but the guilt behind his eyes makes you uneasy. Once again, the night is restless with too many unanswered questions. You will get to the bottom of this, but will you regret it when you do?

Viktor’s haunting anecdote rings in your mind all night.

Some things are better left unknown.

Viktor nation! It is done!!! Please leave me your thoughts, I would really appreciate it :) The huge, positive response to the preview post motivated me to get this done quicker than I thought I could. Anyway, thanks for reading, I appreciate every single one of you 💕

[tentenismybitch]

ok team gai-centric tenten headcanons now:

(handwaving canon cus idk if they even still have anbu after the war lmao but) she wants to be an ANBU and specifically requests it when kakashi becomes hokage - since kakashi is her sensei’s husband best friend, she incorrectly believes that he will grant her request. it’s because of this that the opposite happens: he explicitly DENIES her repeated requests and when she eventually confronts him about it, he’s like: well. me and gai care about you too much for me to fuck you up like that. here is a genin team that would benefit from your tutelage instead :)

tenten was neji's first real friend. but also. he used to piss her off BAD with all his fate and destiny talk, and for being an uptight clan-kid. she definitely used to pick fights with him in their academy days. he often won, but she discovered his blindspot because one time he turns his back on her and she throws a rock at him and it actually hits him. she's like "oh word? 👀 that vision's not quite 360 is it HYUGA?"

also. kinda pisses me off that neji is on a team with ROCK LEE and TENTEN, two of the canonically most pleasant, friendly and optimistic people in the konoha 11/12, and their sensei is fucking MAITO GAI, but it takes getting beat by naruto, some random jerkwad he just met, to change neji’s perspective on fate and make him less driven by his anger and hopelessness. i absolutely do not accept that, though i understand it had to happen because this is Naruto the Manga. IN MY MIND THO, naruto just echoes and drives home sentiments that neji’s LITERAL TEAM AND ONLY LOVED ONES have been drilling into him for the entire year that they have been on a team before he even met naruto, and also probably insisted on when they were still in the academy. bffr

RELATEDLY: sorry, but. for a while. tenten does not like hinata. she feels bad and guilty about it, but, well, two things. 1) (at least according to narutopedia) tenten allegedly hates weak people. based purely on what she hears from neji, she would probably categorize hinata as a weak person and 2) even if she didn’t, as neji’s literal only friend and someone who understands injustice, she would empathize with him and his hatred for the main house. in her child’s/teenage understanding of it all, she would find it perfectly reasonable that neji hates hinata, and in defense of her friend, would also not like her. she is never outright mean to hinata, because she’s not cruel! she just doesn’t try particularly hard to be her friend! hinata might not even notice it herself!! and she gets over it eventually!!

she also likes spicy food just not as spicy as gai and lee like it. her spice tolerance is like. she can eat buldak spicy ramen (original) but wouldn't touch 2x spicy, which gai and lee could eat regularly. neji cannot handle spicy food at all, bless his heart <3

this is going to be a hot take (its my headcanon tho so who cares) but. gai tries to teach them all how to open the gates. neji can't do it at all; tenten can only get as far as the 4th gate, the gate of pain

tenten is the first to kill someone and she is...not as upset about it as gai, lee, and neji thought she would be. in fact, her callousness about it scares gai a little bit and he has to give her a Talk about the Value of Human Life, even when it is an Enemy's Life.

also. see headcanon #1 on this list. when she requests to be anbu kakashi remembers this and is like "hm. this kid's got a latent bloodlust. maybe no anbu!"

because my kakagai goggles are always on: kakashi and gai try to be discreet about their relationship at first but tenten's very observant. whenever kakagai is acting a little too weird for her she's like "just make out already DAMN!"

speaking of kakashi, after naruto leaves, since tsunade has taken over sakura's training, he hangs out with team gai during their training sessions (that's their Stepdad ok)

ok. i'm disregarding the filler that explains how everyone became a chunin for this one:

after losing to temari so quickly and brutally, tenten OBSESSES over proving herself in this specific way. chunin exams are apparently held twice a year, so they register again–lee and neji are lowkey not ready after both getting major surgeries just a few months before, but they see how important it is to her so they register anyway and both end up getting knocked out in their final matches. that's right baby: tenten becomes a chunin first! lee and neji follow in the next exams six months later

speaking of disregarding canon: instead of gai holding them back a year, i hc that when it was time to register for the chunin exams when they were more newly a team, tenten opts not to register because she thinks they are not cohesive enough as a team (cus neji and lee are always getting into it.) neji and lee are very mad at her for this but she's actually right

[yuripira4e]

I want to preface this post by saying that I love the cat king as a character, especially one that has such a major impact on Edwin and his relationship with his queerness and learning to be okay with it; HOWEVER, I also believe that everyone that genuinely believes he should be a love interest for Edwin should read this. (Also if you just like the cat king as a character and want to understand his character better and why his and Edwin’s relationship is not something that would be healthy or “real” for either)

[arcanumb]

i love when people ask me what my poems mean bc bitch i probably know less about what it means than you do

[rxttenfish]

i have and still do think its extremely weird how many people have an immediate negative gut reaction to fur and to hunting in general, especially occurring even more negatively the less they know about it. like.

even just disregarding the fact that an animal being hunted is one of the most sustainable things available to most people nowadays, with the animal being killed as fast as possible in a way that utilizes as much of their body as possible, in a way that produces very little waste, when basically every hunter i know are some of the most ecologically conscientious and green-minded people you can find — the fur and leather and bone itself is one of the few things you can actually feel Connected to anymore.

like i look at the other stuff they promote and so many "green products" and i still can't tell where they're from or how they were produced or even entirely what went into making them. none of my furs are like that. i often talked to the person who hunted and skinned and tanned the hide, who sewed the hat or the bag or the coat, i can identify and pick out the exact animal who gave its life for it and know them very intimately, and for an incredibly long amount of time, long enough that most of what i have was passed down to me from my family. like these are the opposites of fast fashion in every respect, im usually excited to be able to break out my otter or raccoon hat when winter comes around, i come back to my buffalo bags over and over.

i'm often very uncomfortable when they're described as "luxury items" as well for that reason - they're often just priced accordingly to the time and effort that goes into them and will last just as long as the price tag implies. animal fur and leather are the very first materials humans had available to them. it's not any different than going to a craft show and buying a knitted hat from a grandma for me, except that i know the full history of how all that material was acquired in the first place and that it won't be sat aside or forgotten under anything else. it's very hard, even when you just have one fur hat, to not make the full use out of it, that you want to and it occupies a position of respect. hell, fur isn't even "in" for rich people anymore, it's increasingly gone out of fashion for them and has shown up less and less over time.

i don't know. it's very weird to see everyone has a weird gut reaction to seeing fur or discussing hunting, in a way that has never correlated to anything i've actually experienced.

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! oh my goodness. i am SO sorry i didn’t say anything earlier. i did read everything a couple days ago, and i Have been chewing on it, rotating it in my mind, etc etc…..and the graphic has been my phone lockscreen since i first read it!!!!!

frankly i am obsessed and have also been a little frazzled this month lol. saw your post late because of the general whirlwind that is december and then couldn’t quite get my thoughts into sufficient words n got worried “oh no would it be weird to say something now…..” which is incredibly silly in retrospect, so sorry for that. 

i’m relatively new to hockey fandom and the Narratives don’t always quite click for me (yet, at least :)) because i don’t know all of the lore for a lot of the popular pairings haha, so it means a lot that you’ve taken time out of your day to break things down for me and share your own thoughts <3 tysm. again, super sorry for the delayed response. i’m very sorry if you felt as though you’d wasted your time or something along those lines :’) just wanted to let you know that i really appreciate you and the time it took you to get everything down and make the graphic!!!! and like i can’t overstate how much your tags both over here and on your other blog have helped me to Get It since the start of this season, so thank you.

but now the house is quiet, the in-laws are gone, and no new work stuff until january :) so i can finally get some stuff down. every point you brought up hits in it own way but gosh you are very incredibly right the mcstrome of it all…..that’s sort of the lens i’ve been listening to the song through since you mentioned it.

the golden boy and the “draft bust” and the ever present notion of “isn’t it all about old friends? like everything? all of it?”.  like idk looking back on a bestfriendship from when you were a teenager that was Super intense and the lines were blurred and maybe realizing (if you hadn’t had the words or the “guts” or awareness or wtv to put a name to it at that point in your life) that y’all were a smidge more than just friends. 

best friends forever until you just aren’t! growing up and growing apart. it’s just the way things go but it can and will ache for a damn long time! you think you’re over it until their birthday or the holidays roll around and you wonder in a distant sort of way who they’re spending it with. what you would’ve hypothetically gotten them as a present if you still spoke. what do they even like nowadays, anyway?

maybe having the friendship end subtly. going from playing and traveling together and living in one another’s pockets to 2,080 miles of distance? (i may have my timeline/details confused here so sorry in advance) texting as much as you can at first but he’s a phenom he’s mcjesus he’s the next in line he’s expected to win the cup with his new team and end the drought for Canada. and they have him now but he was yours first, wasn’t he? but it’s fine. because you’re busy too. you’re captaining the team now. you’re gonna get the memorial cup that he couldn’t. it’s fine. you’re fine. you don’t even have time to worry about it anyway. 

one conversation a week turns to one a month turns to once in a blue moon turns to stale words until it goes cold. these days you can’t quite seem to remember who ended things, but does it really matter all that much now?

or maybe it doesn’t end like that at all. maybe it ends in a flurry of angry words and digs in some or other of the endless hotel rooms you’ve shared together over the years. who knows!

and that’s not even getting into the rest of the 2015 draft class. or the ld19 of it all! ooh hoo hoo. you grew up with him but he’s not your waiting room. he grew up with you but he’ll grow “old” (end his career) with someone else. and isn’t that just something! 

i don’t think it’s totally them, but sort of the sentiment of “I hope you get everything you ever wanted and I hope I never hear a word about it.” I want one ticket off of your carousel!!!! merry christmas, please don’t call!!!!!!!

dylan being sent up and down and traded around until finally landing in washington, a place where he is clearly at home and LOVED for the guy and player he is!!!!!!!! watching a game and seeing all the strome jerseys in the crowd……..wagh.

all that said. some other songs that are mcstrome to me in various ways: hot & heavy by lucy dacus (lol kinda the whole song). before the world was big by girlpool (“i just miss how it felt standing next to you wearing matching [jerseys? sweaters?] before the world was big”). happiness by Taylor swift (“i guess it’s the price i pay for seven years in heaven”), cut your bangs by radiator hospital (maybe? possibly? unsure. i like the whole dog thing there). i’m so glad i feel this way about you by insignificant other (!!!!!). there are so many THEM lyrics in there……..waough.

anyway. other things off the top of my head: 2015 connor specifically saying something like “hey let’s wait a minute so we can see this” to stand by the stage when dylan was getting drafted after him. MAN. you reminded me of the fact that they couldn’t even make eye contact at the handshake line!!!!!!!!! they didn’t go to each other’s weddings!!!!!!!!!! (do you think once upon a time they ever thought they’d being each other’s best man?). just a couple months ago dylan liking the tweet of connor getting that goal during the playoffs!!!!!!!! makes you wonder if he texted him………..

lol this was all over the place and i was probably wrong on some things and there’s SO much more that someone else could say way more eloquently, but i digress. i dunno everything about them is so nuts to me!!!!! needless to say i will be incredibly sat for the game january 21 🙂‍↕️

thank you again for your time :) hope you have a good one and a happy rest of the holiday season! <3333333

what a lovely message to receive 🥰😭🥹 i had to break it up into chunks because i couldn't sit down to read all of it at once without just. bouncing right back up and shrieking. i am also at heart terribly shy so i understand the struggle but it is never too late to say something <3 you are always welcome here

first!!! i love sharing!! i think most of hockey tumblr loves to see people finding out the Lore for the first time and the wonderful thing about hockey is that. it keeps going on. so there's years and years and generations and generations and always something new to learn about. i've learned to just not be afraid to ask!!! between different teams and players i'm always discovering new narratives (learning about the sharks old man yaoi rn... cbj rarepairs...)

no... to my heart's despair... you have the timeline right. i think in the best most tragic sense there's a mcstrome narrative where it is truly that nothing went wrong. the love was there. we couldn't do enough to save it because we didn't see it slipping away. i didn't notice when you didn't call until you never did. i don't know you now but i still remember when i did, do you?

HE'S NOT YOUR WAITING ROOM?? passing out. i do see "i hope you get everything you ever wanted and i hope i never hear a word about it" as them because!! they didn't go to each other's weddings!!! i don't wish you harm but i'm not going to put myself through that!! i hope you're happy and i'm never going to look on purpose.

i love dylan strome so much and the best part is that they all love him so much too. he wore a cool vintage ovechkin jacket!! and got slapped in the face with a tortilla!! he loves to gently rag on the rookies!! it just takes some time, everything'll be just fine. you're only on the middle of the ride.

OKAY WHEN I READ THIS PART I SCREAMED BECAUSE I DO HAVE A MCSTROME PLAYLIST AND!!!! HOT & HEAVY BY LUCY DACUS IS IN FACT ON IT!!! SO IS CUT YOUR BANGS (BUT BY GIRLPOOL SO DOUBLE JINX)!!!! i have dorothea by taylor swift on there but i don't know happiness so i'll have to give all the other songs a listen. mostly i just shrieked because i was like NO YOU GOT THE VIBES EXACTLY

🧠〰️🧠 truly the mind meld happening here. the handshake line. the mutual wedding non-invitations. i won't block your number or your name on twitter i just hope i don't see it come up on screen!! i do think that we got confirmation the last time they played each other that dylan did text him to say congrats on a milestone but i would have to check the archives

p.s. i think you said it perfectly eloquently :) what matters is that you said it at all and i was delighted to read it 💕

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

if any of my fanfics get published at least i can rest assured that i didn't post any of the original versions so nobody can know 100% sure for real just what my original intent was 😇

[inkskinned]

it's because the bear wouldn't kill me just for being a woman. the bear doesn't kill me for fun. the bear can be shouted at, and will leave me alone. the bear won't make a tiktok complaining about how i crossed to the other side of the path when i saw him coming. if a bear kills me, it's just being a bear: it cannot understand logic. it is not acting out of malice - just fear or hunger.

bell hooks once wrote about how porches might be the only outside space left for women - it is still the domain of the house while it is also outside-but-safe. when i am in the woods, i am in the bear's home, and he has a right to defend his property. outside spaces - anywhere at night, certain parks in the day - those are often implicitly "owned" by men. i cannot explain the feeling of knowing when you have entered a man's "territory." you walk into a place and just know you are in their space. you get a sick sense - you're in danger.

the other day a group of about 8 men were fooling around in the woods while i walked my dog. i had to go around, take the extra 3 miles just to avoid them. it's okay, i like walking. this wasn't even a #feminism moment. it was just a tuesday.

what a plain and easy question. only one of the situations is seen as a tragic accident. i would rather die and have a park bench erected in my honor rather than have my family questioned about why they let me, an adult, walk in the woods in the first place when i should really be at home in the kitchen.

i worked in retail and food service. i have had women say and do absolutely heinous and abusive things to me - not because i was a woman, but because i was there, and they were angry. the way men treated me when angry was different - it was because i was a woman. you can always feel the difference, how there's an undertone of i'd hurt you worse if i could get away with it. i keep seeing people try to cite stupid statistics. why is there always a strange rage whenever women agree on things? like men can argue their way out of our lived experiences? it isn't a buzzfeed quiz - which of these traumas are you? 10 super cute ways not to fear strange men.

i have actually (thrice!) seen a bear in the wild, by the way. i died each time, obviously, and am a ghost writing to you. (it was scary but completely and utterly fine). the second encounter was a black bear with her cub. she looked at me like - do we have to do this or are we good? my dog was busy sniffing a bush, completely nonreactive. i felt like i was in a sitcom: feminist poet reacts - does she actually mean she'd choose the bear? my only thought was - she's so beautiful. her paws are massive.

and there's a part of me that feels the rage spinning out in a corner. why do we have to come up with quippy little comments in order to teach men empathy. would you rather die in a car accident or due to a mugging? and would you rather your house burn down due to an electrical fire or due to arson? gee willikers - it's almost like we're human people, and want to risk the accident versus the intention.

i would rather my last thought be oh shit, a bear rather than i'm a person too. why doesn't that matter? why don't you care?

[lilakennedy]

That feeling tho when you find that fic writer that just absolutely fucking

understands the characters to their core

writes so well they–just so–they just—their writing is—-THEY WRITE GOOD

shatters your bad mood with a new update

writes a fic that you can read over again and still clutch at your heart like HOLY SHIT I FUCKING LOVE–I LOVE THIS FIC

writes a scene that has you all giddy in public and that one random stranger asks you like “ooo you are smiling :) :) is that a boy :) you are talking to :)” and you’re like “no I’m reading a Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies AU, please leave”

understands and portrays the characters better than the people who make MOVIES with those characters

amazing. just amazing. fic writers are awesome

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪  lover !!

ᝰ.ᐟ even if he doesn't exude this energy to outsiders, you're happy to know that your boyfriend is the biggest simp around when it comes to you. or: the cute things he'll do for you.  (fem!reader)

featuring yoichi isagi, seishiro nagi, reo mikage, rin itoshi, rensuke kunigami content contains hotel bathroom sinks designed by a man, slight jealousy (reo is the jealous boyfriend), height differences (nagi + kunigami + rin are described as taller), wearing his clothes + clothes is described to be oversized on you (nagi), called a simp by his teammates (kunigami), clingy bf (yoichi <3) author's notes hq version coming soon!!! i just wanted to write something soft n fluffy for once <3

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI — goes viral on tiktok when the two of you go on vacation to celebrate your second year anniversary. you're recording yourself from the bathroom of the private villa he rented out for the two of you, and you originally wanted to record what an absolute joke the sink is. there is literally no counter space. nowhere to place any of your makeup or skincare products. yoichi interupts the video unknowingly, knocking softly and asking if he can come in. he doesn't realize you're filming, and it's entirely genuine when he asks, "is everything okay? you sounded frustrated? did you need help opening something?" you laugh before explaining the situation, and he's silent for all but one second before he goes, "oh! i'll just hold your makeup bag, and i'll hand you the stuff when you need it." (poor yoichi means well, but he's standing there for over an hour as you laugh at him when he can't tell the difference between a tube of lipgloss and liquid blush. the look of concentration on his face as he nods intently while you explain what each product is for is absolutely adorable; it's the same concentrated look he gets when he's reviewing game footage, meaning he's taking this seriously for you.) he's also the type that loves to follow you around. it's a common joke for his fans to comment "walk him like a dog, sis!" on any candid photos of you + yoichi because he is almost always holding your hand while trailing behind you. he's like your shadow as he follows you around different stores in the mall, and even when you tell him he can just sit down with the other boyfriends while you just try on some clothes, he refuses to leave your side. tries to follow you to the dressing room, and gets all pouty when he realizes he's not allowed in. makes you walk outside the dressing room with the new outfits on so he can rate them (he is incredibly biased and believes everything looks good on you and forces you to bring everything to the cashier so he can swipe his card to get it for you <3)

౨ৎ REO MIKAGE — cannot handle anyone else taking up large chunks of your time, especially when he rarely gets to see you during game season. makes a face anytime he realizes that the server at the restaurant is a guy. the server will smile at you and tell you that he'll get started on that meal for you right away, and reo leans forward once he's gone and goes, "i can't believe he was flirting with you right in front of me! disgusting!" he's actually convinced that every man in the world wants you for themselves, and if you tease him by threatening to run off with any of these men, he'll instantly frown and start telling you to take that back right now! however, he is entirely convinced that you are the greatest thing to ever grace this earth, and he feels so proud whenever you two are out in public and a fan or an employee compliments you. they could say anything postive about you, and he'll beam with pride, going "i know, right? i tell her this all the time!" it's almost common knowledge that the easiest way to get on reo's good side is to treat you well. he also loves listening to you gossip, and is the type of boyfriend who loves all your friends (even if he can't quite remember their names; it's only important that they treat you kindly and loyally), and hates everyone that you hate. he's also less forgiving than you; if someone backstabs you but you forgive them and grant them a second chance, just know that reo still hates their guts and he'll make it incredibly obvious.

౨ৎ SEISHIRO NAGI — can’t help but make video game versions of the two of you any chance he gets. he’ll pretend to not notice the way your eyes light up when you pass by any claw machine containing plushies of your favorite anime characters, but somehow he’ll manage to find himself at the machine, casually winning you your favorite as if the game isn’t designed to make everyone lose. (he’s just that good.) even if you’re not as big of a gamer as him, he’ll watch you play sims 4 (and subsequently watch you spend 3 hours on the create-a-sim section because you’re trying to create a perfect carbon copy of the two of you.) looks for his favorite hoodie only to glance over at your still-sleeping form on his bed and realizes that you’re wearing it. you look adorable in it; he’s taller than you, bigger in every aspect, so the material swallows you up. (he doesn’t wake you up nor does he ask for it back.) despite the fact that he’s taller than you, nagi is definitely a big baby, and is constantly the little spoon. he loves to come home and bury his face in your neck, loves the way you gently run your fingers through his hair (it’s the easiest way for him to fall asleep), and he’ll constantly try to find ways for you to hold him.

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI — grants you “scary dog privilege.” literally will mean mug every man in the street as the two of you are walking together. everyone thinks that rin would be a selfish lover from his outside appearance, but he surprisingly puts up with a lot of your antics because he loves you so much. you don’t bother buying a step stool because you count on rin to get you anything you need from the tall shelves (and when you’re mad at him, he’ll purposely find ways to get all your most-used items on a hard-to-reach area so you have to sulkily seek him out and ask for his help. there’s no way in hell you put your face wash on top of the fridge, and rin looks all too happy to grab it for you.) he has a very bare social media account and most of the time, he just posts whatever his publicists draft up for him. the only post he has personally created and shared himself is the one of you on your birthday; in a sea of promotional posters and professionally taken game highlights, the smiling faces of you and rin stand out. (it’s the happiest any of his fans have ever seen him look.)

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI — his teammates make fun of him because he is notoriously loyal to you. they tricked him and took him out to a strip club, and there’s a viral video of kunigami staring intently at his phone, never looking up once at his surroundings. (he was going through your instagram feed + then ran out of photos to look at, so he started going through his camera roll to look at pictures and videos of you.) is the boyfriend who embodies the phrase ‘wear whatever you want, baby, i can fight.’ there’s a photo of you two that did numbers on pinterest. kunigmai is such a big guy, towers over you, honestly, but he readily gets down on his knees for you. in the photo, you two are dressed up to attend a gala. he’s on his knees, and you have one high-heel clad foot resting on the top of his thigh as he looks down and is adjusting the ankle strap of your heel for you. his friends shared the photo in the team groupchat and called him a simp, but kunigami knows that if they had someone half as great as you, they’d act just the same.

[apiptosis]

The Fentons might have settled in the middle of bumfuck nowhere but they did have quite the reputation from their crazy antics. It is well known that:

1. Atleast one of the partner pair is always built like a brick shit house.

2. They all have a time period where they pick up a ton of random skills and useless knowledge before settling down on their particular niche.

3. A person of Fenton descent will always fall for the most dangerous person around them.

4. A Fenton will always bounce back from anything. They can die but they cannot be killed by mortal means.

5. They have the bad habit of unconsciously putting themselves in harms way.

The traits mentioned wouldn't have been a problem if the heros found out about them however due to facts 2, 3, 4 and, 5 the Fentons were well known to the villains.

This leads to the situation Danny now found himself in after he tripped off of a rooftop and got hit by a car into a warehouse building.

Picking himself up from the rubble with groan and a crack of his back Danny took stock of his situation. The closest was a pretty lady that vaguely looked familiar along with a few goons and a dude in a bat furry costume with a bunch of people. The youngest was cosplaying a traffic light. A girl with a purple cloak. A girl in black was dressed similarly enough to the bat furry. Etc.

It looked like he interrupted some kind of fight and now they all just stood there uncertain of what to do.

The lady suddenly grabbed him by the collar and yanked his head down to her level as she examined him. "Oh fuck me sideways your a Fenton... If your here then..." She quickly let go of him.

It took Danny half a second before he could place her. "Oh yeah! You are that lady uncle Robby was pinning after, Shiv something."

The cosplayers all looked uncertain and he could feel the concern radiating from them.

"I am Lady Shiva and yes Robert certainly is something. First time I found a man I couldn't kill." The lady, Shiva, a fond look on her face.

"You got any allergies? Mom and dad's 30th anniversary is coming up this November. Just about the whole family is coming." Danny said giving her a piece of paper with the date and location.

"is Alicia going to be there?" Lady Shiva said as she gripped her blades tighter, a predatory smile on her face.

"I did say the *whole* family. Even Gruncle Ra is coming." Danny explained with a shrug.

"Yes!" Shiva exclaimed. "Between you and me I still don't know how Cheetah manages to pull your aunt."

"I try to forget. I just remember that they are banned from 40 countries." Danny said as he shuddered. After a quick glance at his watch he bolted for the hole in the wall. "Oh shit I have to go pick up my sister from Arkham!"

As he ran he distantly heard Lady Shiva yell "I'll be there and call me aunt Shiva!"

[think-before-you-screenshot]

I CANNOT stop thinking about Merrill as Inquisitor. Solas rocks up like “I’m just an apostate mage!” and Merrill’s insane, insatiable curiosity requires him to start crafting the most INTRICATE lies, while she simultaneously absolutely eviscerates him for condescending to explain stuff she already knows.

Solas: “Oh I walk in the Fade!”

Merrill: “Teach me immediately!”

Solas, who did not expect this: “Oh. Hmm. Actually it’s a highly specialized skill.”

Merrill: “Would blood magic help?”

Solas: ????

***

Iron Bull, asking about the eluvian: “The fuck is that?”

Solas, full professor-mode: “It is an ancient elven artifact, known as-“

Merrill: “Ooooooh I wonder if it connects to the other eluvian!”

Solas, panicked: “What other eluvian?”

Merrill: “The one in my house!”

Solas: ??!!???

***

Solas: “Vallaslin are slave markings, actually.”

Merrill: “Oh that’s sad! But they mean so much more now, my vallaslin is one of my last connections to a culture I am no longer allowed to participate in. They remind me that I am always Dalish, no matter what happens - that’s a part of me!”

Solas: “History doesn’t change just because you want it to!”

Merrill: “Are you not listening to me on purpose?.”

***

Merrill: “So are you dedicated to the Dread Wolf?”

Solas, spitting out his drink: “WHAT?”

Merrill: “We’ll you’re so rude about the Dalish and you don’t have vallaslin! But it wouldn’t be very, you know, sneaky to put “I am dedicated to the Dread Wolf!” on your face.”

Solas, panicking: “Uh, well, actually, um…”

Merrill: “Plus you wear a wolf jaw bone around your neck.”

Solas: !!!!!??!????

Merrill: “Not very subtle, is it?”

[summoningspark]

IIRC, USAsians don't have e-transfers. That's why they have so many money sending apps like Venmo and cashapp and whatever else there is, they don't have the inter-bank financial infrastructure to do things like interac e-transfers

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[gracieheartspedro]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x afab! reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld