#cw intimate partner violence mention

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Diversity win! Local lesbian joins 40% of cops statistic

[whumpiary]

soft landing (part 3)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 content warnings: referenced intimate partner violence, referenced suicide, referenced family violence, caretaker pov

-

They both commit to a nap after lunch that Mal is more than grateful for. He walks Cass to the spare bedroom, asks if he needs anything, and finally goes to crash in his own bed for a few hours. He wakes up to the late afternoon sun just barely leaking through the blinds, and the sound of a guitar being played very quietly down the hall.

When he gets to the spare bedroom, he watches for a minute through the cracked open door. Cass with an old teal acoustic balanced on his knee, awkwardly plucking at strings like he’s trying to remember how a song goes. It pulls at Mal’s heart to see it.

For a moment, suddenly all he wants is to hear a proper song from the old thing.

And that’s when Cass seems to notice him, looking up like he’s been caught out in the middle of something, a sheepish smile on his face as he turns the guitar flat on his lap. “Ah shit, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Mal waves a hand, “Nah not a bit. Would’ve needed to get up soon anyway.”

“Sorry,” Cass says again. His voice still has the low husk to it of someone barely awake from sleep himself. He gestures to the guitar in his lap. “Wasn’t tryna snoop or anything, just saw it in the corner.”

“All good. Probably good for it to get a work out,” Mal says, stepping into the room. Even from here, he can see the dust built up on the thing, parts polished clean by the brush of Cass’ hands. “Did you sleep any?”

“Little bit,” Cass says. “Moxie kept waking me up though.”

“Nooo,” Mal laughs, “She bop you on the nose?”

“Yeah, then hid under the bed.”

“Sounds about right. She must’ve decided she likes you.”

Cass laughs softly and looks back at the guitar, looking like he’s trying to remember the right hand-shape for a chord. Mal finds himself looking over the room, wondering if Cass did actually sleep or if he just said it because it was the right thing to say. The bed is still made. He could’ve slept on top of the sheets though, Mal supposes. 

It’s then that he spots the phone on the bedside table, sleek and black and clearly new. A much needed upgrade from the third-hand, cracked to smithereens thing Cass’d been toting around just a few weeks ago.

He points to it, smiling, using the excuse for a conversation stoker, “Hey, finally got an update. Well done.”

Cass looks across at it, and then away again, and suddenly shame seems to be etched into every inch of his skin. Mal bites down on his tongue so he doesn't cringe, and makes the mental note to surgically remove the foot from his mouth a little later.

“...He likes buying me stuff,” he says after a few moments, tone somewhere between defence and confession. “New clothes. Dinners out, shit like that.”

Mal sucks in a slow breath. It’s the sort of thing that maybe wouldn’t be worrying in and of itself but it certainly paints… a particular picture. 

“I thought it was kinda sweet at first,” Cass says, soft-sad smile on his face. “Kinda reminds me of Josiah, that sort of thing, you know? The take-care-of-you thing.”

Mal nods. Gives half shrug, leaning against the doorway, “I get that.”

“Yeah, but you know how it goes,” Cass says, tone light like he’s setting up for a punchline. “One day they’re buying you nice shoes and shouting you dinner, the next day they’re covering your rent and you're wondering when your blowjobs went premium.”

He tosses across a devil may care grin that doesn’t land even a little. Mal presses his lips together. It’s the sort of thing, he knows, that would be easier and smoothed over if he laughed along with the joke. But it’s not really a joke. It’s curdled, razor-edged, self deprecating. Insult dressed up. 

Cass seems to catch the hint. He sobers a little, sniffs, his thumb running along the grain of the blanket. He shrugs. Maybe trying for nonchalant in lieu of humour. That doesn’t land either. 

“Dunno,” he says, the sickly smile wilting on his face. “Seemed okay at the time. I was missing shifts because we were hanging out a lot and, I dunno, he felt bad I guess, so he offered to help out. And I figured it’s kinda him paying my bills one way or the other, right? So, whatever. But, um…” He shrugs, bottom lip trembling until he bites down to stop it. “I don’t know. Started making me feel...”

“Dependent?” Mal offers, after a beat.

Cass breathes a laugh, looking up with a grin and dead eyes. “Like a fucking whore, actually.”

Mal presses his lips together. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” Cass says with a shrug, looking back down to the guitar. He plucks the E string with thumb and forefinger, sound reverberating out to the walls and back. “Not your fault.”

“No, I’m sorry someone made you feel like that,” he corrects. “You deserve better.”

Cass seems to still at that; the absent, tertiary movements of his body pausing unnaturally like he’s caught in time for a moment. He glances somewhere at Mal’s knee, and then goes back to plucking at the same string again. 

“I don’t want you thinking he’s a bad guy or something,” Cass says, like the thought has been poking at him the whole conversation. “He wasn’t making me feel like that on purpose, you know? He was just trying to look after me.”

“You don’t have to defend him.”

“I’m not defending, I just don’t want you thinking it was something that it wasn’t,” he says, insistent. “He’s a good guy.”

Mal gives him a look. Can’t help himself. “I mean he hit you, mate.”

“Yeah, but even that… That was mostly an accident anyway, you know? Like he apologised and stuff. He didn’t mean it.”

Inhale. “Right.”

“Like that’s my whole point, it was over the line but he didn’t mean to go over the line.”

Exhale. “Okay.”

“We’d both done a couple lines, you know? Had a few. And we were arguing and I was egging him on and shit, being an asshole. And it just… you know, it escalated. It wasn’t a big deal.”

So why are you here then, Cass? Why were you crying on my couch? 

The words keep coming. 

“And I’m not… look, I’m not stupid, alright? I know he shouldn’t have hit me. I know it’s fucked up that he’s my boss, and, and older, whatever, I know all that I’m just saying he’s not like, some psychopath abuser or something you know, he’s, he’s fine, he’s-”

“A good guy.”

“A good guy,” Cass echoes. “Right.”

“Right,” Mal echoes back. He can practically feel the clap on his shoulder, a firm handshake of one of his parents’ colleagues. Good guy, that dad of yours, isn’t he?

Cass doesn’t look at him, just frowns at the guitar in his lap like he’s seeing something else, thumb brushing the strings without quite strumming. He plucks a single string and the sound reverberates in the quiet like a stone down a well.

Mal nods to it, suddenly desperate for any other topic. “Do you play?”

“Not really,” Cass says, screwing his nose up. Another dull pluck. “Bits and pieces I guess.” He looks up, half-expectant. “You do though?”

Mal blows his cheeks out. “Not in about a million years.” He absently reaches his hand out for the guitar at the same time as Cass absently offers it up to him. He dusts the body with the heel of his hand as he positions it against his chest. “Poor bloody thing’s been so neglected I’m surprised it’s in tune.”

“Pretty sure it’s not,” Cass says, tucking his hands under his thighs. “Tried to fix it but...”

Mal hums and makes one broad, open strum, only to wince at the clash of it. Definitely out of tune. But not as bad as it could be. He fiddles with the tension of the strings, tuning by ear. 

“Who’s Becks?” 

Mal’s stomach flips and he looks up, alarmed at the question. Cass searches his face before pointing to the body of the guitar, along the side, beneath, “The stickers.”

Mal exhales, knot in the middle of his gut loosening just a fraction. Right. Course.

“Old friend of mine,” he says. Old grief pangs in his chest like a second heartbeat, sure and steady. He goes back to tuning the last two strings. 

“She get a new guitar or something or she just didn’t want to play anymore?”

“No, she, um.” He breathes a soft, sad laugh, just to unwind the tension around his ribs. Just breathe. No big deal. Years old wound. Just say it, “She didn’t make it.”

“As in…?”

“As in she didn’t make it,” he repeats, looking up to give Cass a sad smile. “We were kids. Life was hard. She didn’t make it.”

Cass holds his gaze for a few moments, soft frown on his face as he processes what he’s being told. Mal can see the moment it clicks.

“Oh,” Cass says softly. “Sorry.”

Mal waves him off and goes back to tuning, “Don’t be. All good. Happened a long time ago.” He glances up to give what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “She’d be pissed at me, actually, that it’s so out of tune.”

For a few minutes there’s no sound in the room but the tuning of it. It sounds like a lonely thing, glad for company again. Or maybe Mal’s just projecting a little hard.

“Nice that she left it to you,” Cass offers up.

“Yeah. Well...” he goes to shrug it off and then glances across. He smiles. Cass would probably appreciate this story, actually. “She didn’t have a will exactly. I asked her parents if I could have it. That and a few other things at her place. Knick knacks. Presents I’d bought her. Nothing worth much but they meant something to me. But they hated my guts. Anything to keep me from her. Said no. But to be honest Becks hated their guts. So I figured the only fair thing to do was…”

He looks up, thumb hovering over the C string, and gives Cass a grin.

Cass’ brows shoot up and he laughs in surprise, “Shit, you stole it?”

“Just about, yeah. Had a whole plan. We used to sneak into each other's houses all the time so it wasn’t like it was new territory. Just break in, grab the guitar, go.” 

He can still see that house. Smell it. Remember the exact number of steps between the back fence and her bedroom window.

Cass prompts him, “But…?”

He sucks in a breath and sighs it out. “But when I got there, I didn’t need to bother. They’d put it out for hard rubbish. Hadn’t even bothered trying to sell the thing just… out on the nature strip next to a bedframe and a broken set of drawers.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence. And then Cass scoffs. “Fuckin’ hell…”

Mal smiles. The incredulity is kind of sweet. “But… Luckily, I saw it before collection. Saved it. Cleaned it up. She’d be chuffed you picked it up, actually. She loved teaching people.” He finishes tweaking the E string and picks the riff in Heartbreak Hotel to test the tuning. He passes it back to Cass, “Should be right for you now if you wanna have a proper play.”

But Cass’ hands are gripping tight to the edge of the bed, that same ready-to-bolt look to him he’d had when he’d first arrived. “I… was actually thinking I’d head off soon.”

Mal blinks, a little surprised. They’d talked over lunch about him maybe staying for a couple days.

But Cass has the reasons all ready, “I have some stuff still at Andrew’s. Clothes. And my wallet and stuff. And I was just thinking about it and I’d prefer to just… you know. Go and get it now before shit gets weird.”

“Sure,” Mal says. He feels like something is slipping between his fingers. Like trying to hold onto a rope that’s being taken by the tide.

“Or, you know,” Cass continues with a laugh, visibly jittery, putting the guitar to the side. “Before he puts it out for hard rubbish…”

Fuck the tide. Mal grabs the rope. “Would you like a lift?”

Cass pauses. That’s something, at least. Even if the next second he’s shaking his head, “Um, nah. All good. It’s not that far on the bus, and you’ve had a long day…”

Mal tries again, “Would it be easier if you had a lift?”

He hesitates. Chews his cheek. He runs his thumb down the top string of the guitar, just barely enough contact to make a sound. “...Yeah. Yeah, it would.” He can’t make eye contact and his voice is small but it doesn’t matter. He’s saying yes to help. That’s everything. “Please.”

“Too easy, then,” Mal says with a nod. “I’ll go grab my keys.”

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Beware clickbait accusations

Hi fandom, here's what happened yesterday: A reporter named Rachel Johnson, who is the sister to Boris Johnson and a big terfy supporter of JK Rowling, released a 4-part true crime podcast featuring two women accusing Neil Gaiman of SA. Yesterday. The day before the UK elections. This post explores the possible political links in more detail.

CW: this post is free of graphic details, but if you follow these links, there may be explicit descriptions of sex, kink, and bdsm, plus mentions of mental illness and suicidal thoughts.

I want to believe and support survivors, and I also want to base my thoughts and actions on facts. I thought the xitter livestream commentary from Not Becky for all 4 episodes was very insightful. There's also a first episode transcript without extra commentary. (Edit: released after I wrote this post: the full audio plus transcripts for all four episodes of the podcast are now available to download here, or you can read all four transcripts in your browser.) I have since concluded (pending more time to think and read and learn, or any new information, of course):

This seems like the worst kind of clickbait, an unjustified mess that will hurt everyone involved (except possibly a few politicians who might benefit somehow, we'll see). The evidence the "reporters" present directly contradicts their accusations. They're counting on people reading headlines and not digging any deeper.

They tried to make something sinister where there was apparently consent and a caring relationship. Have they exploited one or both of these women? S, in particular, is described as vulnerable and with a history of unspecified mental illness. They have all of the message history between S and Neil, and her messages make the sexy stuff between the two of them sound enthusiastically consensual. There are even messages (multiple!) where she specifically says everything was consensual. Here's one:

They're playing horror music in the background to try to make us feel horrified, even as S reassures us that things were consensual. It's emotional manipulation by the reporters.

The times S sounds upset during the interview are the times she talks about Neil leaving her behind or not paying attention to her. Not the times she talks about consent violations. Her stories during the interview are inconsistent, and they contradict her messages with Neil and with others. Maybe we'll get better information from a more reputable news source, or maybe not, I don't know. I also don't know why anyone who cares about her would have advised her to do this interview.

Then they tracked down lots of other women who know/have dated Neil and they all had glowing things to say, except one other lover from 20 years ago, K. She described some bad sex, and then pointed to a time in their 2-year relationship when she felt something wasn't consensual and he thought it was. And after their breakup, they continued to text and flirt, for decades.

This podcast "exposé" feels like explosive clickbait with political ramifications. The evidence here doesn't support a pattern of poor conduct so much as establish Neil as a fellow well-meaning human with imperfect judgement. That doesn't mean the accusations are all made up; intimate partner violence is complicated, and the responsibility for checking in and getting regular enthusiastic consent from partners is very real, especially when kink or bdsm are involved.

I don't know what the right balance is here between supporting survivors, thinking critically, assuming good intentions, and waiting for better information, but I feel confident that this podcast alone is not enough to condemn anyone aside from the irresponsible journalists who inflicted it on the rest of us.

PS/edit: I'm tagging my relevant posts (mostly reblogs) with #ineffable grief, and you can see all of them here.

[finniestoncrane]

What's a kink of each of the riddlers that you feel like you haven't really talked about?

More Riddler Kinks

Riddler Headcanons hooray, finally getting round to this one after the event!! it's a long one too oops... ok i am got INTO this. some of them i think i've mentioned before but i am so glad to put my silly little thoughts into more detail 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: so many potentially triggering kinks here, cnc, piss, free use, roleplay, rough sex, violence, monster fucking, nude photography

dano

i have written about it a LOT but he definitely has a thing for cnc/rape play

and with him, it comes from a space of feeling like he's not good enough, and follows his life's trajectory of having to take things he wants rather than wait patiently for them to come to him

he wants to be in control of a situation, something he's never had before in any aspect of life

something that allows him to feel like he's in charge, that he's got the power

and at the same time, it's so emotionally fulfilling for him to be trusted by someone to that extent

to know a partner is willing to allow themselves to be so vulnerable around him, to get to be so close and intimate with someone

to feel like he's someone you have actively chosen to trust and let him take part in something like that

and to speak to him like an intelligent adult while you cover rules and boundaries and safe-words

that's so healing for him to experience, and it only amplifies his sweet and adoring behaviour outside of your more intense bedroom sessions

plus, any excuse to offer you the most satisfactorily sickeningly sweet aftercare, that's what he's really after

arkham

i play with this man like he's a fucking doll honestly there's not a kink i wouldn't give him, but allow me to delve into my most recent fixation

because i'm giving him a piss kink and no one can stop me

i don't think it's so much about the piss for him, more about the mess and the sense of control over someone's behaviours and habits

definitely about the embarrassment and humiliation

because the minute you let yourself go, the minute you're vulnerable standing or sitting in front of him

bound by his rules to not interrupt him for bathroom breaks

knowing that any mess you make is your own fault

that's when he gets his kicks

and the ability to chastise and degrade you for making a mess of yourself and having very little self-control is an added benefit

telling you how ashamed you should be, while you can see the smug smile on his face and the growing tent at the front of his stupid cargo pants

i don't think he'd piss in you or on you though. as messy as he is i think even he knows standards of good practice when it comes to germs and such

(he's filthy, yes, but very picky over certain textures and substances, it's the autism)

plus the act of him defiling you would be too much, since this idiot harbours intense feelings of admiration and respect that he's too scared or embarrassed to admit to

gotham

i don't think i've gone into too much detail about his medical fetish, but he definitely has one

i mean, i did write that thing on the autopsy table... but anyway!

definitely veering towards the experimental side of medical roleplay

he'll get all of the correct gear on, nothing inherently sexual about it unless you're into that kind of thing

protective gear though, a smock, rubber gloves, maybe a mask

and you'll be expected to be fully nude, all of you exposed to him so that he can test the limits of each part of you

see how every square inch of your skin reacts to his touch

or to his various 'tools' that he's got, sterilised and prepared to work on you

there's no medical benefits to this, he's not aiming to fix you

but he is definitely good at making you feel much, much better than you did before you were laid down on his table

teased, torturous edging, new experiences and toys

until you're a shuddering mess, ready to be eased up for some aftercare before he cleans up for your next appointment

his desire to study you, to see what makes you tick and what makes you make the sweetest sounds is what motivates him here

and he will take rigorous and extensive notes during and afterwards

and then study them in his down time (or alone time)

telltale

corruption, for sure. like his whole personality revolves around being the best and greatest manipulator and schemer that ever was

so corrupting your innocence, real or roleplayed, gives him everything he wants from a sexual encounter

and in a relationship

it's not like he's 24/7 on with the whole "i am your master" thing

but it leeches into everyday life easily enough when you spend a lot of time in his company

any roleplay scenario where he can play an authoritative character while you are a weaker, more innocent position works for him

professor and student, master and servant, he's not beyond playing god and having you pretend to be a nun either, and there are more taboo pairings he's willing to try

there's often elements of bondage, dominance, spirit breaking, orgasm control

anything where he has the higher ground

and he can teach you and show you new and exciting, or scary, things

having you beg to show him the correct ways, to educate you, to give you a new experience, to touch you in a way no one else has

that's what gets him off for sure

twojar

100% is into breeding, and definitely barebacking

the idea of fucking you completely raw (pending your health checks. he's completely clean and fine, but you on the other hand... he needs the documents)

that's what he's most into, especially if he can incorporate some other kinks into the foreplay or actual sex

and then have the grand finale be painting your insides with his cum, letting you feel the warmth of him

but it has to end with you under him, whichever position you prefer the most he's not fussy

with his cock buried deep inside of you

cumming inside of you and holding himself there, keeping you pinned to him

thrusting a couple more times for good measure so he can be sure he's pumped his seed as deep as it can go

and holding you afterwards, telling you how good you took him

his perfect little breeding stock, his sweet little cumdump

filled up and ready to bear the fruits of his labour

btaa

there is no doubt in my mind that every waking minute that he isn't spending on schemes or building his little gadgets

is spent playing fantasy roleplay games, of any kind, on any platform, alone or in groups

he's a huge nerd! it's one of those things that he'll never outlive, once a big dweeb, always a big dweeb

so a big thing for him is roleplay, and specifically, roleplay where he can involve some monster fucking

he can either play the hero, slaying the beast and then saving the girl, who promptly rewards him with herself to use

or being the hero who sets out to defeat the creature and instead ends up fucking it

or let him be the monster and he'll show you how monstrous he could really be

as long as it involves preparation, dramatic reactions, practice and rehearsing, preferably a script with some room for improv

and, of course, the most extravagant and detailed costumes (accurate to the scenario or time period, obviously)

then he will be a very happy, and satisfied, boy

zero year

i haven't really talked about this but it's a huge one for me personally with him

but i think he's a big fan of free use obviously like he just screams it

loves nothing more than a sort of semi-permanent situation where you spend days completely naked and at his mercy

and add a bit of roleplay into it, maybe you're his live-in housekeeper

cleaning for him, cooking for him, washing him, feeding him

and whenever he feels like it, he can stick his dick in you

but you can't react to him unless he gives you permission

you gotta stand there, kneel there, sit there, lay there while he fucks you without making any sounds

and comitting to whatever task you were in the middle of when he decided to start going at you

i just think it would absolutely send him to the moon to know that when you're walking around naked, bending over in front of him

hanging on his every word and obeying his every command

he could also just decide to press his cock inside of you nonchalantly

unburied

he's literally devoutly into cuckoldery, but he's the bull

imagine watching your partner get railed by some ineffectual dweeb with a penchant for riddles

knowing that he's giving it to them with all he's got, making them scream in pleasure and shout out his name

making eye contact with him at some point

and having him wink at you? stick his tongue out? give you some finger guns?

all with the most smug, self-satisfied grin you've ever seen on a human being

and then to top it off, he's calling out sex-themed riddles?

and laughing at you when you don't get them right?

that's not something you can come back from

that changes someone, on several deep levels

and truthfully, that's the part that he likes the most

the emotional scarring on your ego, and the little stroke his gets

knowing he's so annoying that he's unforgettable, which would be the biggest crime to him

btas

i have these ideas about him that always revolve around something artsy or classy

and while i think he would be into some dorky roleplay (he's definitely pretending to be a minotaur, sorry)

i do, selfishly i suppose, think that he would be into body worshipping

specifically in the form of erotic photography

he'd be keen to take pictures of you, in poses, costumes, scenarios, roleplays

directing you, encouraging you, watching you loosen up and let yourself go

whatever you were comfortable with, that's key here

and he'd cherish seeing your face afterwards when he showed you the final products

knowing he'd captured everything about you that he loves and finds attractive

pictures that he'll keep if you want, or destroy

it doesn't matter to him in the end really

he takes them because he thinks of you as his muse, the act of photographing you, of being allowed the vulnerability

to create with you in mind

that's what he finds most erotic and exciting and ultimately, an expression of his love and adoration for you

young justice

if you managed to get him to find the courage to admit to it, you'd learn his favourite thing is uh...

well... just because it plays into his... awkwardness, and shyness, and inexperience...

just... it makes sense that he has a virginity kink

but interestingly, it goes both ways

while he's so keen to have you show him the moves, and pretend to be inducting him into your little black book

teaching him how to touch you or how to move his hips

he's equally interested in switching the roles up a bit

it's a challenge for him, sure, but he's the riddler! there's no challenge he can't live up to

even if that means weeks of practice and lessons with an acting coach to get past the initial nerves

it would all be worth it to pretend that he was confident, dominant, and knew what he was doing

that and the satisfaction of taking something from you, something important

the honour in knowing he's your first (or at least pretending)

and the lasting impression he might have on you for that

that's the kind of idea that has him rutting into you like a fuckin beast

[aemehhh]

Regrets and mistakes are memories made- Jotaro x Reader

CW: Canon typical violence, swearing (like, a lot.), blood, deep wounds, hurt, angst, mentions of PTSD, mentions of depression and a panic attack is described in great detail, detailed description of character death, heartbreak. Also, spoiler warning for parts 3-6!

Wc: ~9.5k

A/N: Hello everybody! After I made a poll on here a lil while ago, people voted for a Jotaro fic and of course, your wish is my command.

First off, I want to apologize for any grammar mistakes; english isn't my first language. Also, this is my first fic, so any criticism is appreciated <3

Second of all, the story is made with a fem! Reader in mind, so the pronouns she/her are used. Also, the Reader is a Stand user! The name of the Stand is based on the Song "Head In The Clouds" by Hayd. Please give the Song a listen when you're done reading! :) Link for the song here: https://youtu.be/_aYQZoC3YCY?si=I8hSXMTYTzBmwzXC

Lastly, I am no mental health professional. Every description of depression and panic attacks stems from my own experiences as well as research I did. So, if you can't identify with Readers symptoms, I apologize. I also apologize if Jotaro is OOC. I still hope you have fun reading this story!

Enjoy~!

Love sucks. Like, it really, really fucking sucks.

Okay, no, it doesn't. But it kind of does too. It doesn't suck, when you see how you bring a smile to your partner's face with just your presence. It doesn't suck when you kiss the person you love or feel their touch or their warmth, and your heart just bursts with happiness. It doesn't suck, when your partner has a smile reserved for you and only you. When you whisper sweet nothings into each other's ear, fall asleep tangled in an intimate embrace, and then wake up to your beloved's face in the morning.

 

No, love really doesn't suck when that is the case. In fact, it can be considered to be truly beautiful.

 

It is beautiful when it is reciprocated. And that is where it really does start to fucking suck.

 

You met Jotaro Kujo in your very first year of high school. Jotaro was your classmate back then, and he always sat silently by the window. There was always that bizarre aura to Jotaro, when you look back. He has always had his typical, grumpy demeanor that practically screamed, "Leave me the fuck alone." His appearance spoke for itself. Although he was extremely handsome, having high cheekbones, a nearly perfect nose, the most beautiful blue eyes that have ever graced the earth's presence, as well as gorgeous, black curls; the most common expression on his face was a scowl. Jotaro also had more of a delinquent type of style when it came to how he wore his hair and uniform, and if that wasn't enough, he also told each and every single person who approached him to fuck off. So, he wasn't just a loner; he was kind of a freak, at least in your eyes. Which is precisely why you never bothered to interact with him, even when you became classmates and your assigned desk was next to his.

 

However, the two of you became friends in the long run. Though, to be frank, the way it happened really was bizarre.

 

It started at the beginning of your second year in high school. Unlike Jotaro, you weren't a loner by any means. On the contrary, although you weren't the most popular girl in school, you were social enough to have a close circle of friends that you hung out with regularly, and you didn't need more than that.

 

While the two of you never really spoke to one another, Jotaro was relieved that you were in the seat next to his. You were one of the only girls in the school who wasn't screeching in his ear whenever he walked by. Hell, you didn't even interact with him unless you were forced to by your teacher because of a dumb group assignment.

 

A group project was actually the reason why he started taking notice of you.

 

You two were working on a project with two other classmates. Jotaro was mostly silent, only saying something if absolutely necessary, which wasn't out of the norm for him. He looked out of the window with a bored expression, waiting for the next time he could smoke a much-needed cigarette. At the same time, you were in a heated discussion with a classmate about some stupid argument that needed to be brought up in a debate as part of the project. That classmate had completely disagreed with anything you said, not because he had good arguments, but because that fucker wanted to get on your nerves, and you knew it. You and that asshole were at it for about five minutes, and you were getting increasingly angry when, all of a sudden, the guy just magically agreed with your opinion. More or less. The guy claimed that that exact thought—your argument—just came into his head randomly. Jotaro noticed there was something weird about you at that moment. There was a shift of energy in the air when the guy just suddenly agreed with you, and it rubbed him in the wrong way.

 

Jotaro kept an eye on you after that. He noticed it happening like this a handful of times, where someone wouldn't agree with you for a while, then there would be a sort of shift, and all of a sudden, they'd agree with you. It bothered him real bad now.

 

Jotaro got his "evil spirit" soon after and was arrested. After his grandpa came to Japan and explained the concept of Stands to him, as well as the looming threat over their heads, a 100-year-old vampire named DIO, Jotaro suspected that you might have a Stand as well. After all, according to his grandpa, Stand users attract other Stand users.

 

Jotaro was right with his assumption.

 

You discovered you had a Stand during Jotaro's battle with Noriaki Kakyoin. You were in the nurse's office because you wanted to ask for some painkillers when the nurse, possessed by what you would later find out to be Kakyoin's Stand, attacked Jotaro and two other students. Something within you awoke in that moment, and a humanoid gray ghost came up behind the nurse, whispering in her ear that she would no longer attack the students. Afterwards, Kakyoin's Stand, Hierophant Green, came out of the nurse's body as if in a trance, and Jotaro's own Stand beat Kakyoin to a pulp.

 

Per his request, you followed Jotaro home that day as he carried Kakyoin, whom you discovered to be controlled by DIO. there. From there on, you learned about Stands from Jotaro's grandfather, Mr. Joseph Joestar, as well as his friend Muhammad Avdol, both of whom were Stand users.

 

On that day, you also named your Stand.

 

"So, from what it seems, your Stand has the ability to manipulate someone's thoughts and actions by whispering your command into their ear. This creates a haze that manipulates the opponent's head in such a manner that they think your command was their own thought. Therefore, making them take that action with no question asked. That is quite a useful ability to have." Avdol said while grabbing his chin in thought and looking at you.

 

"I guess now it makes sense why people magically agree with me when I fight with them, huh?" You scratched the back of your head, letting out an awkward and nervous laugh. All of this was just.. bizarre. Stands, a 100-year-old vampire in Egypt? Yeah. Not something that is usually happening in day-to-day life.

 

"So, got a name in mind? You can't just call it a ghost." Mr. Joestar, who insisted you call him Joseph, said with a grin.

 

You looked at the floor for a moment, pondering. Then you had one in mind.

 

"Hmm.. "Head in the Clouds" sounds pretty fitting, doesn't it?." You replied to the older man with a smile.

 

The true adventure began when Jotaro's angel of a mother, Holy, became ill from her Stand's power. Her soul was too kind, too gentle to be able to keep up with it. Avdol examined Holy and predicted that she would only have about 50 days until her body succumbed to her Stand's power and she would die. Mr. Joestar, who was beyond devastated and angry, called some doctors from the renowned Speedwagon Foundation (apparently this guy has connections everywhere in the fucking world) over to look after Holy.

 

Avdol, Joseph, Jotaro, and Noriaki, who was now freed from DIO's curse, planned to take the 50-day trip to Egypt in order to save Holy and defeat DIO. You were asked to join the others. And although hesitant at first, you agreed to tag along.

 

Your parents were contacted by the Speedwagon Foundation a few hours later, and they told them you got a spot in their international exchange program for Japanese students (you allegedly applied months ago). You had a bit of explaining to do that night, but they had no reason to think you were lying, so they let you go.

 

You got close to everyone on the trip. You even had a new guy join the group; a large, French man with silver hair called Jean Pierre Polnareff. He was quite a silly man, sometimes even a bit of a perv, but he was serious when he needed to be. The group sort of became a family to you at some point. Mr. Joestar, who insisted you call him Joseph, was acting like a father to Jotaro, Noriaki and you. Even when he was annoying at times, he kept his heart in the right place and made sure everyone was fed and doing as well as possible. You saw where Holy got her kind heart from. Avdol, although he was gone for some time, recovering from his shot wound given to him by a Stand user, was a very interesting and charming man. You and the others often listened to him talk about his travels all over the world and all the different people he met before.

 

Noriaki, Jotaro and you were the closest to one another, though. You guys formed a close bond that grew with each passing day. While you were indifferent towards Jotaro in the beginning, mainly because you didn't care to bother a person who very obviously wasn't keen on getting attention, you had learned to read him over the course of the trip. His body language and the way his eyes looked in different situations made it fairly easy for you to know what mood Jotaro was in. Take it from growing up in a home where you'd have to guess what your parent's mood was based on their footsteps alone, but your analyzing of his behavior made it easy to figure him out. Jotaro had a cold demeanor, yes, but he was also undeniably loyal, and he was worried deeply about his mother and friends. He protected those close to him with everything he could, and, not to mention, he did have a kickass sense of humor sometimes. You noticed little things about Jotaro too. You took note of how his face started sweating when he got stressed, his right nostril twitching slightly as well, or how he pulled his hat over his eyes when he got flustered or embarrassed, covering that up with his signature mutter of "good grief". You also started looking up to Jotaro the more you witnessed him fight, with Star Platinum's pure strength being something truly out of this world.

 

And while you weren't the most effective when it came to pure strength and close-hand combat, your Stand was strong enough to defend you most times, and your mind-manipulation saved the team's asses plenty as well. Your strategic and quick-thinking skills were impressive, and similar to Noriaki, you were able to come up with plans at the speed of light to figure out when an enemy Stand user was scheming something. This helped you bond with Noriaki, too. Both of you quickly became the team's strategists.

 

You and the guys basically bonded over beating ass. That's a given, though, considering the mission you and the gang were on.

 

You remember that one night, after you guys defeated the Sun. Jotaro, Noriaki, and you were sitting around a fire while Joseph and Polnareff were asleep. Avdol was still out of commission because of the shot wound, and Iggy, the dog Stand user that would later join you, wasn't there yet either. Or was he? (You aren't sure anymore.).

 

The three of you were talking. Well, kinda, it was mostly you and Noriaki talking about an ongoing manga that came out after a video game series, while Jotaro sat and listened to you, occasionally throwing in a comment or two. It was easy talking to the guys, maybe because all of you were the same age. That night, the three of you fell asleep by the fire with a light mood in the air. Nowadays, you look back on small moments like these fondly, a warmth embracing your heart.

 

But it hasn't always been that way.

 

"Death is inevitable. We all die one day."

 

Avdol muttered these words a few nights before he would die. The group of you were in a hotel room, most likely Joseph's. Iggy was asleep on the bed, Jotaro was smoking a cigarette with Polnareff on the balcony, and Noriaki was still in the hospital. You, Avdol, and Joseph sat at the table and drank coffee. You started the conversation. The injuries everyone, including you, got during the trip were heavy on your mind.

 

"Do you guys ever worry about dying here? Like, at all?" You broke the comfortable silence that was in the air. Your anxiety gnawed at your heart.

 

"Where did that question come from?" Joseph looked at you and laughed; today you know that it was a strained laugh, uncomfortable, even. Avdol only looked at you with a raised brow.

 

Joseph laughing made your 17-year-old self feel insecure about your feelings. You averted your gaze to your hands and started fiddling with them. "I.. I don't know. To be honest, I've just been thinking about death a lot these past few days, I guess. Day 50 is about three days away as well.." you hesitated. "I'm just overthinking. Forget I said anything." There was a long stretch of silence that followed until Avdol spoke up.

 

"Death is inevitable. Each one of us is going to die one day." Avdol placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a light squeeze before continuing. "I'm not scared of dying, no. If I live my life to the fullest, I will never have regrets, and if I have no regrets, I can die without worries. It's the only way to fight the fear of death, and let me give you this piece of advice; it's how you live a happier life."

 

Joseph cleared his throat. The topic made him uncomfortable; you know that today. "You know, you're still young." He started. "I don't think you could die without regrets, even if you tried. You're still in high school; you have the whole world to see. I don't plan on letting you kids die, and neither am I letting Holy die. It's not your time yet."

 

He was right. It wasn't your time. Neither was it Noriaki's, Avdol's, or Iggy's. But unlike the aforementioned, you were lucky enough to survive the battle against DIO.

 

To be frank, you barely made it. DIO targeted you after he killed Noriaki. And just before finishing you off completely, Joseph attacked him. If it weren't for him, you'd have been mush on the sidewalk.

 

You were hospitalized for about a month and a half after the battle. Your parents were told you were in a car accident with your "research group". In reality, DIO dropped a car onto your body. Your stand protected you well enough from dying, but you still had grave injuries. Part of your lower spine and hip got crushed. They performed surgery, added some metal plates and some other high-tech stuff to your bones so you would be able to walk again, and you also had to get a kidney transplant. There was some more stuff to it, but you never bothered to remember what they did in detail. The memory stung too much.

 

None of your physical pain could even compare to what you felt emotionally, anyway.

 

Survivor's guilt honestly ate you up alive. It gnawed on your heartstrings and burned as if someone poured a bottle of chili sauce on your heart and lungs. You felt even more horrible when you couldn't attend Noriaki's funeral. Joseph was the only one to go. Jotaro felt too guilty to be there.

 

Speaking of, Jotaro frequently visited you in the hospital.

 

You would've thought that Jotaro wanted to forget all about the trip and bury it—and you—in the past. But no, he often came by. He paid more attention in class, you noticed, since he always brought you notes. He also helped you study.

 

You avoided the topic of the trip like the plague at first. Until you couldn't.

 

When you got out of the hospital, Jotaro and you spoke much more at school since you joined him on the roof during his smoke breaks (you picked up the habit as well, not your proudest moment). So, it was weird to not see you at school that day.

 

Jotaro has felt uneasy a few times in his life. That day was one of them. He knew that your parents weren't going to be home for another two weeks; you told him that they were on a month-long vacation overseas, which in turn meant that you'd been alone for a while. He would never have admitted it out loud back then, but he was worried about you, especially because, as he came to find out, you didn't call in sick that day either.

 

He got even more worried when you didn't open the door. He rang the bell at least six times and knocked for three solid minutes until he got sick of it. He used Star Platinum to open your door from the inside and let himself in. He was panicking, picturing a bloody mess in your room. He thought, maybe that one pawn of DIO's, that DIO wrote about in his diary, hunted you down to finish you off and get revenge. He pictured blood, a corpse—the most grotesque image you could think of—and his heart pumped harder with every step he took towards your room.

 

He busted your door down when he walked in. It might not have been graceful, but fuck it. He blamed the adrenaline later on.

 

The first thing Jotaro saw was shattered glass on the floor. It looked like it was a mirror once. The next things were your school supplies that were scattered everywhere, as well as dirt and a destroyed flower pot. Your wardrobe apparently joined the mess too. Its broken, wooden remains adorning the ground, and a lot of your clothes were at the center of it. If it hadn't been for your cowering form in the very back corner of the room, Jotaro would have thought you'd been robbed.

 

That night, you remember, they appeared in your dream. They, as in, your friends who didn't survive the trip. You were all meeting up in Jotaro's garden, and everyone was a little older. It was fun; it felt warm; it felt like home. There was laughter coming from Joseph and Avdol; they were laughing at Iggy and Polnareff, who were fighting as usual. Noriaki was helping Holy pour tea into everyone's cup, and you and Jotaro were on the side, smoking a cigarette.

 

That's how you knew it was a dream; you were smoking. You only started after the Egypt trip, much to your doctor's disappointment.

 

It was a beautiful dream. And it sucked. It sucked because it wasn't reality. It sucked because Iggy, Avdol, and Noriaki were dead, and they were never coming back.

 

When you woke up that day, you almost couldn't get out of bed. Your bed was comfortable; it was safe. Your room was safe. Until it didn't feel safe anymore.

 

The dream didn't trigger the breakdown. It was stupid (a comment your therapist would scold you for), actually. It was a dog barking in your neighbor's garden. This past week, you noticed that your neighbors got a new puppy. Also, guess what? Of course, the fucking puppy had to be black and white. During that time, you repressed all memories of the group, apart from when they appeared in your dream. However, for some fucking dumbass reason, that dog just brought everything back.

 

Your chest tightened in that moment. You knew the feeling of having to cry, and although you didn't want to, the tears just came. Usually, that wouldn't be a problem. You could wipe the tears, take a breath, and go about your day. That day, you couldn't.

 

Everything made you angry. You were extremely frustrated, and when you looked into the mirror, you didn't see yourself; all you saw was failure. You saw yourself as an utter, embarrassing failure. A mess that couldn't protect your friends for the life of you. The sight pissed you off. You grabbed the mirror and smashed it on the ground; the glass was in pieces on your floor. When you turned around, you saw your desk, your homework from the day prior still being there. Fuck it, fuck school, fuck every single thing. You didn't deserve it. Why did you get to do your homework when Noriaki, who should have been able to do it, was now a rotting corpse inside of an ugly casket with a huge ass hole in his chest? Fuck no. You threw it all on the ground, enraged that you would even have the nerve to go about your life normally. You throwing your homework on the ground also caused your flower pot to smash into pieces, joining the mess. While you were at it, you thought, there was a polaroid of you and three of your friends from school that was taken during the last summer festival in your town. It was hung up on your closet door. You were smiling in the picture, holding up a peace sign with one hand and a small fan with the other. Just who the fuck did you think you were to believe you deserved any sort of fun? You threw your closet onto the ground as well, the wood cracking as it hit the floor, coating your clothes with wooden splinters.

 

At the same time, you couldn't stop crying. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter what you did. Not only that, your usually silent hiccups turned into full-blown sobs, and your sobs started turning into screams. Your chest hurt, and it became difficult to breathe. You couldn't take a deep breath anymore; and to be honest, you weren't even sure if you were able to take a regular breath. Whenever you tried, a heartbroken sob would interrupt your attempt. Your inability to breathe made your heart pump faster in your chest, and it hurt. Everything hurt: your throat, your chest, your head, your hands. You were trembling but sweating, as if you ran a marathon; simultaneously, you felt cold as if you sat naked in fucking snow. You didn't know that it was a panic attack back then, you found that out when you went to therapy a few months later. At that moment, however, you felt as though you were dying.

 

"You're alive." Jotaro muttered when he saw you crouched in the corner that was opposite to your bed.

 

"I wish I wasn't." You replied with a hoarse voice.

 

"I know." was his reply as he sat down next to you on the ground. Jotaro usually never sat down on the ground.

 

You sat in silence until nighttime that day. He never left your side. And while he didn't hug you or tell you that everything would be okay, you felt safe.

 

You guys started talking about Egypt after that incident. Jotaro basically dragged you out of your broken-down room and to his place. Holy didn't ask questions for once when she saw you, which Jotaro appreciated.

 

That night, you opened up about how you felt about everything. Looking back, you know that it must have been really fucking hard for Jotaro to listen. Even though he acted like it didn't affect him that much, nowadays, you know how Jotaro felt, and still feels, about Egypt.

 

Weirdly enough, the trauma made you two bond even more than the entire Egypt trip. Your therapist says that is because the two of you share a traumatic experience that not many people can relate to.

 

Oh, yeah, your therapist. Jotaro told Joseph about your panic attack, who, in turn, made you go to the best therapist he could find in Japan. Your first therapist retired about ten years ago; now you have another one. Joseph, funnily enough, still pays for it, even though you're more than capable of footing the bill yourself. That senile old man forgets every single thing on this planet but somehow never forgets to pay that bill every month.

 

Your therapist got the same story your parents did: a car accident with your research group. Three of your squad members died; you got critically injured; yada yada. They helped you, though. Ever since you started, you have learned to deal with your emotions better. You also haven't destroyed your room since going.

Back to the past and how you and Jotaro bonded, though. Not only did you smoke cigarettes together during your lunch breaks at school, you met up a lot in private. You hung out and read manga together in silence. Often times you also played video games, a habit you two picked up after Noriaki died. Noriaki loved video games.

 

You learned to appreciate Jotaro a lot. You often stayed over at his place and learned about some of the things he was passionate about. Contrary to popular belief at school, Jotaro was extremely intelligent and started taking his studies seriously after Egypt. Often times, he was even top of the class when it came to his exams. He was also super into marine life, something you noticed when you visited his room for the first time. When you asked him to tell you about it, he didn't shut up for about two hours. You've never heard so many words come out of Jotaro's mouth, like, ever.

 

And while you were oblivious to it at first, he slowly started to occupy your thoughts.

 

It came gradually, your crush on Jotaro. At first, it was just you missing him on days you weren't hanging out together. Then, your heartbeat picked up when you spoke to him or saw him. You started to feel giddy when you met up and you started dreaming of him.

 

It was super fucking embarrassing.

 

But it also felt super fucking good to love Jotaro. You weren't going to say shit, though. Ever.

 

Your dynamic never changed. You and Jotaro were practically glued at the hip at some point. It was obvious that you were going to follow Jotaro to the USA for college when he proposed that he wanted to study marine biology in Florida.

 

When you and him went, you got an apartment from Joseph as a gift. The two of you were supposed to be roommates all throughout college. And, honestly, you hoped to be roommates for the rest of your life.

 

It was fun being roommates. It really was. Freshly eighteen and graduated, the two of you entered your apartment and lived to the fullest. You cooked together, watched movies, played video games, and, of course, you were there for each other when it was needed.

 

Even though the two of you were in therapy, night terrors were still frequent enough at that time. It was always the same pattern. One of you would wake up from the nightmare, wake the other up to talk and then you would go into the living room and talk about it, or just cry.

 

One of these nights was also the first time Jotaro hugged you.

 

Jotaro was the one with a night terror that time. The two of you were sat on the couch in the living room as he talked to you about Noriaki appearing in his dreams. You listened, as you usually did, and that was all he needed. He knew you understood, and he knew you were there. This exact stability gave both of you comfort. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and just held you. He didn't say anything, and you didn't think he needed to.

 

Although, looking back, you definitely interpreted that hug wrong. While it made your heart flutter, to Jotaro, it was nothing more than showing appreciation.

 

Jotaro introduced you to his girlfriend about three years after the two of you moved to the US. She was a lovely girl, blonde, perfect figure, beautiful face and a disgustingly sweet personality. All in all; she was the perfect package, and she looked fucking perfect next to your perfect, perfect Jotaro. Shit.

 

You wish you could say you hated her guts, but you couldn't.

 

You couldn't hate her, because Jotaro loved her. He loved her more than words could describe, and you knew it. You knew from his eyes, from his body language and from the way he talked about her.

 

Oh, and if all of that wasn't enough, he got her pregnant about a year after they got together, and the two of them got married in the same year (her parents insisted—they were very religious). If you look at their wedding pictures, you could see the bump under her dress. If you look at the wedding pictures again, you'll see yourself standing next to Jotaro with a big smile on your face. You're a great actress, you've got to give yourself that credit.

 

You moved out of the apartment about a month before Jotaro's daughter was born. They needed the space, and you didn't want to trouble the newlyweds with moving, so you sucked it up and left the apartment you called home for three years. Joseph was generous, as you'd come to notice. He had a single-bedroom apartment that he gifted you, and he claimed that it wouldn't feel right to him if you had to rent, especially as a college student. You took it, obviously.

 

Jolyne was a beautiful little girl. Jotaro made you her godmother; no questions asked. After he got married and had a kid, you'd think the two of you would lose touch, but no. Jotaro made sure to call you at least once a day and insisted on weekly meetups. You don't know if that was because he got so used to you that he couldn't live without your presence or because he knew that solitude made you spiral mentally, but you appreciated his efforts nonetheless. It felt good to be around Jotaro, even if it hurt to see him live a life you've been fantasizing of having with him.

 

Most importantly, however, you were a rock in Jotaro's life that he couldn't live without, and that feeling was mutual. Your therapist would call it an unhealthy attachment, but neither of you cared. You needed each other close.

 

"You're stressed." Your eyes locked with Jotaro's just a moment prior. The blue hue in them was as bright as ever, but his expression, the small furrow of his brow, and the slight twitch of his left nostril gave him away.

 

"Fucking figured that out from just a look? Good grief." He sighed as he averted his gaze. Jotaro couldn't pull his hat down to hide his embarrassment, as he would usually do. Ever since he got together with his wife, she asked him to take it off when they were home.

 

"I've lived with you for years, Jotaro. I can even figure out when you're about to shit your pants because you had a fucking McDonald's milkshake. Spit it out; what's bothering you?"

 

"She has the birthmark. I.. Fuck, I can't even sleep anymore." Jotaro and you were sitting on his balcony while you were taking a smoke. He stopped that habit before Jolyne was born, but picked it back up a few months later. He rubbed his temple as he closed his eyes.

 

"You're scared that this pawn of DIO's, that he wrote about in his diary, is gonna hunt her down one day, huh?" You replied, your eyes still locked on his form.

 

"I am. Yeah. Fucking terrified, actually. I never would've thought I'd become a softie like this."

 

"That's the parental instinct, Jotaro. It's love. You understand your mom a little better now, huh?"

 

"I do. I was a fucking bitch to her back then."

 

"You still are a bitch, you know?" You joked, putting out your now-finished cigarette.

 

"Shut the fuck up." He shook his head, though his lips were curled in a very small smile. He did this more often, ever since Jolyne was born.

 

"You know damn well you don't want me to shut up."

 

"You're right. I don't."

 

It was a Saturday night in 1999 when Jotaro rang you out of your sleep to tell you to join him on a trip back to Japan. He had to pay his uncle a visit. Yeah, uncle. Apparently, Joseph cheated on Suzie Q with a college student back in the early eighties. The Kujo/Joestar family was sort of a mess for a while afterwards.

 

The person you felt the most sorry for was Josuke, the kid. He was pulled into all of this for no reason.

 

Jotaro asked you to join him because he "needed your assistance" to track some enemy stand users who used an arrow that turned other people into stand users. You knew that he didn't need your help, but he wanted to get you out of your house. You remember that you felt like shit at that time, because your long-term boyfriend broke up with you. His reasoning was that he didn't feel like he was the love of your life and he wasn't wrong about that. You loved him, you really did, but he wasn't Jotaro. The love of your life would forever be Jotaro, no matter how many people you tried to date as a desperate attempt to dull the ache that your heart was consumed by every day. And, of course, you accepted Jotaro's offer to go together. You always would.

 

Morioh was an experience, to say the least.

 

Not only were there more Stand users than you'd ever seen in your life, it was also a strangely wholesome journey.

Josuke was a great kid, and so were his friends. The bond between everyone really warmed your heart, and you were happy that you got to be part of it. Although you had to admit that you certainly weren't prepared to find and fight an actual serial killer, who was, of course, a Stand user as well. Looking back at it, though, the kids were very reliable, Josuke almost defeated that Kira guy all by himself after all.

 

Josuke, Okoyasu, and Koichi also caused some embarrassing tension between you and Jotaro at some point.

 

"Ya know, it's actually super cute." Josuke grinned at you.

 

"What is?" You paused and set down your coffee cup. It was your last few days in Morioh, and you were at a café the kids frequented. Jotaro and you sat next to each other while Koichi, Okoyasu, and Josuke sat across from you. Joseph was also there with Shizuka, the baby he and Josuke found.

 

"The two of you. Why didn't y'all tell us you were married?" Okoyasu commented with a pout.

 

Jotaro and you exchanged looks with a raised brow. Then it clicked: Jotaro was wearing his ring.

 

"It's because we're not married." Jotaro deadpanned.

 

"Oh." All three of them got quiet. "We just.. We thought you were because of, uhm.. the ring. Sorry." Josuke averted his gaze.

 

"Don't worry, Josuke. I mean, the big, mean guy doesn't really talk much about his family. Do you guys even know he has a kid?"

 

You successfully changed the subject by bringing up Jolyne back then. The guys drilled Jotaro to tell them everything, and although he was never a big talker, he did talk about Jolyne. He adored her; everyone knew so. Jotaro's eyes lit up just a tiny bit whenever he could tell people about her. The subject change allowed you to stay for a few minutes before you made up an excuse to leave the guys. When you left the café, you immediately went to the cemetery. Coincidentally, Morioh was Noriaki's hometown and also his resting place.

 

You had never mustered up the courage to visit Noriaki's grave before. It felt weird, looking at the stone with his name, but regardless, you sat down in front of the grave and spoke to him. To anyone else, you probably looked like a maniac. You couldn't tell anyone else about your feelings for Jotaro and you figured Noriaki would enjoy an update on your life after twelve years, even if it was sort of depressing as fuck.

 

It felt liberating, telling Noriaki everything. Even if he wasn't physically in front of you, you felt as though he was right there, listening to every single word you had to say, and by the end of your monologue, you were crying.

 

What you didn't expect was Joseph standing next to you after you had been crying like a bitch at Noriaki's grave for a while. You jolted when he said your name.

 

"You know, the only reason you two didn't end up together was Jolyne, right? He loves you, but he's terrified of losing you." His older, raspy voice spoke softly.

 

"How would you even know that?" You questioned the old man, but you didn't make eye contact with him. Your eyes were glued to Noriaki's gravestone.

 

"Because I know what it looks like when you're someone's whole world. You're his world, and he can't lose that. Being your friend is easier than taking the risk of the two of you ever breaking up in the future."

 

Joseph's words made you cry again. They hurt even more than if Jotaro ever rejected you personally, because they meant that it was hopeless. No matter what, you could never, ever be with him.

 

Jotaro got divorced from his wife in 2002, three years after Morioh. By that time, you were a successful lawyer in a big firm, while Jotaro was a big researcher in marine biology; he even got a doctorate. You and him hadn't seen each other in a month at that point. Both of you were busy; Jotaro was often on trips for either the Speedwagon foundation, because of possible clues regarding that one friend of DIO's, or he was doing actual research regarding his job. You were busy because you thought that drowning yourself in work would help you move on from him. Spoiler alert; it didn't.

 

The way you found out about the divorce was when Jotaro showed up at your doorstep one day with a big suitcase in his hand.

 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You'd gotten home half an hour prior, so you were still dressed in your work attire.

 

"We filed for divorce. Can I move in for a while?" He asked, though; he had already made his way into your house. He knew you wouldn't say no.

 

And you didn't. You guys lived together for about five years after he moved in. He even paid half of the bills, and you almost felt like you did when you guys were still living together in college.

 

Living together with Jotaro was easy; it was warm, and it also fucking sucked. You couldn't avoid your feelings when the two of you were together all the time. Everything felt too fucking domestic, and it made you want to cry.

 

Jotaro was the perfect roommate; he made you guys breakfast whenever he wasn't on a trip. He cleaned up the house when you were working late; he went grocery shopping. Fuck, he even knew when you would be on your period and made sure you were stacked up on pads and painkillers. Since you only had one big bathroom in your rather small house, he kept the door open while he shaved his stubble, so you could brush your teeth and do your makeup for the day. You guys were basically acting like a married couple, except for the legal status and the romantic aspect.

 

You noticed that Jotaro wasn't truly happy, though, and you knew why. After getting divorced, Jotaro essentially abandoned Jolyne. The reason why Jotaro and his wife got divorced was because his ex was tired of him rarely being home. She lost feelings for him along the way and gave him the divorce papers about two days before he showed up at your doorstep. The divorce didn't hit Jotaro as hard, he told you. What did hit him was that he didn't see Jolyne much. They maybe saw one another once every two or three months. You felt sorry for her; the divorce hurt that beautiful girl and your heart broke for her. You visited Jolyne and her mother a lot, even after the divorce, because you wanted her to still have a small constant in her life. You supported her whenever you could. However, Jotaro asked you to not bring her to the house. He started distancing himself from her, because he was growing anxious the older she got. DIO's friend and the diary never left Jotaro's mind and he simply didn't want Jolyne to be in danger. You understood, so, slowly, you started distancing yourself too.

 

It was 2007 when Jotaro asked you to move back to Japan with him. Jolyne, who was 14 at the time, got arrested for car theft. Jotaro pulled the harshest dick move he could and told his ex-wife that he wasn't going to help her bail Jolyne out and that he got a job offer as a professor at Tokyo University, which he accepted. His ex didn't even have time to cuss him out before he hung up the phone. Jotaro had ultimately abandoned his daughter, and even if he tried to play tough, he was devastated because he didn't want to leave her behind.

 

Why did you know that? Well, Jotaro still had night terrors. So, of course, your old tradition of going to the living room to talk it out had been picked up again. Jotaro hated himself for abandoning Jolyne, but he kept saying that he'd rather cut all ties with her to keep her safe than watch her die in front of him. You agreed with him. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself either, if you were in his shoes.

 

Of course you agreed to follow him back to Japan; you'd follow him anywhere he went anyway; he didn't even need to ask. Home is where he is. Even if it meant quitting your job at the law firm.

 

You were more at ease in Japan anyway. It's home. Plus, you got to visit Josuke and the others in Morioh more often, and, of course, Noriaki's grave. The kids grew up a lot in the years you haven't seen them. Josuke got his doctorate to become a surgeon, Koichi worked as a criminal psychologist, and Okoyasu got a job as a police officer. Oh, and Koichi and Yukako got engaged. Yeah, they certainly weren't kids anymore.

 

When you moved back, Jotaro and you decided to move in together again. It proved useful with the bills, and you got used to one another's presence anyway. You definitely weren't complaining about spending more time with him. After he accepted the position as a professor, he had more time on his hands compared to when he worked in research. He was still trying to hunt down DIO's little buddy, though. Still, it wasn't as bad as before, and he was home a lot more.

 

You got a new job in the American Consulate of Japan about six months after moving back with Jotaro. It was pretty boring, but the bills got paid. During work, you always looked forward to the evenings when you got home, because usually Jotaro would have a meal prepared for the two of you. You started eating dinner together every night after some time. It was always one of you waiting for the other one to get home, then you would heat up the food and eat together, either in front of the TV, binging a show you liked, or you sat at the dinner table, where you would talk about anything and everything. It was nice seeing Jotaro let lose even if it was just a tiny bit.

 

It was about four months after moving to Japan when you and Jotaro began implementing a "besties day". It honestly was just a synonym for a date night, if you think back to it. The two of you would either go for a walk, go on a small road trip, or have dinner at a nice restaurant, and, at some point down the line, the energy between the two of you shifted. He started to put his arm around your shoulder while you'd watch a movie, and you'd play with his hand sometimes. You fell asleep on the couch  so often that you guys just decided to sleep in the same bed and set up a TV in Jotaro's bedroom, your own bedroom basically turned into a room where you kept your clothes, nothing more.

 

It was on one of those evenings when you almost confessed your love to Jotaro.

 

You remember that the two of you were watching Zoolander on Jotaro's bed. He had his arm around your shoulder, and you were cuddled up to his side, his arm a heavy but welcome weight on your body. Jotaro was caressing your back as he stared at the TV, and his face got illuminated beautifully by the light of the TV. While Jotaro focused on the hilarious movie that played, your eyes were solely set on him. You took in how he had a few bags under his eyes, signaling that he was tired, and he wore his hair shorter compared to when you were teens, but the haircut complimented his face perfectly. From the side, his jawline and nose stood out to you. Jotaro had a light crook to his nose, but it looked good on him. Additionally, Jotaro was still a giant, muscular and tall (curse his amazing genetics and his gym habit.), just like when you were younger. Your heartbeat picked up in the moment, and you couldn't help but smile. Jotaro was so, so beautiful and you couldn't contain how happy all of this made you.

 

"You're so beautiful, Jotaro." You mumbled as you looked up to lock eyes with him.

 

"Where did that come from all of a sudden?" Jotaro stiffened for a moment, his eyes widening just slightly, before looking back at you.

 

"I dunno. I.. just felt the sudden need to let you know. I think you're so beautiful, Jotaro, I really do. Call me a sap or whatever, but I have never met a man as beautiful as you. Inside and out." You kept your eyes locked with his. Your words came from your heart and this would be the closest you could get to confessing your love to him without directly telling him.

 

Jotaro blushed just a hint, but you couldn't see it in the darkness. The movie might have lit up the room a tad, but it was not enough to make out the small pink hue on his cheek. He averted his eyes and pulled you closer to him while clearing his throat. There was a few minutes of silence before he spoke up.

 

"I think you're beautiful too."

 

You've never felt happier, but of course, it wasn't going to last.

 

It was January 21st of 2009 and you were just on your way out of a store. It would be Jotaro's birthday soon and you were out to shop for a present for him. You decided that a new watch would be appropriate, since he has been saying that he needed to get a watch soon. The watch you got was rather simple, a thick, silver wristband and the clock had blue details that accentuated the silver. Figuring silver would go perfectly with his skin tone, as it is more on the cool side, and the blue details would fit his eyes, you happily bought it for him and gripped the bag tightly when you left the store.

 

Since you were out late to avoid the massive rush-hour crowd, it was 10PM sharp when you reached the train station. You were alone and listening to music, when you noticed a figure close to where you were standing. It was a tall man you had never seen before, but you didn't really feel threatened by him. The man had long, white hair and sat on a bench, his eyes were entirely white, too and he held onto a cane. Thus, you figured he might be blind. You took out your phone, an iPhone 3G, a newly released phone that still shocked you. A touch screen was just super futuristic to you, considering you remember the old landline times. Geez, now you felt old. You sent out a text to Jotaro, telling him you're at the station and that you'd be home soon.

 

You waited for the train for roughly five minutes before you heard a loud bang, followed by a few more. A sharp pain spread throughout your body; first in your throat, then in your abdomen and in your legs, then you felt it in your shoulder. You heard the clunk of small metal pieces falling onto the floor.

 

You sink to the floor. You're falling into liquid, a lot of it pooling around you more and more by the second. You can't breathe, only gargling out because there is blood pooling in your mouth as well. It's cold, everything is cold. Your heart is pumping loudly in your chest and your head is getting foggier by the second. Did you really just get shot? But how? There was nothing there! You turn your head weakly, spitting blood out onto the pavement as you desperately try to inhale just a tiny bit of air. This can't happen. You can't die like this!

 

But you are.

 

You grab onto the bag you held in your hand tightly. The bag that carries Jotaro's birthday gift. Fuck, Jotaro? He's home, he's waiting for you. You have to call him, you have to get home to him! You can't leave him here, you can't go! You have to be there for him! Who will be there for him when you are gone? You have so much to say to him, you haven't even told him that you love him!

 

You look around. Your sight is getting increasingly foggy and your heart and lungs are burning. Everything is wet and hurts. Everything is hard. You're dying, you know you're dying. You're actively bleeding out in a random train station and you cannot do anything about it. You start to panic; your heart is picking up it's pace, and you choke on your own blood again.

 

All of a sudden, you hear Avdol's voice in the distance. Avdol? Why is Avdol speaking to you?

 

"Death is inevitable. Each one of us is going to die one day. I'm not scared of dying, no. If I live my life to the fullest, I will never have regrets, and if I have no regrets, I can die without worries. It's the only way to fight the fear of death- and let me give you this piece of advice; it's how you live a happier life."

 

You freeze. You have to call Jotaro, you have to call him right fucking now. Where the fuck is your god damn phone?! You spot it a few feet away from you, on the floor and try crawling your way towards it. As you do so, the blood keeps flooding out of your body, leaving a red, ugly trail on the white tiles of the station. Every move is excruciatingly painful, but you have to bite through it. Your only focus right now is calling Jotaro. You cannot leave this world before telling him.

 

You try crawling, but you can't go any further. Your limbs shake and you can't hold yourself upright anymore. Wait, that's it! Head in the Clouds! You haven't used it in years, but now, now you need it more than ever before. You called Head in the Clouds out to make it grab your phone; which it does, albeit slowly. Its grey, ghostly form mirrored your state. It was weak, but it still reached out to the small, square mobile device as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

 

It's just a few seconds, just a few more seconds, please! You keep repeating the word "please" in your head; you have to stay awake for just a few more seconds. You won't die here, you refuse to die here! There's so much more you want to do! You want to kiss Jotaro, you want to wake up next to him one more time! You want to hug him tight and go on another walk! You want to see his beautiful eyes reflected in the mirror as he shaves his face while you're brushing your teeth next to him! You can't go!

 

Avdol's words play in a loop in your head as you shakily try to unlock your tiny phone. Your bloody fingers smear the screen and your head keeps lulling to the side as you force yourself through these painful moments.

 

Avdol said you shouldn't have any regrets if you want to fight the fear of death. You have regrets, you're terrified of leaving this world.

 

You make it. You successfully dial Jotaro's number. You hear his voice on the other line.

 

"Hey, why are you calling? You just texted me. Everything okay?"

 

His voice. His beautiful, beautiful deep voice. God, you love his voice so much. It's such a warm sound for your soul. Never stop talking, Jotaro.

 

You spit out more blood as you try taking any sort of breath. Your voice is barely there as you choke out his name.

 

"J-Jo... Jota...ro.."

 

Jotaro calls out your name, his voice sounds serious now. Worried, even. You can't answer him. He calls out your name louder.

 

"This isn't fucking funny! What's wrong?! Are you okay?!"

 

Wow, he sounds like he's panicking. Or does he? You're not sure anymore. His voice is far away. You want him to keep saying your name, but not like this. You don't want him to worry, you want him to be happy. Will he be happy? Can he move on when you're gone? He has to. You know he won't have a choice.

 

Maybe it's better to die regretful than hurting him even more. He'll feel guilty, if you tell him you love him. He shouldn't feel guilty, you don't want him to. It's okay, you think. He doesn't need to know.

 

You muster up a big breath, your body feels light. It doesn't hurt anymore. You're still cold and it's wet, but it's okay. Your heartbeat slows down.

 

"J-Jojo.. I'm.. okay.. " He hates the name. You know he does. But it's easier on your voice right now.

 

"Where are you?! Are you still at the station?! Were you attacked?!"

 

He sounds scared. Please don't be scared, Jotaro. Please don't be scared for me, you think.

 

"'m.. okay. Don't-" you cough up a little more blood. "It's not your fault, Jojo.. It never was."

 

You won't tell him. He's scared. He will be hurting even more. You can't do that to him.

 

"What the fuck do you mean "not my fault"? Tell me where you are, please! Are you hurt?!" Jotaro's voice is cracking. He's yelling into the phone.

 

You can't feel your arm anymore and your eyes lose focus. Your phone drops to the floor, next to you, right into the crimson pool around you. Your head is pounding and you feel so, so tired. You can close your eyes for just a second, right?

 

You see Iggy in front of you when you open your eyes again. He's wagging his tiny tail as he bites your hand softly to wake you up. When you look around, you see Avdol, shaking his head slightly as he crosses his arms, but then he gives a small smile. Noriaki is crouching next to you and smiling sadly.

 

"I wish we didn't see you again this soon. But destiny has its own plans, huh?" Noriaki spoke. His voice was soft, so soft. He still sounds this same. You feel warmer, somehow and there's no wetness clinging onto your clothes anymore. Noriaki takes your hand as he helps you get up.

 

"Come on, we have to go."

"Go where?"

"To the other side"

You hesitate. But then Avdol takes your other hand and Iggy walks ahead of you guys with a joyful bark. Everything feels warm here, it's so nice.

"Okay."

So, you go. You disappear with the three of them and you feel happy. You don't mind having to wait in order to see Jotaro again one day.

 

It's January 31st of 2009 at 8PM when Jotaro stands in front of your gravestone. He brought you a bouquet of white roses, which he lays down gently at your resting place. He is wearing the watch you bought on the day you died. If you were still here, you'd probably be overjoyed to see him wearing it.

 

Joseph is next to him, the two men staring down at the cold stone.

 

"I loved her. I loved her more than anyone I have ever loved in my life." Jotaro speaks up after half an hour of just standing in front of your grave.

 

"I know." Joseph just replies, one hand on his cane and his other hand placed softly on Jotaro's shoulder. If you looked at the pair closely, you'd see Jotaro's shoulders shaking just a tiny bit.

 

Jotaro was the love of your life. But sometimes, destiny has other plans for people who truly love each other.

 

So, yeah, love really fucking sucks for Jotaro and you.

[mariposa-writes]

Shattered Bonds

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Word count: 2.6k

Overview: In the aftermath of your brother's mysterious death, a shattered bond of trust separates you from your closest friend, Simon.

CW: Grief and loss, substance abuse, mentions of death, mild violence, mental health.

Author's Note: Thinking about doing a second part to this. Let me know if I should make it a happy or sad ending. Please like, comment, and REBLOG.

Your deepest nightmare had manifested itself into reality. You were completely and utterly alone.

Although, to be fair, your residence was currently bustling with individuals. Some were acquaintances from high school, while others were mere strangers. Nevertheless, none of their presence held any significance.

For in that very moment, you were truly alone in this world.

Your brother, confidant, partner in mischief, your lifeline—had passed away. You grappled with the daunting prospect of life without him. The idea of moving forward, devoid of his calls, embraces, or even his woefully bad dad jokes, was unfathomable.

You sat on your couch, surrounded by well-intentioned individuals attempting to offer solace, their words often fading into a distant murmur.

"He's in a better place now."

"He'll always be with you."

"Your brother was a great man."

_______

A month had crawled by since the funeral, each day stretching out like a lifetime. From the moment you woke up to the departure of the last guest from your home, time moved at a glacial pace, as if it had forgotten how to flow.

The ache in your heart remained as profound as ever, a constant companion through these long, lonely weeks.

Your nightly routine had undergone a transformation, abandoning its structure and order. Instead, you settled for a quick shower before cocooning yourself in the familiar embrace of your sweatpants and a t-shirt that had once belonged to your brother. The fabric still carried his scent, a faint trace of his presence that offered a small measure of comfort in this new, uncertain reality.

The kettle on the stove reached its boiling point, its shrill whistle slicing through the heavy air just as a knock echoed at your door. You took the kettle off the burner, wondering who it could be at this late hour of the night.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned, your gaze drilling into the man before you.

"I came to make sure you were okay," he replied.

"Cut the act, Simon. You ignore my calls, don't bother with my texts, and now you think you can just show up out of the blue?" You huffed, your indignation evident.

"I know, I'm sorry," he admitted.

"Sorry?" You questioned incredulously. "This has been the most excruciating month of my life, and you were nowhere to be found!" A tear welled up in your eye, and you sniffled. "I needed you," you admitted weakly, your vulnerability surfacing in the midst of your anger.

He stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your waist. "I'm here now," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. With a tender gesture, he pulled you into his chest, enfolding you in the warmth of his embrace as his arms wrapped around your weeping form.

You had the impulse to resist, to push him away, but the exhaustion of the past month had drained you of all resistance. Instead, you surrendered to the solace of his arms, seeking the comfort that had been absent ever since you'd received the devastating news about your brother.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle or a quiet sob that escaped your lips. Simon held you tightly, understanding that words couldn't mend the pain, but his presence might provide some respite.

As time passed, you both remained locked in that intimate embrace, sharing the weight of your grief. The world outside seemed to fade away, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, united by loss and the fragile bonds of friendship.

Eventually, you pulled away, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. "It's cold, come in. I was making tea." You offered, feeling calmer than you had all month now that Simon was here.

You led Simon into your cozy living room, the scent of tea already permeating the air. The familiar surroundings of your home offered a sense of security, and you found yourself beginning to relax, the tension in your shoulders easing.

As you settled onto the couch, you couldn't help but think about the history between you and Simon. He had always possessed a calming presence, a quality you had sensed from the first time your brother had brought him home, introducing him to your family as his best friend.

Since that day, Simon had become a constant presence in your life. You struggled to remember a time when he wasn't there, a reliable and steady companion through the ups and downs of life. His absence during this difficult month had been a stark departure from the norm, but you were determined to cherish the connection that had endured for so long.

Simon nodded appreciatively as you handed him a steaming cup of tea. "Thank you," he said softly, his eyes reflecting the depth of his regret.

______

Simon stayed around after that, choosing to sleep on your couch instead of returning to base. You didn't protest; in fact, you found comfort in his presence.

The days were a mix of tension and familiarity, with the occasional awkward moments, especially when you couldn't help but recall how Simon had left you when you needed him most. However, there were also moments of ease and comfort.

Growing up, you, Simon, and your brother had practically been inseparable, spending weeks, if not months, together in your house. So, in some ways, this situation wasn't entirely new.

As time passed, the two of you settled into a natural routine. Simon would depart during the days, his destinations often a mystery, while you worked from home, only venturing into the office when absolutely necessary.

This morning, like many others, Simon had already left before you had even gotten up. It was a pattern you had grown accustomed to; he usually went to bed later and rose earlier.

While preparing a cup of tea, your gaze happened upon the calendar magnetically adhered to your fridge. Today's date stood out, encircled and embellished with doodles, marking your brother's birthday. You hadn't forgotten what today was; in fact, you preferred not to dwell on it. The weight of his absence had made every reminder a poignant stab at your heart.

You found your gaze fixated on the calendar for longer than you'd like to admit, your thoughts mired in a swirl of emotions. Finally, you abandoned the idea of making tea, pouring out the water, and instead retrieved a twelve-pack of beer and a bottle of vodka from the fridge.

Slamming the fridge door shut, you felt a surge of frustration as that date continued to taunt you from the calendar. Placing the bottle of vodka on the counter, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You yanked the calendar off the fridge, crumpled it up, and forcefully deposited it into the trash can, as if by doing so, you could erase the painful reminder of the day.

With your work computer carelessly stashed into your bag, you abandoned the day's responsibilities. Instead, you reached for the TV remote, its familiar weight comforting in your hand. You powered on your favorite show, seeking refuge in its distraction.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the bottle of vodka, uncorking it with a swift motion. Without hesitation, you lifted it to your lips, taking a shot. The fiery liquid burned its way down your throat, and you welcomed the sensation, hoping that the alcohol would soon numb your senses to the point where you wouldn't remember the day of the week, let alone the painful date etched in your memory.

______

The sun had begun its descent on the horizon when Simon finally returned home. He anticipated finding you either at the table diligently working on your tasks or perhaps sitting on the couch, engrossed in a show or book. However, the sight that greeted him sent a pang of sorrow through his heart.

There you were, sprawled out on the couch, your form limp and vulnerable. Empty beer bottles lay scattered on the floor around you, and a half-empty bottle of vodka sat ominously on the coffee table, a stark testament to the attempt to drown out the pain that had overwhelmed you.

Simon let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing upon him as he dropped his bag on the floor. With a sense of determination, he made his way over to you, gently picking up the empty bottles and disposing of them in the kitchen trash. The half-empty bottle of vodka found a new home in a cabinet that he hadn't seen you use before.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with both worry and understanding. "Let's get you to bed."

With gentle strength, he carefully lifted you from the couch and carried you to your bedroom. There, he assisted you in changing out of the alcohol-scented clothes and into a clean t-shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts, maneuvering your body with utmost care. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, his actions were marked by a deep sense of compassion and an unwavering commitment to helping you through this difficult time.

He tucked you snugly into bed, making sure you were comfortable before reaching for the cord on the lamp. Just as the room dimmed, your hand reached out and gently grasped his wrist. Your voice was groggy as you asked, "Can you stay with me tonight?"

"Of course," he answered without hesitation. He got into bed beside you, providing the reassuring presence you so desperately needed.

You wasted no time, curling up in his side and laying your head on his chest. His arm circled around you, keeping you securely tucked into his side.

You lay there in silence, desperately attempting to coax yourself into slumber, yet sleep remained elusive. Your mind had become a battlefield ever since Simon had unexpectedly appeared at your doorstep, relentlessly tormenting you with a single, haunting question.

No matter how hard you tried to move past what Simon had done, it proved to be an impossible task without an explanation. His abrupt disappearance from your life continue to baffle you, leaving a gaping void that couldn't be filled. In the quiet of the night, you summoned the courage to confront him, unsure if he was already asleep.

"Simon?" you whispered hestantly.

"Hmm?" came his drowsy response.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady your nerves, you pressed on. Asking the question that had relentlessly gnawed at your thoughts ever since Simon had taken refuge in your home. "Why didn't you come to the funeral?" Your voice was barely louder than a mouse's, laced with uncertainty

"I was working," Simon repeated, but you weren't convinced. you knew him too well. His voice had that ever-so-slight elevation that only someone intimately familiar with him could detect.

You leaned in closer, your eyes narrowing in the dim light of the room. "Simon, we've been through too much together for me not to know when you're lying. What's the real reason you didn't come? Why didn't any of the task force come?" Your words carried a mixture of frustration and hurt, a reflection of the years of friendship that seemed to be unraveling before your eyes.

Simon let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. His reluctance to meet your gaze was evident as he finally confessed, "I was investigating your brother."

Startled, you sat up abruptly, putting some distance between yourself and Simon. "Investigating my brother?" your voice trembled with a mix of confusion and concern. "Why? Did he do something wrong?" The thought of your brother being involved in something illicit or dangerous sent a shiver down your spine.

The weight of Simon's revelation hung heavily in the air, and tears welled up in your eyes as you absorbed the shocking news. Your brother had dedicated himself to the military, pouring his heart and soul into his service. The idea of him being labeled as a "dirty officer" by the very institution he had sacrificed so much for was a painful blow.

Reluctantly, you found the strength to voice the question that you dreaded to ask. "Do you think he's dirty?"

Simon's silence spoke volumes, confirming your worst fears without a single word. The truth lay heavy between you, a bridge burned and a bond strained by the shadows of doubt.

With a heavy heart and a mind clouded by a whirlwind of emotions, you rose from the bed, determined to put some distance between yourself and Simon. The betrayal and uncertainty weighed on you, and you needed space to process it all.

As Simon made a move to approach you, you whispered, "Get out of my house," your voice barely audible in its initial plea. When he remained rooted in place, his expression confused and lost, you steeled yourself and repeated the command with a firmer resolve. "Get out of my house, Simon," you gritted through your teeth, your eyes reflecting the pain and anger that simmered beneath the surface.

His voice, pleading and full of desperation, called your name, "Please, we can talk about this." But you remained unmoved, consumed by a potent cocktail of hurt and betrayal. How could Simon, the one person who knew your brother as well as you did, lack faith in his innocence? Your brother was a beacon of integrity, and you couldn't fathom that he would ever betray his country.

Simon continued, his words slipping into your thoughts like a venomous serpent. "All the evidence-" It was as if a red mist descended upon you, a sudden surge of anger and frustration. In a fit of overwhelming emotion, you grabbed the nearest object, a lamp on your nightstand, and hurled it towards Simon. He reacted with lightning reflexes, narrowly avoiding the projectile, which shattered against the wall where he had been standing just moments before.

"The evidence doesn't matter!" you yelled, your voice filled with raw emotion. "He's innocent, and you know it! Stop lying to yourself!" No amount of evidence could sway your unwavering belief in your brother's goodness. It pained you deeply to see how easily Simon had been influenced, how easily the whole task force had been swayed, by what they had seen or heard, casting doubt on the man you knew your brother to be.

Simon, concerned for your well-being, moved closer and gently restrained your flailing arms, preventing any further outbursts that could lead to harm. "Listen," he implored, his voice earnest, "I'm trying to prove his innocence. It's just that everything I uncover makes him look worse. I can't keep going down this path and risk further damage to his reputation."

"Sounds like it's already been ruined," you retorted bitterly, your gaze filled with a mixture of frustration and contempt as you looked at Simon. The weight of your brother's tarnished reputation hung heavily in the air, a painful reminder of the chasm that had grown between you and the person who had once been one of your closest confidants.

Simon gazed at you with a mix of determination and remorse in his eyes. He nodded solemnly, understanding the depth of your pain and the importance of the task ahead. "I'll do everything in my power to clear his name," he vowed.

With a heavy heart, you replied, "Keep looking. Don't come back until you clear his name. I don't want someone in my house that doesn't believe in him."

Simon nodded once more, silently accepting your terms. He turned and left your room, his resolve renewed to uncover the truth and restore the faith you once had in him.

[carnivorousyandeere]

SFW Alphabet: Cyrus

CW: Depression, mentions of death and violence

Idk why this ended up so angsty, sorry everybody. Cyrus has a lot of… unresolved issues.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Cyrus is the werewolf who wants alone time with you the most. He really likes just sitting with you in silence, out in nature or in his room, just peacefully doing your own things. Cyrus is also content to just sit and listen to you talk about anything and everything, though~💕

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Hmmm, a friendship could spark if you crossed paths on a hiking trail, or if you were lab partners in class and you pulled your weight in the assignment. Cyrus is pretty quiet and shy, even as good friends, but you’ll be able to get a good sense of his likes and dislikes anyway. He’s also not the best at verbal comforting and such, but he’ll bring you gifts to try and comfort you when you’re feeling down, and maybe even offer a hug.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cyrus is the shyest of the group when it comes to nonsexual, prolonged physical contact. You’ll have to start small and slow, with hand holding and sitting side-by-side, then working your way up to more tender and intimate cuddles. After that point, he’ll be comfortable to sleep next to you, and sometimes even cuddle you while sleeping 🥹💕

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Cyrus can’t cook to save his soul, but he at least makes a mean smoothie! Cyrus is pretty good at cleaning when he has the energy for it, but to be honest he often ends up with the classic “depression nest.” (Mood 💀). 

He does like the idea of settling down with you and becoming more comfortable with casual domesticity with you. He likes to daydream about growing old with you.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Cyrus… Cyrus would feel kind of resigned about it. Like it was bound to happen, like you were always going to leave him, like he didn’t deserve you anyway and it was stupid of him to think he did. He’s not the kind of person to say that out loud to guilt you into staying (he does consider it though…). He would actually let you leave. Cyrus would guiltily continue to stalk you from afar, but unlike many of my other yanderes, he probably wouldn’t make another move to win you back directly (although sabotaging new friends and partners IS on the table) and would just stew in his jealousy of anybody else in your life, emotionally self-flagellating, forever.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Cyrus would love to get married to you in a few years’ time, but it feels like a dream that’s out of reach, so he tries not to dream about it at all. There’s no way you’d actually say yes, after all… 💔

When you do get married, he’ll tear up seeing you at the altar, and saying your vows to one another 🥹💕

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Cyrus is gentle 90% of the time, his touches generally shaky and hesitant. He’s also very careful emotionally, perhaps too careful even, never wanting to make you sad or uncomfortable. The other 10% of the time physically is if he gets, well, horny. Then he can be more desperate and aggressive (but still within reason– he won’t do anything you don’t want him to).

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Cyrus has a love-hate thing with hugs. He won’t initiate them, for fear of overstepping bounds or being socially inappropriate. If you give him a quick hug that’s fine. If you give him a long hug in public, he starts to feel claustrophobic and nervous. If you give him a long hug in private and allow him to feel vulnerable, he’ll cling to you and maybe even cry? Therapeutic.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’s one of the werewolves that takes the longest to say it. When he does, it’s shaky, unsure, hesitant– not really expecting you to respond well to his confession. It takes a long time for him to truly believe it when you say you love him too… ❤️‍🩹

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Cyrus gets really jealous, but he’s the type to isolate himself and sulk about it, while beating himself up for not being good enough to “deserve” your attention. He will move behind the scenes to sabotage whoever is coming between the two of you, and might even resort to premeditated murder over it– preferring poisons over bloodier methods.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Cyrus likes kissing your chest, over your heart. His kisses are generally very soft and chaste, careful. Cyrus likes it when you kiss him anywhere, but especially his neck.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Cyrus is alright with kids. He’s very gentle and patient with them; rambunctious kids might stress him out, though, and he won’t be sure how to interact with them. Also, the younger the kids are, the more lost he is about how to talk to and interact with them. If you hand him a baby he will be so nervous. “Am I holding it right? Is- oh, oh no, why is it crying?” He didn’t grow up with siblings.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Cyrus takes a long time to wake up fully, going in and out of sleep as dawn breaks and morning comes, without an alarm. Usually, though, he likes to set an alarm to wake up before dawn and go out to watch the sunrise. It’s a very peaceful, calm time of the day, without many other people around. If you like that, he’ll bring you with him, as long as you can be still and peaceful with him just for that period of time. It’s fine if you’re rambunctious the rest of the day though <3

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

At night, Cyrus is the kind of person who ends up staring at the ceiling and overthinking. If you’re there with him, he’ll want to talk with you instead. It’s like a sleepover, where everybody’s stayed up too late and the tone gets serious all of a sudden, and then you’re talking about religion and philosophy and your greatest fears and– oh, the other person just started snoring. Oops 😅😂

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Cyrus is not open about himself. He’s got a lot of self-esteem issues and assumes that everyone else will dislike him as much as he dislikes himself. As he becomes more comfortable with you, this will slowly change, and you’ll get to see more and more of his genuine self.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Cyrus didn’t always have a hair-trigger temper, but since being turned it’s like all of his feelings are magnified and very hard to keep under control. He’s definitely lost his temper and hurt or tried to hurt people in the meantime, but the guilt really keeps him up at night. If he ever seriously injured someone in a rage, he would have a panic attack and throw up right then and there as soon as the rage wore off. If he lets his anger simmer slowly, though, he can be much more intentionally ruthless than you might expect.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Cyrus remembers everything about you, and although he won’t forget anything, he also has a secret notebook dedicated to you juuuust in case. It contains information about you, poetry he writes while thinking of you, and detailed drawings of you. He WILL disintegrate on the spot if you ever find it.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time he gets to spend time alone with you, without any of the other werewolves butting in or feeling the need to “supervise” the two of you– AKA, to make sure that you two aren’t gonna make a break for it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Cyrus is 0-100 and will go into blackout rages if he thinks you’re in danger. He’ll come to, threat eviscerated, and then throw up and cry, but he won’t regret what he’s done. As long as you’re safe, anything is worth it. It kills him inside if you see that, though, and are scared of him afterwards. He would never, EVER, hurt you, sunshine, please stop crying– stop running– please-!

He doesn’t really want you to have to protect him physically, but if you protect him emotionally and maybe guide him in social situations, that really warms his heart. And his face hehe~💕

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Cyrus puts in a lot of effort into all of these, but also tries to obscure the effort he puts in for fear of coming off as overbearing and making you uncomfortable.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Hmmmm, probably isolating himself in response to almost everything? Hard to call it a “bad habit,” when it’s probably a trauma response of some kind, though;;; sorry;;;

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

So-so; he likes keeping his hair neat and tidy, and making sure his clothes are neat too, but he’s not super interested in fashion or anything like that. Even his embroidery habit stems more from practicality first (mending), and stress reliever second (doing interesting designs). He does have a good time going thrifting though :)

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Cyrus would feel aching, gnawing emptiness forever, without you by his side. It’s like he’s cold and hollow, unable to really interact with the world around him anymore. He’ll talk to people and can answer questions, but it’s like his gaze is permanently elsewhere.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Cyrus was an environmental sciences major in college before getting bitten by Hunter in an accident. He still loves hiking and just being in nature. He also has a talent for sketching plants, and a hobby for hand-stitching designs in his clothes. His favorite color is green 🌱💚🌲

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

This might sound weird, but Cyrus will actually get really uncomfortable if you’re too nice and friendly to him right out the gate. It’s not a dealbreaker, but he’ll just take even more time to warm up to you (ironically, as I’m sure your intention in being kind was not to keep him at arm’s length). This is part of the initial slip-up between Mateo and Cyrus; Mateo has a crush on Cyrus and wants to get closer to him, but came off just a little too saccharine-sweet out of the gate and set off Cyrus’ avoidant tendencies. He’s trying to bridge that gap but it takes time and patience to get Cyrus used to being treated so kindly.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Cyrus sleeps in green and black plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt with a ton of heavy blankets and quilts. He also tends to prefer sleeping alone, with the exception of you. And maybe, eventually, Mateo will manage to worm his way into his heart and bed as well 🥹❤️

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Six

Masterlist

AO3 link

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, alcohol consumption (nothing excessive but maybe they get a little tipsy), brief mention of blood/medical stuff, joking about getting someone drunk

Word count: 2.6k

For the most part, the ride back was silent. I stared out the window, overthinking about everything I had said to Daryl over and over again. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but the silence was comfortable this time. Just before we got back, he finally spoke up.

“Why do ya go by Vector?”

“Hmm?” His lovely voice pulled me from my dissociation.

“Ya name. Why do ya go by Vector?”

I thought for a moment about what to say. No one had ever asked me why I never went by my first name. It was still a rather sore subject, not gonna lie, but I didn’t want to shut him down from conversation now that he was seemingly starting to open up. I thought of what to say as I went.

“Well…Vector is who I am now. I’ve, uh…had to do some things that past me can’t handle. Thus, Vector was born.” I stopped for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing “Me before used to sing in the shower, wear sundresses, dance in the street, pick flowers on walks, smile with my teeth out…shit like that. Haven’t done any of that in God knows how long.”

We pulled around to the front gate, and Daryl made some kind of signal out his window to indicate it was us. He parked around the front, where the car was before, and jumped out and around to the back. I followed suit, him saying something about going out hunting with one of the other guys shortly.

“Hey Daryl?” He set the boxes that he had grabbed down and turned his gaze to meet mine. I gave him a soft smile. “Thanks for asking. No one’s ever bothered to ask me about that before.” He simply nodded and went back to what he was doing. I heard footsteps running up behind me, so I turned to see Maggie practically running into me.

“Eric’s looking for you,” she said. The tone in her voice didn’t indicate there was any kind of urgency, but given that someone was looking for the doctor, and that this person was the partner of the person who likely needed medical attention most, I had reason to be concerned.

I turned to Daryl. ”Do you want help before I go?”

“Nah,” he scoffed, using his hand to make a “shoo, go away” motion, “go on, doc.” I turned and walked off with Maggie in the direction of Eric and Aaron’s place.

“Hey, Rosita and I are getting together tonight. Michonne’s got Judith duty, so we’re gonna keep her company. You should come.” Excitement built up in my chest at the thought of possibly having a group of girlfriends again. "We’re gonna chat, get wine-drunk, maybe talk a little too intimately about our gentleman callers. It’ll be fun.”

“That sounds awesome. Yeah, I’ll for sure be there,” I replied, “and uh, Maggie…thank you again. For everything you’ve done for me since I got here.” I stopped her and gave her a hug. “You’re a good friend.”

“It’s not a problem, really. Us gals gotta stick together, right?”

“Damn straight. Wait, I have something to show you.” I dropped my bag to the ground and dug into it, pulling out the two small boxes of tampons I managed to find. "Look what the hell I found!” She grabbed the boxes from me, flipping them around until she realized what they were.

“Damn, this stuff’s like gold around here,” Maggie laughed.

“That’s what I said,” I replied, chuckling and taking the boxes back from her, shoving them back into my bag.

“Anyway, Rosita and I will stop and get you on our way to Michonne and Rick’s.” I smiled in response, and she walked off, myself continuing over to Eric and Aaron’s. Eric was sitting on the steps of their front porch, reading a novel of some sort.

“You were looking for me?” I asked him. He tilted his head up from his book and practically leaped up when he saw me. I was impressed with the speed at which he brought himself to his feet.

“Aaron said he needed to see you when you got back,” Eric explained, opening the door for me and letting me in in front of him, “he didn’t say why.” I unzipped my boots and kicked them off, leaving them by the front door. He sounded worried, as any partner would.

“Well, hopefully, it’s not too bad then,” I reassured, “you wait here, and I’ll come get you if he asks. Y’know, doctor-patient confidentiality and whatnot.” He nodded and stepped back out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. I tried to remember what sorts of medications I grabbed on my run, in case I needed to access them quickly.

I knocked softly on the door and announced myself before entering. “Hey Aaron, it’s Vector.” I stepped in, and he was laying in the same spot on the bed I’d left him in. I didn’t immediately notice and bleeding from his leg, no discoloration in his face or arms, no rashes I could see, and he wasn’t making any kind of face to indicate that he was in immense pain. In fact, he was smirking. “You needed me?” He giggled and gestured for me to sit down on the floor next to him.

“Nah, I just wanted to know how your run with Daryl went.” I felt my eyes rolling so hard, I could practically see the inside of my skull. I let out an exasperated sigh.

“Dude,” I huffed, “you cannot scare me like that. And Eric. He was really concerned something was wrong.”

“Yeah, not my best move. But you said not to tell anyone. How else was I supposed to get you here?”

“Oh, I don’t know, ask,” I sassed, “but anyway, do you want to know or not?” He nodded, and I plopped myself down cross-legged on the floor next to the bed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I spent probably half an hour with Aaron, explaining how the run went and me overthinking and over-analyzing every single little thing that both of us said and did. Afterwards, I went and reassured Eric that everything was fine without giving away any info about Aaron having lied to get me there.

I came back to an empty house, so I figured Daryl was out hunting. Not knowing how long I’d have to myself, I took the time to do some cleaning up. It wasn’t terrible in there, but to sum it up nicely, you could tell a man lived there alone until yesterday. I had to borrow cleaning supplies from Carol after not being able to find any around the house.

“I’m glad you’re here. Someone’s gotta keep that place clean,” she joked.

I had retrieved some produce and herbs from the garden, which felt like such a treat. Being able to pick fresh produce after so long was like a dream. I used them to make soup for dinner, which I made a larger batch of to leave some for Daryl. I knew I wasn’t obligated to cook for both of us, but I enjoyed making food for other people. While it cooled, I took a quick shower, as I didn’t have to wash my hair this time, and changed into a workout set I had brought with me, consisting of a pair of black spandex shorts and a black sports bra that was more built like a crop top. To kill time until my new friends came, I sat down next to the window in my room and opened it up to allow the breeze in.

I folded my arms and rested them on the windowsill, resting my chin on them. I could see some of the other residents of Alexandria, whom I didn’t know very well, and Carol working out in the garden. The sun was going to start going down soon, and I wondered if Daryl was going to be back before it got dark. Sure, he was a strong guy, and he could clearly take care of himself, but I felt more comfortable knowing he was safe inside the walls.

A bright little butterfly came over and joined me, fluttering around my head. I slowly put my hand out, sticking my index finger out on the off chance that they would land on me. Surprisingly, and lucky for me, they gracefully landed on the padding of my finger.

“Hi my sweet,” I whispered as to not scare them. As a kid, I had a fascination with butterflies, moths, any pollinators really. When my mom wasn’t being the best family law attorney around, she was in her garden, tending to her flowers. She made sure to teach my siblings and me the importance of the local pollinators. Butterflies, bees, hummingbirds…they all made me think of her. “Aren’t you just the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen?”

They stood on my finger for a bit, sometimes adjusting their footing and flapping their wings softly, as if to show off their bright hues. All I could think about was how much my mom would love this. She’d be gushing quietly, tiptoeing over to retrieve her phone to snap a picture.

I had an idea, and I slowly began to lift my hand toward my face. I closed my eyes as to not intimidate them with my large peepers and brought my finger to the tip of my nose. I felt their little legs moving around, and they made their way onto my nose. I smiled, keeping it small so I didn’t hit their wings with my cheeks. They continued moving their wings occasionally, and I did feel them tickle my face a couple of times, which made me giggle softly.

I felt them turn their body around to face back out the window. I lifted my index finger back to my nose, and they scuttled back across to it. “Thank you, sweetheart.” I gently put my hand out the window, and with that, they gave a few more beats of their wings before flying away. If I believed differently, I would’ve thought that was my mother coming to greet me. But I didn’t believe in any of that stuff.

I sat there for a few moments, watching them fly away off toward the community garden. I hoped they would grace the other residents with their presence as they had graced mine. I shifted myself around to get up, and I saw Daryl leaning in the door frame, arms crossed, watching me. I almost had a heart attack from being startled.

“Jesus Christ!” I yelped, falling back onto the window, “how long have you been standing there? You scared the shit out of me. I didn’t even hear you come in.” He didn’t acknowledge my question, or anything else I said, in his response.

“Maggie ’n Rosita are here for ya.”

“Oh, sick.” I got up and slid past him, our arms brushing as I went by. That moment felt like forever, the moment that my skin met his, and it gave me goosebumps and nearly had me tongue-tied as I tried to talk. “I, uh, made dinner. It shouldn’t be scalding now. You’re welcome to whatever you want of it.” He looked like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Thanks,” was all he said. He kept his position in the door frame, arms still crossed. I scurried down the stairs to my boots and quickly put them on, opening the door to see my friends. I turned back to Daryl.

“See ya later.” I gave him a smile before closing the door and following Maggie and Rosita. They were looking at each other, the looks on their faces communicating things they weren’t saying out loud.

Michonne answered the door with Judith in her arms, and she seemed excited to have the company. Her face was beaming. I figured this was something these three did often, got together and just had girl time. I hadn’t had girl time in years.

“What are Rick and Carl up to tonight?” I asked, propping myself up on one of the bar stools next to Michonne. Judith was giggling and babbling, looking around at the rest of us with the fascination only babies possessed.

“I don’t know, father and son target practice or some shit,” Michonne explained, “said Glenn and some of the other guys were gonna join.”

“I’m gonna pour myself a glass,” Rosita said, walking into the kitchen, “rest of you want one?” Michonne and Maggie giggled and nodded. “Vector?” I fidgeted a little in my seat.

“I don’t know. I don’t think Alexandria’s only medical professional should be drinking. Plus, I’m a bit of a lightweight.”

“Oh come on, this is what we’re here for,” Maggie exclaimed, “to drink a little too much and act like everything hasn’t gone to shit.”

“You’re here now. It’s safe. You can relax a little bit,” Michonne assured.

“Ok, but just one,” I replied, “If I drink too much, I’ll start saying things I don’t wanna.” The three exchanged glances and smirked.

“We’re gettin’ her drunk, right?” Michonne said to them, smiling.

“Oh yeah,” Rosita laughed, followed by Maggie’s “absolutely.” I rolled my eyes and accepted the glass Rosita held out to me. I wasn’t much of a red wine drinker, but with how much of a lightweight I was, wine was the safest option.

The evening turned into a gossip session. They asked me a lot of questions about my life before this, and I theirs, and what got me interested in being a doctor. I got to hear way too many details about the sex lives of Maggie & Glenn and Rick & Michonne. Maggie made a comment about something Glenn liked, and I nearly spat my drink out.

“I’m going to try to forget about that,” I laughed.

Minutes turned into hours, and I was eventually two glasses deep, despite my initial protest of only one. Michonne attempted to hand me a third. I was already tipsy, but like Michonne said, I could relax a little bit. I would start being a serious community member tomorrow.

“What about you, Vector? How are you getting on with everyone?”

“Everyone here’s been wonderful. Y’all are so kind. I can tell that people here really care about each other. Thanks again for letting me stay,” I said, holding my glass up as if I was giving a toast.

“Anyone here particularly wonderful?” Maggie asked, chuckling. I bit my bottom lip. I knew what she was asking, but I hoped feigning ignorance would change the subject.

“What do you mean?”

“Is there anyone you’re interested in…romantically or otherwise?” I couldn’t say I didn’t try.

“Well, seeing how many of the men here are taken, the options are limited.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She eyed me as I took another sip of my wine. "If we guess it right, will you tell us?” I swirled the drink in my hand, my heart rate picking up as my anxiety spiked.

“Again, the options are limited, you’d eventually get it right, so I guess yeah, go for it.” They squealed like a group of girls in high school and started naming off the male residents, all of which I either said no or shook my head to.

“Does that just leave Daryl? No…is it Daryl?” Michonne asked. I could feel myself starting to turn red, and their faces began to light up at the realization that they had got it right. I averted my gaze from the group. They were squealing like a bunch of high-school girls. Rosita practically jumped out of her chair.

“You’re blushing so hard right now!” she yelled, pointing at me.

“I have got to figure out how to stop doing that,” I mumbled to myself.

[cypric-rat-hyperfixation]

Hey followers who drink

or use other recreational substances

I'm a straight edge (don't know shit) and umhh I got questions-

(CW: addiction, substance abuse, mention of intimate partner violence)

Thank you!

~ Please feel free to answer as many or as few as you feel comfortable! ~

1) Any of y'all struggled with alcohol addiction/abuse before?

Are you sober? What where the key events/steps/moments/circumstances that contribute(d) to your sobriety?

If not, what are the major events/steps/moments/circumstances keeping you back? The biggest reasons you aren't sober?

2) Any of y'all struggled with other addiction or substance abuse before?

Are you clean? What where the key events/steps/moments/circumstances that lead to your cleanliness?

If not, what are the major events/steps/moments/circumstances keeping you back? The biggest reasons you aren't clean?

3) Y'all know...

... of any virgin drinks, flavorings, or candies that taste like alcohol; but aren't?

... where to get those anti-alcoholism supplements that make you violently ill if you drink? Or whatever they do

... any other ideas about physical or physiological substitutes for drinking?

>>>>>> E.g. similar-tasting virgin beverage in an old alcohol bottle

... any other ideas about physical or physiological deterrents for drinking?

>>>>>> E.g. anti-alcoholism supplements, elaborate puzzle padlock on the alcohol cabinet

... of any resources on how to support alcoholic/addicted loved ones?

4) Y'all got anything else that would help an alcoholic without access to treatment? That they could do on their own to try and mitigate/control the situation?

5) And finally, y'all have anything that would help an alcoholic gain access to treatment?

Bearing in mind the constraints to access are time, transportation, support system, finances, providers (Medicare), and abusive partner control of these things

I'll take any commentary upon any of the queries. Please answer only what you're comfortable with.

Thank you so much. I'm trying to support a friend, and I really appreciate your help.

[recoverycat]

trauma recovery win!

CW: mention of previous intimate partner violence

I was half awake when my partner wrapped his huge arms around my neck in a chokehold in his sleep. We had a disagreement the evening prior that, regardless of its calm nature, had left me feeling nervous due to past trauma with other people. But when he wrapped his arms around my neck, my blood ran cold and my thoughts started racing with worries of oncoming violence. I was stuck there for a bit, trying to calm myself when he suddenly got a muscle spasm in his sleep that flashed me right back to being choked by a previous violent partner. I began disorientingly melting between being back with the previous abusive partner and feeling so sure that this is when my current partner will turn violent and kill me. This is it, I felt. I had lost all grasp of the present and reality. I froze completely, terrified. Then it subsided and I was again back in the present, able to recognize that my partner was sound asleep and coherently able to understand that it was just a muscle spasm. And you know what happened then? I managed to self-regulate and fall asleep in his accidental chokehold, feeling safe, though a little rustled.

It’s my first time actually being able to calm down enough to fall asleep! I’m so proud of my progress! There is hope!

[words-after-midnight]

Air: What’s the easiest part of writing for you?

Shadows: What’s the darkest theme you’ve ever written about?

Elemental asks

Air: What's the easiest part of writing for you?

Introspection and dialogue! These both come naturally to me and I think they're some of my strengths in writing.

Shadows: What's the darkest theme you've ever written about?

Might be a hot take, but I think this is really subjective and what answer I would give depends on what is meant by "darkest" - darkest in terms of the most fucked up thing I've ever written? Darkest in terms of actual concept vs. how it's approached/how "heavy" it reads in the text? Darkest in terms of what's been most emotionally draining/stressful for me to write? Darkest in terms of most taboo or that a lot of writers won't touch?

cw/tw: DV/IPV, suicide, self-injury, extremism, SV/SA under the cut

Darkest theme in terms of things I've addressed explicitly/directly, on screen, in detail, intimately: domestic/intimate partner violence. Honorary mention to (political) extremism.

Darkest theme addressed symbolically/peripherally/metaphorically/etc.: Probably sexual assault; features semi-prominently in one of my projects where one of my survivor characters is in a narrating role, but it's definitely addressed in a more indirect/undertonal/symbolic way than the aforementioned.

Honorary mentions to self-injury and suicide which are addressed extensively in Life in Black and White, and which, for some readers, may well be darker themes than anything mentioned above.

[tashas-cauldron-of-magic-soup]

The Ballad of Kazimir Littlemoon, Part 1: Menzoberranzan (2/2)

"For the future of the ill-fated third son, believed murdered by his mother, was only beginning."

Kazimir, or Kaz, Littlemoon is a Dungeons and Dragons character, and now a BG3 Tav, of mine. This is his story.

Contents: Menzoberranzan (1/2) Menzoberranzan (2/2)

The Surface (1/2) The Surface (2/2)

Waterdeep (1/2) Waterdeep (2/2)

CW: violence common to drow society (cruelty to intimate partners, child neglect, ableism)

She would return to the city immediately. Now with the matter of Nalaxle on her mind. He knew of the male infant, and that he was disposed of. If he hadn’t resented his matron beforehand, he certainly did now for taking his son from him. She feared that he would finally turn on her after so long simmering on his hatred for her. Though he was publicly a devoted consort, and Phaeravine a doting matron, the two had never been especially fond of one another. What would stop him from releasing himself from her by revealing her crimes against Lolth?

But Phaeravine still held the upper hand. She knew he planned to escape, having found secret documents of his in correspondence with the surface. With the Church of Eilistraee. She kept that knowledge to herself, blackmail for moments like this. Not to mention that, officially, it appeared that Nalaxle has only produced males. Which reflects rather poorly on his breeding abilities.

She had to devise a way to keep her power secure by keeping his resentment quiet. But with the Peace still underway, she had to tread lightly after what she did to her son. Murder was out of the question. The matron would just have to take matters in her own hands once more.

There was no ruling against the creation of drider. All Phaeravine would need to do is reveal his plot to abandon Lolth and escape the Underdark. That way, Nalaxle would be kept alive, never breaking the rule against sacrifice of males. But still be punished for his apostasy and his perceived failure to produce a female heir. And he’d be driven so insane by the process that no one would ever believe if he told of what she’d done to their son. Finally, he’d be banished from Menzoberranzan for good. Any risk of revealing her secret could be banished with him.

Phaeravine stole the documents that night and presented them to the authorities. The case was open and shut, and it was agreed that a drider was to be made of him. When he tried to plea to them that Phaeravine had broken the Peace of Lolth, that she’d had a third son and murdered him, the words fell on deaf ears. His testimony was all but useless now, nothing more than the floundering of a male trying to save his own skin and get revenge on his matron who indicted him to a fate worse than death. Even the dislike of Phaeravine couldn’t rescue him.

The last Phaeravine saw of Nalaxle was the courtroom, watching him be drug out to be transformed. Like all drider, he’d be banished to roam the Underdark, often alone. A cruel reminder of what abandoning Lolth results in. Nalaxle was no different. Though in the back of his mind always was his son. What his son could’ve been had Phaeravine not been such a wretched bitch. And silently, he plotted revenge. Revenge on the breaker of Lolth’s peace. He would gain the favor of Lolth and she would love him. Save him from himself.

Meanwhile, in Menzoberranzan, the matron had a new lease on life. After the Silence of Lolth subsided in 1373, Phaeravine took on a new bevy of suitors. And she would land most excitedly on Seldszar. A brutish member of House Vrammith’s warriors. An abnormally tall and well-built drow, standing nearer to six feet than five. Given to extreme shows of cruelty for his own entertainment. He was called the Soldier Breaker by other warriors of the house, shaping the house’s forces in little more than killing machines.

The two would become inseparable, even with the other consorts at her beck and call. In fact, Seldszar enjoyed watching as Phaeravine disciplined her other consorts.

From their union came an occasion as close to joyous as Menzoberranzan could muster. The birth of a female heir for House Vrammith. Chanistree was a hardy infant much like her brother before her. With all her teeth already cut and a present look behind her eyes. She’s been here before, her midwife said of her. She was destined for greatness, they all agreed. Little did Phaeravine know, this meant she was destined to usurp her mother someday.

Not long after the birth of Chanistree, high on the feeling of respect and praise in having such a perfect heir, she became pregnant by Seldszar once more. And to her pride, bore a daughter. However, this one was smaller, with a weak cry and cloudiness in her eyes. She appeared to be blind from birth. A sour revelation. She took the sickly infant and begged that there be something to be done about her affliction. But found that no cleric was able, or possibly willing, to help. The child would be doomed to blindness.

Phaeravine all but rejected the girl, letting her be raised entirely by wetnurses and tower servants. She named her Veldriniah, meaning concealed, or shadow. She was functionally useless to her mother and father, unable to ever ascend to matronhood thanks to her defect. And the girl was uncharacteristically kindly to her servants, identifying far more with them than the nobility that forgot about her. If it were not for her being female, her mother would have killed her as well. She knew this well.

She would never mean anything to anyone in Menzoberranzan, never bear progeny or know love. But her lack of eyesight was not a lack of ability as her family believed. She heard everything, remembered everything, and received portents of the future since before she could cast her first spell. Conversations spoken with the upmost secrecy were hers to keep. Every piece of blackmail stored within her mind. But she used it mostly to keep the servants safe. If they could know the movements of the tower, they could stay out of trouble. Better yet, they could be smuggled out without being caught and killed.

So for her hubris, Phaeravine had been given everything she could ask for. Female heirs. But she should have been careful about her wishes. For the Spider Queen worked in mysterious ways, and she always had the last laugh. This disobedient matron would not be spared for her transgressions.

So the cruel goddess gifted her with two daughters, one monstrous and one kind. While Veldriniah was lost to the shadows and the servants, Chanistree was lost in plotting murder. From the moment of her birth, the elder girl saw her greatest challenge in her own mother. Her mother who wielded power ineffectually and carried more pity than authority. That power should be hers. Menzoberranzan should be hers. To the hells with House Baenre and all others that stood in her way. She would slay them and use their blood as bathwater. And how fun for Lolth would it be to watch the girl come of age.

But all this was a story for another time. This story is not of the eldest girl’s hunger for power, nor the blinded daughter’s longing for escape. For the future of the ill-fated third son, believed murdered by his mother, was only beginning.

[love-toxin]

don't leave me be, be with me - yandere fruity four

plot: regardless of how much you love your partners, their love for you grows stifling now and again. and the best way to remedy that is to be a little rebellious, which is what leads you to sneak out with Robin and go for a little joyride and on a quest for breakfast in the middle of the night.

cws: gn!angelface, yandere fruity four, st 4 spoilers, polycule, post s4, eddie lives arc, PTSD-related coping mechanisms (alcohol abuse, isolation, reckless behavior), drinking, robin and angelface are drunk, drunk driving, scars, hurt/comfort, implied sexual dynamics, softcore, very mild jealousy, mentions of violence, fluff.

word count: 3.6k

spice level: 0.5/5

"Where the fuck are they?"

Steve's pacing again, shoes heavy on the carpet as he tries not to lose his temper. There's music blasting in Eddie's room, but the door is shut, and Nancy doesn't even want to try and knock right now. She doesn't have any answers for him, and it would just stress him out more. While it's been months since he's gotten out of the hospital, he's still healing in…other ways.

"I don't know, Steve."

"Yeah, well, they have to be somewhere, Nancy! They can't just disappear, not unless-"

"Steve, don't go there. They took the van, they're probably off getting ice cream or something–you know how those two are. The only danger they're in is Robin driving without a license." Nancy bites her lip. She doesn't know if that's the truth, she just wants it to be.

"Oh, God, what if they got into an accident?" But Steve's practically inconsolable–he always gets like this, his brain is hardwired to sense danger even when there is none. Probably. But there's a chance, so he's sniffed it out and won't stop fussing until he has you in his arms again, she's sure.

"Steve-" That look on his face is definitely not a good one, that sudden realization that means he can't stay still any longer–even though he hasn't been, it's shocking that there isn't an indent in the floor from where he's been pacing back and forth for the last hour. He marches over to the couch and grabs his jacket, throwing it on one arm at a time as he slides past Nancy and heads towards the front door. "Where in the world are you going?"

"Gonna drive around town and look for the van." Typical. His solutions are largely straight to the point, if not a little over the top. The second she opens her mouth for a rebuttal, he holds up a hand to stop her. "I'm going, Nance! Don't try to stop me."

She knows how stubborn he is, it's a good if not occasionally frustrating quality. And in all honesty, he has every right to be as fretful as he is.

All four of them nearly didn't survive the horrors that Vecna brought to Hawkins, but Steve and Eddie definitely experienced a new level of physical torment that she knows she won't ever fully be able to sympathize with. You're the only one Steve's ever really told the full story to, the one he's cried to and held so close for fear that if he didn't, you'd be taken away yourself. They've all seen each other's scars, but you've taken care of each and every one of them–you know them intimately, know the pain and the story and the way they've healed but never gone away, and never will. You're what Eddie calls their "cleric", but he always refers to you as an angel. And you are one.

Speaking of Eddie, he hasn't been the same either. None of them have, but he's different–quieter. The hospital seemed to numb him after the demobat attack, barely alive and clinging to life for so long that even Nancy didn't believe he would really make it. But you did, you never gave up on him, and eventually he opened his eyes and smiled that sweet smile at the sight of you, and she'll never forget the wails you let out as you hugged him so tight the nurse tried to pry you off–the memory usually brings a smile to her face. Steve got kicked out of the visiting room for a week after locking her out of the room, just so the four of you could hold Eddie as long as you wanted and kiss him, stroke his hair, tell him you love him…they were hard days, but good ones. But now everyone is just trying to survive normal life, and that's mostly to your credit. You make life just a little more bearable…and when you're gone, like you have been for the last couple hours, they're all on edge.

Nancy hurries after him out the door to the trailer, knowing good and well that she can't let him run off on a rescue mission by himself. He's too reckless with himself and too tunnel visioned when it comes to you, and it's certain not to turn out well if he really freaks out without someone there to calm him down. And that's when the familiar sound of crunching gravel hits her ears and she stops to watch the sight before her, Steve having only gotten to the bottom step before he freezes too.

That familiar van pulls up slowly, slow like the driver is trying not to draw attention, and comes to a stop just about a foot off of the mark that carves out the driveway from the rest of the grass. The pause between the vehicle stopping and the passengers getting out is suspiciously long, but when the doors crack open and the two of them get a glance at you, they're sure they know why.

"Naaaaaancy!" You giggle, your footsteps so wobbly as you move around the hood that you have to use it for support, while Robin hops out from the driver's seat and throws it closed before stumbling towards you. The two of you have to cling to each other, your hands clutching Robin's arm, to even hope to make it up the driveway and towards the front door–and when you get close enough, Nancy's nose crinkles as the smell of liquor wafts over and hits her like a train. So does the realization–you two have been drinking, and drinking hard.

"Can I have a kiss, Nancy?" You cackle, tripping over your own feet and nearly hitting the ground, if not for Robin's surge of strength as she pulls you back up with a goofy smirk on her lips. One glance at Steve, and she can see it clearly–he is absolutely pissed, his scowl mean enough to burn a hole through concrete.

"Where the hell were you two?!" He didn't mean to yell, Nancy knows that, but you two don't even flinch. You're not even all there, too caught up in your own world and in each other's mouths as you capture Robin in a kiss instead.

"Pancakes! Errrr, and other stuff.." You giggle around a mouthful of Robin's tongue, your playful wink just earning you a furious huff from your big, strong protector.

"Oh nooooooo, I think we're in trouble!" The two of you can't contain your laughter as you break off and nuzzle against each other, Robin's arm clutched in your soft hands as she whisper-yells that into your ear. She even cups her hand to make it seem like she's trying to be subtle, and she probably is, she just doesn't realize how loud she's being and how late it is.

"You're drunk." Steve states bluntly. It's not a first for Robin since the Vecna incident, unfortunately, but it's surprising for you.

"Just a liiiiiittle," Robin pouts, her fingers pinched together to show just how 'little' you and her have been drinking. From the smell of you two alone, it has to have been at least a full bottle of straight liquor between you two, maybe more.

"Don't get mad, Stevie! We were havin' fun."

"You were being stupid. You were driving drunk! Without a license!" He's almost vibrating with anger and frustration. Robin's blasé tone pisses him off on a good day, and after putting your life and hers in danger, it does even more so.

"Bite. Me!" You share an even more girlish laugh at Robin's outburst, each word punctuated by a middle finger, like it's the funniest thing in the whole world. "You guys suck ass, you're suffocating us–you guys hate fun!"

Nancy would probably be grabbing Robin's tongue for that foul comment, but she's so out of it she knows that there's no use. She'd probably just laugh it off, or cry, and she doesn't want either of those two extremes to deal with right now. But there is something she has up her sleeve that always works.

"You two made Eddie very upset, you know." Nancy lays her hand on Steve's shoulder as she speaks, silently relaying to him that she's got it under control. A soft "Eddie?" passes your lips. It's incredible how quickly you both snap to attention when she mentions his name, sharing a look between you two before both turning back to listen intently.

"Mhm. He's been up all night worrying about you two. He doesn't like it when you're gone, it makes him scared. You know that." Her voice is stern, but still gentle enough for you two to take in. The 'mom voice' as you, Robin, and Eddie like to call it, which is largely reserved for when she really needs to get firm with one of you. Or all of you.

"Eddie? Where's Eddie?" Your tone wavers, giddiness turning to concern in a matter of syllables.

"Tell us, Nance!" Robin tugs at her sleeve, eyes big and wide with worry.

"He's in his room." Both of you rush past them, hurrying up the steps in a frantic bid to find your beloved boyfriend. You love them all equally, of course–but Eddie is sensitive. Sweet. He's always been that way, but it's increased tenfold since Vecna and caused you to be even more protective over him than you were before. You just want to protect that precious smile no matter what.

"Eddie! We're home, baby!"

It's when you both stumble through the front door that you see him at once. Frazzled, his curly hair mussed, dark circles under his eyes from worry. His nails are bitten down almost completely, bad habit he struggles to kick when he's anxious. He's standing in the living room like he heard the ruckus and had come to see what was happening, but his eyes are clear and set on one of you at a time, switching between like he's assessing that you're both here and both safe.

The two of you rush forward and knock him right off his feet, a startled shriek pulled from his lips followed by a grunt as his back thuds against the carpet, and the two of you collapse on top of him with your full respective weight in a hug so tight he couldn't squirm away if he tried. Even being taken off guard, Eddie squeezes both of you tight in a hug as best he can, a relieved smile flickering across his face as you press desperate kisses to his cheek.

Nancy and Steve step inside, and the sight at their feet just raises a sigh. They might not be happy, but they are glad you're unharmed and in relatively good spirits.

"We're sooooorry, Eddie! Soooo sorry!" You babble, pawing at his neck and his face to plant even more kisses on his lips. He turns only to ruffle Robin's hair and peck her on the forehead, but otherwise his mouth is occupied by yours, and gladly so, if his muffled little gasps and mumbles of "missed you" are any indication.

"What about us? You have an apology for scaring the crap out of us?" Steve asks, irritation still lacing his voice. Part of it is definitely a spark of jealousy, Nancy can tell better than most. It takes you some work and the aid of Eddie's hand, but you get up and stumble over wobbly feet, and throw one arm around Nancy's shoulder and one around Steve's to loosely hug them both.

"M' sorry, Nancy…sorry Stevie….I love you guys soooooooo much.." You maw on each of their cheeks as well, leaving wet kisses by their ears and down their necks as if each one is to make up for one of the many minutes you spent away from them.

"We love you too." Nancy squeezes you back, eyes screwed shut, a breath caught in her lungs as she tries to keep it all in, to keep it together. Breaking down and crying because she was so worried about you would only hurt you.

"I've been bad…"

"Yeah, you have been bad." Steve's hand is in your hair, and despite reaffirming your realization, he's still so gentle with you like you're made of porcelain. As frustrating as he can be, and as much of a dad as he acts like sometimes, he's still so softhearted when it comes to you that it's honestly comical.

"Sooooooo….you gonna punish me?" You pull away to look at both of their faces, and giggle when their eyes widen, and they share a look like they can't believe what you just said. They haven't really seen you drunk very often, so they're not used to the…mood you sometimes get in.

"Not now, baby. But you are gonna make it up to us, later." Nancy tenderly takes your arm off of her and rubs it, trying to be strict but it just comes out soft.

"Aww, Nancy…" Your eyes draw towards Steve, who still has some frustration lingering on his features. He'll never realize how sexy it is–how sexy he is when he's mad. You slide that free arm around his other shoulder, and lean into him for your lips to just barely brush his.

"C'mon, Stevie, wanna feel you inside me…" His shoulders stiffen up and his chest tightens, his lungs at a standstill at the sight of you rubbing your body up against his. And then you lean up, and your lips ghost over his ear, and you whisper that dreaded pet name that sends a shiver up his spine and has him tilting his head up that he wasn't ready for–not in front of the others, at least. "..Wanna be good for you. Promise."

Your little attempt to get him all worked up, and your teeth nibbling at his adam's apple, is interrupted by a soft groan, one that turns all three of your heads towards the two lumps on the floor. When Eddie sits up, he moves to clutch Robin's limp body as she lays against him, who is very clearly asleep and sighing quietly into his neck at the movement.

"Okay, bedtime! C'mon!" With a face still flushed and hot, Steve hups and squats down to wrap his arms around your thighs, before he lifts you up to throw you over his shoulder and starts walking towards Eddie's room. Every step is another bounce and your grin is still loopy and enthused as he does so, while Eddie hauls Robin up to her feet and Nancy supports her by her other arm to lead her the same way. Thankfully it's a short ride, and when Steve flips you back on to the bed and kneels to take your shoes off for you, Robin hangs off your other friends before collapsing into bed beside you. She's so pretty with that red flush to her face, warm and dizzy from the alcohol and laid out on her back, her breasts heaving as she breathes quietly before opening her eyes and turning them towards you.

Once Steve's hands are occupied with carrying off your shoes and no longer ghosting against your ankle, you find yourself moving up on your knees and throwing one over Robin's waist, her fingers lifting up to brace your thigh as you sit gently enough on top of her for it not to hurt. The words have left her vocabulary, but the pleased sigh that she emits at the feeling of you pressed up against her is enough for you to understand.

"Robbie," You lean down to kiss her, and moan the nickname into her mouth. "Wanna do what we did in the backseat…"

"Uh huh…" She whimpers, hands laid out by her head in total submission. Her hips are already rolling against you, mind clearly muddled by need that you apparently haven't satisfied quite yet. Your hands move to unbutton her jeans, your gaze set and tongue flicking out to lick your lips–when Steve grabs you by the wrist and your head tilts to look up at him.

"Prude," You stick your tongue out at him, annoyed at his familiar interruption. Robin wasn't totally wrong, sometimes Steve is such a stick in the mud. He looks genuinely hurt, though, and his eyes fall from yours like he's trying not to show you what he's really feeling.

"Noooo, not the puppy dog eyes…m' sorry for pissin' you off, baby.." His grip loosens on your wrist, but you just grab his instead to pull him close enough for your foreheads to touch. He can't look away now, not even if he wanted to.

"I wasn't really mad, I..I was just…scared." His voice is so rarely this shaky, unsure, that it almost doesn't sound like Steve. Not your confident, headstrong Steve.

"Why?" You smile so innocently, it's nigh impossible to still be mad at you. He knows that, and yet he can never, ever resist it. "I'll always come back, Stevie. Not going anywhere."

A tired smile tweaks at his lips, and he moves to turn away–but you don't let him, and you grab his face to hold it in place.

"I'm not going anywhere, Steve." You sound more sober in that one breath than you have since you got home. More than you ever have, maybe. And he has nothing he can say that can encompass his feelings in that moment, so he just simply nods, and shares a kiss with you that's so damn sweet even with the taste of liquor on your teeth.

Having been relatively quiet until now, Eddie crawls into bed beside you two, his sneakers kicked off but his clothes from the day still on. Nancy's busying herself with pulling up a blanket off the floor to throw over you three, nudging your arm for you to slide off of Robin and cuddle up between the two of them so she can do so. Eddie's breath hitches when your fingertips brush the scars beneath his shirt, the flesh of his belly torn up and only now having healed into what he thinks are ugly scars.

"Eddie's so pretty…" You mumble as you turn to face him, already nodding off with the warmth of both their bodies cushioning you like big, heated pillows. Robin snuggles up to your back and drapes her arm over your waist, and Eddie wedges his arm beneath you two so you can both use it as a pillow, his fingers laced in Robin's hair to help her fall asleep like it always does.

"You're prettier, angelface." His warm breath on your face draws a chuckle from you, and with your eyes closed he kisses your brow before finally settling in to drift off with you. And when Nancy's finished tucking you all in and Steve shuts off the lights, each of you sharing your "I love you"s and "good night"s, the two of them shut the door quietly behind them to leave the three of you in relative peace as you slumber.

It feels like the day has dragged on so long, and in some sense it has–the time is nearing three am if the clock in the hallway is any indication. She and Steve have been awake for far too long, but it doesn't look like he's in any mood to rest by the expression on his face.

"You think we were a little too-"

"Harsh? No." Steve cuts her off abruptly. He knows exactly what she's thinking, he usually does–but this time, for once, Nancy really has no clue what's running through his mind.

"I'm gonna make them regret that tomorrow. I'll slash the tires on that stupid van if it keeps them here." The sudden surge of emotion in his voice takes her by surprise. Almost always, your touch and a few gentle words in that beautiful voice of yours are enough to calm him from whatever is bothering him. He's infamous for falling for your reassurances, giving in to you so often that it's like you're a siren to him, his certainty so often falling to the wayside when you sway him into believing whatever it is you're telling him.

"They might just steal your car, Steve. You know Eddie's got those magic fingers." She waggles her fingers teasingly, she's trying to lighten the mood, and he does chuckle a little at the joke. But the way his face sets immediately after is…intense.

"Not if I break their legs first."

"Steve," Her hand reaches for his arm, but his eyes and his mind are somewhere else.

"Don't." He warns. There's not enough conviction in his voice for her to really be worried about that–at least not now, when not enough has happened for him to really think that's at all a good plan. You haven't scared him enough, but…it does frighten her to think that it's still a possibility, albeit a very small one. Even though it would work, she hates to see you in pain, to see you scared. "Wasn't even my idea. Eddie talks in his sleep."

He steps away with those words lingering on his lips, heading towards the front door to drop your shoes by the others–but not before he reaches over and grabs the bat he's kept since that first night he realized that the world wasn't as safe as he thought it was. He throws the door open, and leans back to call to her before he takes a seat on the step and waits to see if anyone–or anything–followed you two home. Like always.

"...So do you, Nance."

[cor-ardens-archive]

[cw intimate partner violence, rape]

I’m still thinking about Fassbinder’s Martha, and why it made me think of Lolita (beyond those two reasons I mentioned, which are not really exclusive to these two narratives anyway). I think it’s because in some ways Martha feels like a vampire movie, the same way Lolita at times seems like a vampire book. It’s interesting that Fassbinder never made a horror film (he produced but did not direct The Tenderness of Wolves), when some recurring elements in his works seem like they would fit perfectly in the horror genre.

There’s this scene specifically that is striking to me, when Martha is looking for help, and her friend tells her “your husband is a sadist”. It’s like the reveal in a vampire story—your husband is a vampire.

There’s this heavy pause before he says “sadist”, and he needs to look down to do it. People in the bar are staring at them, they seem to understand what they’re talking about. It feels like a town with a resident vampire.

[kazuwhora]

hello hello, i see your requests are open now and can i request izana, wakasa, chifuyu and kazutora with an akutagawa!s/o? hope you have a great day/noon/night! ✨🤗

hi anon! sure! I will try my best with izana and wakasa since there's not tons to work with personality wise so forgive me if theirs are a little shorter heh. im gonna include a little blurb from the bsd fandom wiki for anyone not familiar with his character! I like these kinds of headcanon requests so if anyone wants to see more please feel free to request!

"Akutagawa has a black and white "survival of the fittest" view of the world, claiming that weak people should die and give way to the stronger ones. He is not afraid of pain and defeat His ruthless, vicious nature makes him one of the Port Mafia's most dangerous members, feared by both ally and foe. As violent as he is, Akutagawa maintains a generally composed and detached approach. Towards subordinates and superiors alike, he acts aloof, distancing himself from social interactions however possible. Nonetheless, his composure is fragile. Akutagawa is quick to lash out, ridiculing him for risking the bounty by acting recklessly. This quick temper often gets in his way, fuelling his actions to the core of his very being."

SUMMARY: izana, wakasa, chifuyu, && kazutora with an akutagawa!so

CW: hints of toxicity and violence, mentions of sex but not really all that nsfw-ish so otherwise not much else!

IZANA

- this is an interesting one because from what we know about izana, he is very similar in personality to akutagawa in terms of ruthlessness that stems from childhood trauma and isolation.

- in the case of a s/o with this personality, I think it would be a troubling relationship. lots of bitter fights fuelled by nothing but an inability to express vulnerability, while leaving both of you torn up inside and begging for someone to nurture the trauma and allow space for emotions.

- that being said, with toxicity and trauma also comes intense passion and desire. this relationship brings a lot of fire both in the bedroom and outside of the bedroom, with simple arguments often spawning into intense desperate (and lengthy might I add) sex. like, intense. it's almost like sex is the only safe outlet of these pent up emotions, providing a sort of comfort and also distraction for both parties.

- however as I said in general, this is definitely a toxic relationship. one where neither can help the other when it comes to growth and improvement on a personal level. it's unhealthy and enabling, but for a short lived fling it is hot as fuck im not even gonna lie. lots of hate sex too.

WAKASA

- so wakasa is another interesting one alongside izana given the lack of information and content we have about his character so please excuse the slight kc fanon version I have in my head of wakasa lol

- wakasa has a "don't fuck with me because I do not fucking care" type of vibe to him. I definitely think he's the type to completely disengage from the type of behaviours an akutagawa-type s/o might display. this leads to sort of a sense of competitiveness in trying to get some kind of reaction from him, and it has the potential (much like izana) to become toxic in nature

- any attempts to get under his skin are failed attempts, and the way he looks at you with that half bored expression is something that only triggers more of a somewhat emotional response from you.

- with that being said, my fanon version of wakasa is someone who while cold and aloof, is also quite a rational person. he's been typed by the fandom as INTJ which is quite a quick thinker, and I think he probably (despite not showing it very well) has a soft spot for you. but your passion and intensity (as well as your easily triggered dynamic) keeps him from completely being able to express this care in any way other than not engaging with your antics

- as much as there are some similarities with the type of toxicity in this relationship with both wakasa and izana, the intense passion isn't quite the same as it is with izana. instead, feelings of passion are more to the point and driven by pure instinct and desire rather than toxic passion. wakasa seeming like a very literal person, is actually quite mysterious deep down and has a lot (I mean a lot) of hidden desires and kinks that begin to emerge with time. it's rarely a conversation, and more often just something that happens that surprises you. you just have to go with the flow here, and let him take the reigns for once. it might actually be a good opportunity to allow for vulnerability to take the spotlight for once, which is something wakasa is surprisingly in tune with and quite to the point about.

CHIFUYU

- this is something much healthier than the last two. chifuyu, being an enfp is someone that's able to handle this level of intensity in a person while still being able to understand what's really going on.

- call him the trauma counsellor king. he values each and every response to a trigger that you might have. he notices patterns, he makes mental notes of things, and he does this all without making it seem like he's analyzing.

- to be honest he actually loves the spunk you bring on a day to day level. even though most of the time it's driven by bitterness or hate (not always towards him just in general) he is still able to see beyond that and appreciate you for what you are.

- with that being said, chifuyu will not stand for any toxic behaviour towards him. no sir he will not. threats and pushes for fights wont be tolerated, and he will either disengage or try to expose your vulnerabilities in an attempt at forced submission. this can be hard to get used to, especially with having a personality characterized by the inability to accept being vulnerable. but with time chifuyu is one to create a safe space for you to allow yourself to feel emotions beyond anger and resentment, and he encourages this.

- because of this very feelings based approach, intimacy with chifuyu is just that: intimate. he's extremely loving and doting, hoping that his sweetness can rub off on you a little bit. however he's also very accepting of your need for power over him (especially during sex) and will absolutely submit to your needs in order to please you.

- he really likes to put you in a place of pleasure though, so however that may come to you chifuyu is the one to deliver it.

KAZUTORA

- oh boy. this one is a doozy. listen. if we're talking about timeskip kazutora (as is the case with all characters i write about but I feel it especially important to remind ppl of here given his history), we're talking about someone who is quite literally walking on eggshells in terms of his trauma and emotional vulnerability.

- he's pretty good at being emotionally aware of his needs and struggles as well as the needs and struggles of those around him, but that doesn't mean that he's entirely healed or capable of managing toxicity or his triggers. he still slips up from time to time especially when things get hard, and sometimes finds himself falling into his old patterns. after all, he's only human. but this is where things could get messy in a relationship.

- for the most part, like I said, he's pretty good. so let's focus on that part first since I want to give him credit where it's due. he is very desperate for love and dedicated to providing something to his partner. in this case, he will seek to tap into his emotional vulnerability to provide some sort of comfort for you. he wants to see you happy, and calm, because he sees so much of his old self in you that it gets to him sometimes. but at the same time, he struggles with your relentlessness and can become emotionally drained when things get tough. he'll beat himself up for not being good enough to help you, and this is when he'll isolate and fall into old patterns.

- however, akutagawa's personality type isn't all bad. with a s/o like akutagawa, comes an immense amount of protection and loyalty for their loved ones no matter how tough things might be. in this case it might be hard to communicate this, but there will be times when it's needed in order for kazutora to restrain from old habits and ways of dealing with hardships. but he wants to share his healing with you, he wants you to be happy, and more than anything he understands the struggle of wanting to be happy and healthy but being afraid of losing the one thing that makes you you: your attitude and relentlessness. nobody understands this better than kazutora, which is why things between you can get frustrating and very personal for him.

- much like chifuyu, sex is driven towards pleasing you and only you. chifuyu leans more into switch territory however, while kazutora is 100% submissive. in this case it works out well, however he has a lot of boundaries and limitations when it comes to the way in which you function. he doesn't like degradation. instead, he thrives from praise and any sign of love and care. this might be tough for you to execute 100% of the time, but when it comes down to it the way his eyes twinkle for you is enough to make the ice around your heart melt just a little more each time.