#especially ones from the new fallout show

[ratherxintense]

[[why am i reviving this fucking gremlin

[tsukimefuku]

The broken idealist: Higuruma Hiromi

And how the world of JJK viciously punishes idealists.

Before we start, let’s set some premises:

This is an essay based solely on my opinions and my own knowledge of criminal justice. I’m no professional writer/essayist.

JJK is a critique on unfair systems that reward selfishness and nurture individualistic (oftentimes destructive) behaviors.

One of the main motifs in JJK is (un)fairness.

Even when rewarded by these systems, individuals usually end up alienated (Gojo being the utmost example, but so is Sukuna to some extent).

The world of JJK punishes idealists very harshly. 

I might've read waaaaay too deep into his character (apologies in advance).

I am ABSOLUTELY biased in analyzing this character because I kin Higuruma very hard and identify profoundly with many of his struggles.

[queue “Pigs” by Pink Floyd] Let's do this.

The ideal of truth and Higuruma choosing to be a criminal defense attorney

Higuruma shows up in the manga as one of the top players of the Culling Games. Throughout a few chapters, Gege introduces him to us as a former criminal defense attorney that has lost it after one of his clients gets his innocence verdict overruled and is unfairly convicted for a crime he didn't commit, triggering Higuruma's cursed technique to awake, ending up in the deaths of the Judge and Prosecutor that contributed for the wrongful conviction.

Along those chapters, we get to see two very interesting things: Firstly, the fact that Higuruma actively chose to be a lawyer, instead of pursuing a career as a judge. Second, his stance and lines about truth, especially this one: "Even if no one else does, I want to keep my eyes open."

Higuruma, for me, is a prime example of how someone moved by truth and justice can become a self-righteous, cynical individual (I'll refrain from the word "villain" because he wasn't ever an actual "villain" in the story). From the get go, when we get more information on his past, we can see his mental state slowly declining as he gets progressively more overworked fighting an unwinnable fight. 

We have some very important pieces of information from chapter 158: Japan has a 99% conviction rate. The public opinion about defendants is that they're always guilty. Higuruma earns little, works a lot and his job is usually trying for a miracle, to be that 1%. And, finally, that Higuruma chose to fight an unfair system from within. 

That not only has huge parallels with the world of cursed energy, but is one the most important messages I feel that JJK is building up to — you can't reform a broken system from within, because structurally and systematically unfair systems will always push things back into a state of unfairness / status quo. We see this when Gojo says, at the beginning of the manga, that even if he killed all the higher ups at that point in time, other assholes would just take their places. To a more fundamental level, we see it in Yuki's failed efforts to end curses from the perspective of a jujutsu sorcerer, and the way the story is progressing towards a complete rupture with the current state of cursed energy altogether to give place to something new.

The message is: To fight an unfair system from within and by its own rules is and always will be a losing game.

Now to Higuruma's fallout, we have a perfect storm for what happened to him — an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. 

I'll dive a little into criminal law (and c.l. procedure) and make many oversimplifications to get a point across, so I apologize to any other criminal lawyers out there reading this and cringing at the oversimplifications.

In theory, the Criminal Justice System should be preoccupied with the truth. Criminal Law, in essence, is attributing a penalty (prison, fine, death, etc.) to an act (to kill, to rob) described by law as a crime. In that regard, then, one could only suffer said penalty if they actually committed the act that the law described as being a crime. 

Where does truth come into place here?

To investigate if something happened in the world of facts (the real, concrete world) is essentially a search for truth, which to me is very telling of Higuruma's choice in becoming a criminal defense attorney. 

In an unfair system in which 99% of people are convicted, it'd make no sense for this man to become a prosecutor. The prosecution is already benefiting from the system, considering the way the scales are tipped. That's a given.

But regarding the judgeship, things become more interesting. In a fair criminal justice system, the judge is forbidden to engage in probationary activity (which means, basically, that the judge cannot search for evidence, investigate or look for witnesses, he can solely analyze what the defense and prosecution bring to him in order to give a verdict — the judge does not engage in the most important activity in finding the truth).

Why can't the judge do that?

Because when the presumption of innocence is in place, anyone is presumed innocent until proven guilty, ergo, if there is not enough evidence to convict, the person must be acquitted. If the judge engages in that activity, they'd be taking on the prosecution's job — to prove the occurrence of a given criminal act. We have separate places for judging and prosecuting for a reason.

The scales are already in favor of the prosecution (they literally have THE STATE’S aid ikn the form of police forces to investigate and taxpayer money to foot costs during criminal lawsuits), so anything that might end up harming or weakening the presumption of innocence is strictly forbidden, including having the judge engage in probationary activity. If the lack of evidence is enough to acquit someone, then having the judge searching for evidence automatically harms the presumption of innocence, because if there is not enough evidence to convict someone, the judge MUST acquit. 

In that scenario, then, the best place for someone who wants to search and defend the truth against unfairness is the Defense stand, clearly. 

Everything said up until now about how the criminal justice system should work is just the theory, however. The reality of it is far sinister. The criminal justice system is a machine perfectly conceived to chew out those who fight for fairness, because fairness is not one of its main goals. It's main goal is serving as an instrument of power (in the most Foucaultian sense of the word) and control over citizens and, to some degree, appease collective concerns about crime rates and violence by making examples out of people, whether they're guilty or not (I could go on a tangent here for hours about the criminal justice system, capitalism and protection of private property by the state, but let's not do that, lol). 

That's why Keita's trial is the perfect storm to break Higuruma's psyche so deeply. All the systematic unfairnesses that exist in the Japanese Criminal Justice System chomp away his ideals — one might say, what constitutes the very core of who he is — and unceremoniously spits it right back in his face. 

Independent defense lawyers are systematically in a worse position regarding resources to gather evidence in their client's favor; it's easier to convict someone who's already under the gavel than to start a new investigation on somebody else and spend even more taxpayer money; to convict a person whom the people deem as guilty soothes the public opinion regarding how well the criminal justice system actually works to "keep society safe from these foul criminals" (not human beings); the appeal is a limited resource in most criminal justice systems, so after one gets their innocence verdict overturned, to get it back is extremely hard.

Everything worked perfectly to break every inch of Higuruma's ideals. It's no use for you to be the only one willing to stare truth in its eyes if everyone else looks away because it's more convenient to let the unfair gears keep turning the way they do. You'll give yourself to unnecessary suffering meanwhile nothing ever changes. This could even help draw a parallel between Higuruma's and Geto's fallouts: to realize how broken the system is, how you can't break a wall with the toy hammer the wall builders give you, and how lonely/depressing/infuriating of an experience it is to realize all this and still know there is absolutely nothing you can do. 

The game is rigged, and if someone ever so chooses to not play by those rules, they're viciously punished.

Now that we've gotten to the breaking part, let's see how it manifests in Higuruma's own cursed technique and domain expansion.

The broken idealist and the cynicism

Someone had made an amazing post about how Higuruma's domain expansion was a perfect demonstration of his own cynicism at the moment his abilities were awakened, but I couldn't find it! So OP, if you by any chance end up reading this, HMU, because what you said will be featured here. (Edit: found it. Thanks, Eugie! The post can be accessed here, and @wolke17 made a deeper analysis after it, take a look at their profile)

In order to talk about Higuruma's cynicism stemming from his disappointment with the criminal justice system, we need to talk about his domain, so that's what we're gonna do now.

In his domain expansion, we meet his shikigami, Judgeman, who is an all-knowing creature responsible for giving off the verdict at the end of the debates between the two parties. According to Higuruma, Judgeman knows absolutely everything about someone's life the moment they enter his domain.

All is well up until now, isn't it? Hm, not so much. There are some very serious philosophical conundrums to having an all-knowing being bestowing judgment (skeptical catholics went crazy over this for many centuries). 

Think about this: in a Courtroom, we have a judge who needs to get to know the facts, and is presented with two different hypotheses about the facts (prosecution and defense), for which the evidentiary activity (collecting evidence) is needed to support one hypothesis or the other. Given that we abide by the presumption of innocence, you don’t even have to prove the defense’s hypothesis to get an acquittal, as long as the prosecution one isn’t proven beyond a reasonable doubt.

What’s the issue with having a judge that is omniscient? 

First off, why would two hypotheses need to be confronted if the judge already knows the answer — if the person did or did not commit the crime?

On another note, now going into more of a “well he’s just judging based on the allegations”, it gets deeper. We have a judge that knows what happened, but simply decides based on the parties arguments. This is a huge issue because firstly, it obliterates the value of truth in the justice system — if criminal law is attributing to a particularly reprehensible action a penalty, and judgeman knows if that action took place or not, yet doesn’t decide according to what happened, but according to who best defends their point of view, it annihilates the very own reason for collecting evidence, the reason that a judgment needs to take place and the reason for criminal law even existing.

In Higuruma's domain, then, truth becomes the least important thing. In there, who has the better argument wins the debate. The judgment that happens within Deadly Sentencing is not about truth, it’s about the game's rules (or, more specifically, his domain's rules) and who plays them better, which makes it all the more ironic that Higuruma sees so much “potential” in the Culling Games due to its rules and established mechanics.

In a courtroom setting, having an omniscient judge is always, in any scenario, a cynical game of wits, and it fits perfectly with the philosophical fallout Higuruma experienced after Keita's conviction. His perspective got switched from "who deserves to win according to the truth" to "who plays the game better". He lost faith in the criminal justice system, and to a deeper degree, he lost faith in fairness in the world as a whole.

And that's why we can arrive at the conclusion that Higuruma is, in essence, a "broken idealist" character: he's not pandering to the idea that "the winner should be the one who plays the rules better” because he truly believes it; he's doing it out of resentment, because he got time and time again punished and was subjected to a hell of a lot of suffering for upholding his own ideals of truth and fairness. He's not acting, he is reacting to being unraveled and broken the way he was.

It also shows in his discourse regarding the weak, and the way he tries to place himself above what he dubs “the ugliness of people”, as the only one who sees the truth (“darkness is only darkness / people are ugly”). It’s a mirror: he experienced his own helplessness (or weakness) with Keita’s conviction, so in an effort to try and protect whatever is left from his own psyche, he’s actively denying how helpless he really feels by putting himself above the “truly weak”. 

In the end, however, Higuruma kept his idealistic essence alive instead of giving himself over to the story that he told himself as a defense mechanism, unlike Geto, which is why it was possible to bring him back.

Even broken, he remained an idealist at heart.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[imagine-silk]

Hello! May I request fallout 4 companions (Nick especially) with Sole who shares the bare minimum of information about themselves? Not because Sole doesn’t trust them, they really enjoy theirs companions company. Perhaps they busy themselves so they don’t have to think about all the little and big things they miss. (I bet Codsworth would find pristine things that Sole would miss (like a favorite movie, vinyl, or comic?))

Sorry if its not something you’re interested in doing right now. The ask kinda came out as a ramble, I’m lacking sleep haha. Thanks again for considering my request!

》Honestly one of my favorite kinds of characters.

【Cait】 She doesn't appreciate it. Her contract was traded to some random weirdo who barely says anything. It took three days before the topic of your name came up. And two weeks to know what you were looking for, who. But in return you don't ask what she does on her own time or what she's done. It feels like you don't mind rather than you don't care and that makes her feel seen. It stays between you unsaid in her eyes.

♡If romanced she doesn't push for any information. You'll tell her if it's important. People think it's weird the two of you to not share about yourselves like normal people but you're happy, that's all that matters.

【Codsworth】 It's just like it was before. He, unlike the others, already knows you. He knows you very well. Not only did you do an intake for daily preferences but he also served you for a few years. While you're out and about you'll do something or say something that sounds like no information to others or out of context and he'll answer, "Just as I was thinking as well." While you camp with some of the other companions he does chores the way you like without needing to ask, making comment on recent events, which makes them jealous for sure. He digs up things from the house he preserved or found and fixes them up brand new before presenting it to you. Songs you liked or wanted to hear. Movies and shows and comics. Clothes pressed for you and the furniture is redone the way it used to be. He knows you and wants to keep it that way.

【Curie】 Low-key doesn't care. She has one thing on her mind and that's her own goal to better medicine. Finding things to do that is all she needs of you. When she goes to be a synth her feelings overwhelm her and you guide her through that. She's never ever asked about you. She'll tell you about what she's feeling but never thinks to ask what you feel. In her defense, is doesn't understand the nuance of social interactions. And to her credit, it works for the both of you.

♡If she's romanced she realizes she wants to know what you feel and if it's the same as her. She's mostly interested in what you feel now rather than what your opinion is in the past or isn't currently relevant.

【Danse】 Right away he doesn't care for it. A mercenary who talks very little can be dangerous. But you followed orders well and are a damn good shot. The way he asks is more like demanding. It was all for a vetting process but still rude. After the intake he didn't care about your lack of openness. Didn't matter to him personally. After BB he suddenly regrets not knowing you. He was so rude and dismissed you as another faceless soldier and you saved him, from the Brotherhood and himself. Now he wants to know you.

♡If romanced he makes effort to know you, like really know you. For a long time he refused individuality so his own sense of self is not great. But you know yourself and make no attempt to hide it. You are so sure of yourself you don't need to explain. That's one of the things he loves about you.

【Deacon】 He thinks you're like him, that you want to hide in plain sight. As much as he gives that to you he's nosy as fuck and takes every chance to learn about you, mostly from afar. It doesn't take any time at all for him to realize you'll just tell him. Most of them are one word answers. It takes him even less time after that to realize you'll comment on things from before the war especially.

♡If romanced he goes out of his way to show you stuff. Old posters and toys. If you follow my headcanon that he's pre-war, he makes old references and generally adds comments on things to bait your answers.

【Hancock】 He thinks it's pretty cool. "Oh, tall, dark, and handsome/beautiful." He does play twenty questions with you 24/7 and is very happy with your half-answers because an answer is still an answer. Plus he knows at least two other people like you. He is the one who figures out that you just don't have the time or think about talking about yourself rather than purposely keeping secrets the fastest. He knows people so he knows better.

♡If romanced he plays with it. You want a kiss? Tell him what's your favorite color. He'll get on his knees if you tell him what you like about your new home. But honestly he'll do it anyways. All he needs to know is that you want him like he wants you.

【MacCready】 He was more concerned about you putting a bullet in his head while his back was turned. Everyone in the Commonwealth was looking out for number one. So imagine his surprise when you were looking out for your number one and it wasn't you. Not only were you looking for your son but you stopped to help every person who asked for help. Your actions spoke to him in a way your words, he figured, couldn't. You didn't need to help him but you did. You didn't take the caps back. And you killed the gunners the second they turned their guns on him even when they said their beef wasn't with you. It was what you did, not what you told him.

♡If romanced he will ask things. Basic ones are like, "How was your day?" Normal questions that are the peak of domestic life. Then the more personal things. Some sound silly, "What's your favorite color?" But most build off of a quick thing you said in passing, "Wait, you've been to California? What was it like?" He trusts you'll tell him the truth.

【Nick】 As a private detective this simply won't do. He gets it at first, you just need him to find your son, it's business. However, you want him to stay with you after that. It confuses him because you made no indication you like him in the slightest way. He's the second fastest to realize you're not keeping to yourself on purpose. As one of the only ones who are pre-war he's able to get things the others can't. He'll talk about things and give his options and bait you into answering it. That was a common way to get people to talk back then when you were trying to be polite and keep up the conversation, even if the conversation stays a bit thin.

♡If he's romanced he makes fun of the fact you forget to say things about yourself. Don't get it wrong, he makes it clear you don't need to share. He's just poking fun.

【Piper】 This simply won't do. She asks as many question as they come up but she gets depressing short answers. You either give one word answers or say you're not really in the mood, on some occasions you admit you don't know, you never thought about it. It takes a long time for her to stop and that's only because the questions start getting old. And you still feel like a mystery even though you've told her everything.

♡If she's romanced she realizes how much you've told her and pushes it. What is your type? How do your lips feel? Why do you look so good? It becomes playful and light, never serious.

【Preston】 In the beginning he didn't realize he didn't know much about you. He took your help selfishly to get him and his people back on stable ground but you told him you were happy to help. So he takes time to learn about you and give you everything he could possibly help you with. In hopes you would share by yourself he gives things to you without any prompt. It doesn't really work most of the time.

♡If romanced he asks things with hearts in his eyes. He is so lovesick he takes all of your half-answers and files it away in his mind. It hardly matters at that point.

【X6】 It wasn't his mission so he didn't care. You owed him no explanation or justification. Doesn't mean he doesn't question you. He asks why you helped someone, why you stopped for a distraction. And of course you give short answers like, "They needed help." or "I wanted to." Later, after the Institute is gone, he sees how you carry yourself and tries to copy it. Obviously he can't so you help him too. You showed him he can figure himself out by himself and he didn't need you. So he held the same opinion; he doesn't need to know you like that.

♡If romanced he's still comfortable with you keeping things to yourself. It's only after months of being together do you realize he's never asked you a personal question, that you've never shared anything that personal. When you bring that to him he tells you that hardly matters. But seeing you make the effort after that gives him a feeling he can't describe. It's a good feeling he thinks.

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Hellllo, I saw this post from you about the 141 with a reader with past sa, and I wanted to ask if you could do one where reader mentions something that happened to them, without realizing it was sa (pls with König, I just love him). I hope this is ok for you to write

Ooh that’s a good one! I love writing for him honestly!

tw: mentions of sexual assault, mild description but nothing graphic, trauma, comfort

König loves your voice. He especially loves all your stories of your life before him, all the highs and the lows, the victories and the pitfalls, and everything else in between. His favorite part of getting together with you, is learning about you. He just loves you so damn much.

So when you’re lying in bed with the TV playing and you’re curled up against him, head on his chest, gently tracing the skin of his pecs under your fingers, he’s in heaven. He’s indulging your guilty pleasure of watching trash TV, he could never understand these dating shows but he gets a laugh out of seeing you get so worked up about them and maybe he gets a little invested too.

“Ugh poor girl.” You sighed watching the couples argue, “I feel for her, my ex was the same way.”

“How do you mean?” He’s running his fingers over your arm, drawing figures absentmindedly,

“He was just kind of manipulative and gas-lighty, always got what he wanted.” You shrugged, “Like, he’d initiate things and I wouldn’t be interested or I’d be too tired and he’d still keep trying and we’d wind up doing it. Like I said always got his way.” You seemed nonchalant about what you said, so much so that it took him a second to process what you said.

And then König’s blood went cold and his feather touches slowed to a halt,

“Schatz…” he breathed, his heart starting to race, he wasn’t sure how to handle this new information. Were you aware and just putting on a brave face? Or…

“Don’t sweat it, Köni, for all his aggressive persuasion he was a shitty lover.” You chuckled, confused as to why he stopped stroking your skin, yet as the words came out of your mouth paired with his reaction, you started to wonder if you messed up.

“Liebling, is that true?” His voice was even as he continued rubbing your arm, he moved to sit up and brought you with him,

“It’s fine, sweetheart. I’m over that asshole anyway.”

“Have you talked to anyone about it?” He turned to face you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face

“About what, my ex?”

“About his ‘persuasiveness’.” His tone hardened as the word came out of his mouth, he’s not big on sugar coating, but this is delicate and should be handled carefully,

“Not really? I mean, I’ve mentioned it to a friend before but that’s about it.”

He watched you carefully, eyes tracking every centimeter of your face, watching, waiting for a reaction, waiting for a response.

“Why do you ask?”

He stayed silent, still watching you. Waiting for you to piece things together, waiting to catch you should you realize what you just said. He watched gears turning in your head but still you struggled, is it worth bringing this up and helping you realize it? Would it do more harm than good to protect you from the truth? He wondered if a part of you realized but you’re protecting yourself from the truth so it’s forcing your mind to stop from connecting the dots. Is he even equipped to deal with the fallout after you piece it together? Would it be worse to encourage you to speak to a professional?

“I’m just worried, liebling, what you’ve described isn’t exactly a good thing.” He hated picking and choosing his words so carefully, it only made his anxiety worse and he worries he wouldn’t be able to help you with how busy his own mind is. But for you, he’d do anything. Whether it’s choosing his words carefully, gently guiding you to a point of realization, or finding your ex and breaking every bone in his body.

“Well, yeah, I know that but…” and then it hit you, he watched your eyes widen as the gears all clicked into place, “it wasn’t like that, König. That’s different.”

“It really isn’t, schatz. I’m so sorry, but it’s not different at all.” His voice is so soft that you wouldn’t have heard him if you were so close. He pulled you in to sit on his lap, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly against his chest. He’s got your head tucked under his chin, one hand pressing your head against him, his fingers running through your hair,

“That’s not what happened.” Your voice was small as your own arms came up to wrap around his back, your body preparing you for the tears you were fighting to shed,

“It’s ok, liebling, I’ve got you. You’ll always be safe here.”

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Deprived

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.6k

Summary: Top embarrassing moments at work with the Maximoffs

A/N: This seemed like the most humorous way to introduce sexting.

Warnings: fluff, sexting, toys, and sibling embarrassment

You can’t help but laugh at Pietro as you finish the last dregs of your drink with a sigh. You and your family had just finished a weekly dinner at your house, and it’s getting late. You aren’t sure who started the current conversation, but given how embarrassed Pietro is, for once, you don’t think that he is the one causing trouble.

You listen to him deny that he’d done anything compromising in his office at the compound, but the more he protests, the less you believe him. Stealing a glance at Wanda, you see how dubious she appears as well and realize that you’re right to doubt Pietro.

Wanda mutters something under her breath that Pietro hears and unsurprisingly disagrees with. You just decide to wait and see where this goes because you honestly can’t think of something more embarrassing that Wanda may have experienced at work.

“Yeah, right! You’ve definitely done worse than that, Wanda.”

“Actually no, I haven’t.”

There’s a beat of silence as the twins glare at each other, but then you hear someone clear their throat and you turn to the other side of the deck with a frown. You see Steve shooting the Maximoff twins a sheepish look, no just Wanda, before he takes a sip of the whiskey you’d just finished.

“Actually, I can think of something.”

Wanda was beyond frustrated at how the day had gone for her. It was nearly 9pm and she had been out and busy with meetings since she was forced to leave you in bed at 7am. She swore that if she wasn’t so used to micromanaging things, she would give the reins to her brother to take care of the aftermath of today. She didn’t want to think about the fallout right now, nor how she had a nearly 2 hour car ride until she was home. You would likely be asleep by then which just put her in a worse mood. 

She hated to leave you, especially after she promised that she’d spend time with you. She hadn’t promised the whole day because that wasn’t something she could do very often, even if it was Saturday. However, she had promised you breakfast in bed, but that had turned into 30 seconds of coffee in bed when Steve had called with the bad news. 

So Wanda left you to deal with the most recent work crisis, and you spent most of the day alone and slightly miffed. You didn’t waste the day away; however, and you spent the morning hiking with your dog before baking and watching cooking shows all afternoon. You made a cheesecake, a pie, and brownies before you realized that you should make something for dinner. You probably should eat a vegetable. 

This led to you making one of your favorite meals, and you ate your shrimp stir fry on the couch in front of the TV with Boone at your feet. By the time 8pm rolled around you decided to walk Boone one last time before showering and crawling in bed. You hadn’t heard from Wanda all day, but this wasn’t abnormal. You seldom heard from her when she worked, but for some reason, today it annoyed you. 

Sitting in bed slightly cold, and alone, you considered what could have happened this morning if your wife had stayed like you both had wanted. You smiled at the thought of how your other lazy mornings have gone, and you sigh in defeat before switching off the light and lying down with a frown. You roll onto your side before looking to your phone on the bedside table. You hesitate before grabbing it and unlocking it to see your text thread with Wanda. 

You wonder if she’s still working. How long until she comes home? You never really know the answer to this, but despite how this morning went, it seems that you’re in luck tonight. Your phone buzzes in your hand, and you see that Wanda’s texted. 

-I’ll be home in a little over an hour. -

You smile at this before you lie flat on your back stare at the ceiling. You sigh heavily before shifting under the covers mindlessly. You almost fall asleep, but your thoughts have drifted to something that makes you throw the covers off of you. You’re overheating and you slip your hands under your shirt to remove it before rolling back onto your stomach with a sigh. 

You’re near sleep again when you remember that you didn’t respond to your wife’s text. You see that it was nearly 40 minutes ago and you curse before you type out a quick response. 

You stop short of sending your ‘see you soon’ message, and you stare at it for a few seconds before smiling widely. You decide to take advantage of the line of communication that you’ve been granted. You just hope that Wanda’s not working on the way home because if so, it’s likely your message will go ignored. 

Wanda’s staring out the window frowning deeply at nothing in particular. It was too dark to see much more than the silhouette of trees they pass every once in a while. She’d concluded that you must be asleep since you hadn’t answered her text, which was disappointing, but understandable. She’d almost convinced herself to try and get some work out of the way when her phone vibrates in her hand close to an hour after she’d texted you. 

-Can’t wait. I might get started without you.-

Wanda frowns in confusion as she reads your message again, then once more before she decides that maybe she woke you up from a nap. She texts back a question that you take barely any time to respond to. She has to take a deep breath before she shifts in her seat and thinks about how to respond to you. 

-What are you starting on without me? -

-I’ll give you a hint. No clothes are involved. -

Wanda types out a reply slowly as she looks up to see that Steve is still focusing on the road. He has to be relieved that all of the day’s meetings are over too. She knows that she’s not always the most pleasant person to be around, especially when stressed. 

Wanda taps send and waits to see how you respond.

You’re rolling onto your back with a groan as you try to push your shorts off with the least amount of effort possible. You sigh in relief and throw them toward the end of the bed with your shirt before you shake yourself out like a dog. You smile, already feeling better now that you’re not so hot, and reach for your phone. 

You figure that Wanda is going to play coy, or maybe even tease you. Instead, her response makes you stiffen and kicks your heart rate up a bit. 

-You better not be doing what I think you are. – 

You can’t help the giddy noise that leaves you at your wife’s not-so-subtle threat. You consider how you’d like to play this, but it doesn’t take much thought at all. You’ve always loved to push Wanda’s buttons, and knowing how much she loves it too makes you all the more eager to tease. You type out a response before setting your phone beside you on the bed. You close your eyes and imagine what you’d do next if Wanda were by your side. 

-You better hurry home if you plan to stop me.-

You ignore the vibrating phone for a few minutes just to make Wanda tick. You run your finger through your hair, pushing it out of your eyes as your other hand slides up your leg. You stop to rest it against your stomach and you sigh heavily as your phone starts to ring. You smile and let your hand drop between your legs before you bother to answer.

Wanda’s typing furiously when she realizes that you’re ignoring her. She imagines you’re lying in bed naked and bored out of your mind. She knows how active of an imagination you have, and if you’ve already taken off your clothes from feeling overheated, well anything could happen. 

She’s doing her best to try and stop this when she realizes that her three texts are going unread. She glances at Steve again before she curses herself for not choosing the car that has a privacy divider. Today had been so busy that she hadn’t planned on needing one for the drive. She’s really regretting her choices right now. Still, she barely hesitates to call you. 

By the fourth ring, Wanda’s getting annoyed and you’re smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt. Still, you don’t say anything immediately when you slide the green button across your screen. You close your eyes after the call connects, and simply hum when Wanda speaks up. 

“Y/n?”

Your lack of response makes Wanda tense and she has to push down the urge to speak above a whisper. She is too aware of Steve’s presence, but she’s also not going to wait until she’s at home to talk to you. 

“Y/n, what are you doing?” 

You can tell by her tone, that your wife is irked and you have to stop yourself from laughing because you know that will just make it worse. 

“Hi Wands.” 

Wanda simply frowns at your avoidance of her question before she sits up straighter at the sound of something rustling in the background. She accidentally makes eye contact with Steve, but she quickly looks away before she tries to ask casually. 

“What are you up to, detka?” 

You think of all the ways that you can answer this question, but none of them feel appropriate. None of them are sufficient to describe how you shove your hand between your legs and touch yourself. For this reason, you decide to just let Wanda listen. 

You take a deep breath and set you phone down on your chest, and a shiver shoots through you at the contact. You shift to get more comfortable before you groan as you slide your fingers over your clit. 

“Fuck.” 

Your breathy curse has Wanda tightening her grip on her phone, and she grits her teeth to hold herself back. 

“Y/n…”

You ignore your wife and continue to work yourself up, and you barely hear her speak to Steve as she tries to keep your moans from drifting to the front seat. 

“Steve, can you turn on the radio, please?” 

Even the sound of a familiar rock song doesn’t completely drown you out, and Wanda wishes that she could see what you were doing. Better yet, she wishes she was with you so she could put a stop to this. Or rather take charge. 

“Y/n, if you don’t stop right now, you’re going to regret it.” 

You can’t help the breathy laugh that leaves you when Wanda says this. You can imagine the look on her face right now and you shudder at the thought. The only times you’ve dared to laugh in Wanda’s face at a time like this, she kept her word about making you regret it. The distance between you two makes you bold and your fingers pick up speed before you release a groan that’s loud enough for Steve to hear. 

“Really because I think I’ll regret it if I stop?” 

Wanda considers telling Steve to pull over so she can switch places with him. Well she’d drive them like a bat out of hell, but she’d keep you on the phone somehow. She’s not sure how that would work, and she cringes when she realizes that you’ve caught Steve’s attention. Why hadn’t she brought her headphones? 

Wanda makes sure that the volume is turned down as far as possible before she sighs heavily. She’s thinking about how she’s going to make you pay for this when she hears something she immediately recognizes as a drawer opening. Wanda stiffens further before she turns her head to try and muffle her voice as much as possible. 

“Don’t you dare, Y/n. I swear--.” 

Wanda’s cut off by the unmistakable sound of a vibrator, and she nearly bangs her head against the window in frustration. In her fury, she misses the way that Steve’s eyes widen and he turns up the radio as discreetly as possible. Wanda can hear your moans getting louder as you switch the settings, and she curses in frustration. 

“Steve, drive faster.” 

Surprisingly, Steve doesn’t argue and Wanda focuses on the revving of the engine instead of the sounds that are coming through the phone. Her face is flushed in arousal and annoyance, but she’s not sure which is stronger as she listens to you get closer to the edge. She knows she won’t make it home in time, but she at least feels comforted by the fact that she won’t have to wait too long to get her hands on you. 

“I’ll be home in half an hour.” 

Undoubtedly listening, Steve speeds up even further, and if she weren’t so embarrassed by the fact that he’s certainly heard you, she’d thank him. Instead, she scowls when you barely hum in acknowledgement before you come with moan that makes Wanda shudder violently. She curses and slams her phone on her leg before taking a deep breath. Her only comfort is that Steve is going close to 80 mph. 

Wanda hears you let out a loud sigh before you shift once again before something drops onto the dresser. Wanda’s biting her lip so hard that she draws blood, but she ignores it as she promptly hangs up on you. 

“I’ll be waiting, Wands.” 

No one says anything when Steve finishes telling an abbreviated version of what happened several months ago. He looks between you and Wanda, and he’s not sure who looks more embarrassed. You’re staring into your glass with your cheeks burning brighter than anything else in the room. At least that’s what it feels like. Wanda looks mortified and she opens her mouth a couple of times to make an excuse, but she honestly can’t.

Unsurprisingly, Pietro speaks up first and it only makes his sister scowl while you just blush so hard you feel lightheaded.

“Damn, sestra, didn’t think you had it in you.”

Before Wanda can argue or at the very least tell her brother to shut up, you shoot your wife a glare that does nothing to hide your embarrassment.

“You never said that Steve was listening!”

You can’t believe that this never came up, and that Wanda didn’t just hang up on you. Honestly, of all your friends, he’s the best-case scenario because he’s so discreet and loyal. God forbid Yelena had been in the car, she would have teased you mercilessly. That said, you’re sure that your wife would have just hung up on you if she’d been in the car.

Wanda sighs before she shakes her head and tries her best to force down her embarrassment. Everyone in the room has had sex before, it wasn’t a big deal.

“You just weren’t paying attention, Y/n.”

You scowl in response, mostly because you can’t argue with your wife, but you simply shake your head before sitting back against the couch with a huff. You glare at Pietro who opens his mouth to speak, but luckily, he takes the hint, and decides to reach for his drink instead. You sigh in defeat again before you reach out for your dog who’s come to sniff around for food.

“You know, I liked it better when we were talking about you, Piet.”

Masterlist

[thesunshinecourts]

five curiosities for the next book, after reading the sunshine court

a non-exhaustive list, but five things i'm curious to (hopefully) find out more about in TSC2, or that i have questions about still:

what happened at the trojans' fall banquet (presumably jeremy's first year)? it's a Scandal, and jeremy cannot stand to be around bryson, and annalise has never forgiven him for sticking with exy after that, despite having attended all his games in high school. given the allusions to his stepfather, and also his step-grandfather being a congressman, i can see how jeremy's sexuality might be relevant to the situation—especially if we read into lucas' stiff apology and shame at his implication about jeremy and jean as being born from more than just common decency, but rather knowledge of this being a previous sticking point in terms of jeremy's scandals—but i also keep thinking about what cat said. jeremy has—three. two brothers, one sister. the way she says it, how it sticks out to jean as an odd switch, and the fact that we've only met two siblings – it makes me wonder what happened to the third. or if that's even the right question to ask, regarding jeremy's siblings.

elodie. i'm curious if we learn anything about what happened—by and large, i kinda hope not, if only because then jean has to too, unless it turns out stuart is lying, but that's a very different kind of fallout. (i don't actively theorise he is—at some point, these kids will run out of tolerance for ghost stories coming back to life—but i think its possibility ought to be considered, at least). i think we'll get more flashes of her from jean's thoughts, though, and i anticipate lots of heartbreak lmao

lucas. assuming stuart's contact comes through, and neil's hit goes ahead, we've got lucas in the aftermath of finding out his brother is a monster, and jean saying not to call the police, and then possibly his brother being dead. if it happens any other day—if it happens in west virginia, especially—i suspect lucas might be able to look at it like another domino in the ravens machine falling down, or even that something horrible happened to him when he returned home, but if it's still in LA, after what he did to jean, after jean said no cops-------i can see how that might twist into something more suspicious. who knows! i'm curious to see what happens there. grayson is a monster, but he is still lucas' brother. aaron and kevin still have complicated grief about tilda and riko, and they were their direct, constant abusers; cass never learned until after the fact, and lucas is in a complex space between the two parts of that spectrum. if grayson dies, i think the fallout will be unavoidable for exploration

this is a small one but man, i just want to keep seeing jean's list grow. it tears something out of me every time, and stitches me back together, and i want to go through that over and over, because i want to see a jean who not only hears that his life is his and worth living, but a jean who learns to believe it too

i'm just kinda assuming we see the foxes again, because i remember nora's character list having new details about characters who didn't show up in this one, but i'm also quietly hoping for more thea. their scene made me ache, and he'd never had good defenses against thea, and kevin knew that. jean would kill him for bringing her here made my heart do the !! double-tap. i'm extremely invested in jean, thea and kevin as a unit, and it would be so incredibly wonderful to see more

[r0ttenhearts]

forgotten letters

xiao x reader

synopsis: after the fallout xiao attempts to apologize via letters

warnings; angst, no comfort, abandonment, one sided

xiao licked the top of the sticky envelope, the slight bitter taste on his tongue as he sealed the envelope. the anxious feeling welled up inside of him again. the same feeling he got when he was writing the letter to the one person he missed dearly. regretting every day that passed that he didn’t greet or see with that person. that person being, you. it wasn’t a lengthy letter, he didn’t want to bother you. especially after how the last meeting had gone with you.

all of his attempts to pour his regrets and frustration onto pen and paper laid balled up in the trash can in his room. so he started small, if you’d even respond that is.

he shook off the anxious feeling, sticking his painted hands into his pocket as he walked back home. now the hard part, waiting. waiting for a response, or waiting to get ignored.

his phone buzzed with a notification from his lover. the one who was to blame for this mess. as much as he tried to justify it, he blamed her for the falling out between himself and you. he was as much to blame, but he couldn’t admit to that. not when he still yearned for his touch.

some nights when he’d lay with his lover, he’d imagine it was you. only to remember it wasn’t when she opened her mouth and the sweet sounds coming out didn’t sound like yours. nothing like yours.

but he still smiled whenever he was with her. something you fought for, but never got to see.

he sighed, clicking his phone off. his dark teal hair hitting his pillow as he had finally made it home. not even his lover could comfort him, she wasn’t what he needed in the moment. he needed you. he needed to hear you whisper in his ear that he would be okay, that you would always be there. to feel the warmth of your hugs the few times he allowed you to touch him.

his eyes closed, drifting off to a distant sleep. the dark haired boy could only dream to find peace in his slumber. but he knew he only slept as much as he did to see you. you, before the end of your friendship with him.

“i don’t want anything to do with you.” xiao spoke sternly, standing at his door. he regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. the way your face crumbled as you stood on his doorstep, mouth open slightly in shock. “you don’t mean that, xiao.” you spoke calmly but your expression showed anything but.

“i do. i have a girlfriend now and i love her. i know you’ll only cling to me and cry if i keep you around. i don’t care to entertain this anymore.” xiao waved his hand dismissively as your tears began to fall.

“fine. if that’s how you want it to be, then so be it. but i don’t want you to ever contact me or look for me when you’re alone. what a waste.” you spoke coldly as you turned on your heel. the slam of xiao’s front door was all you heard as you angrily walked away. xiao fished his phone out of his pocket, pressing on the call button to his new girlfriends contact. “hey, sorry. i was just dealing with her..”

xiao woke up in cold sweat, his body shaking as the memories of that night came flooding back. though he had said goodbye to you, he regretted every moment he opened his door to see his girlfriend, not you. he spent nights dwelling on it. the way he had told you, the way he hadn’t cared to keep you in his heart.

he wasn’t sure if he felt anything for you. the thought of you with another man, holding another man the same way you did xiao, made him feel sick to his stomach. that thought would always make its way to the forefront of his mind whenever he woke up from a dream that served as a reminder for that night.

with a heavy sigh, he turned his phone on. 56 angry texts and 10 missed calls from his girlfriend, but it was a new day. xiao slipped on some shoes and made his way to the front of his house where his mailbox stood.

he had directly put the envelope into your mailbox, and he hoped you had done the same. he hastily pulled open the lid to the metal box, finding the same card he had inserted into your mailbox, but without the envelope. he flipped over the green paper, recognizing your handwriting.

his heart swelled with excitement and anticipation as his eyes scanned over the words in your familiar script.

taglist: @samarill @whorerificstuff @scara6 @darliingyu @gh0sts0up @foxlover1144 @xiaonscaraswife @linkookie197 @lelemnh @jaderose18 @saeism @dearsumire @astrolomona @sakiimeo

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 27th of August, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 27th of August, 2024

Question: Why are we getting articles about Prince William stopping The King and Harry from reconciling?

Note: I did this reading with all upright cards, so there are no reversals.

Note 2: The energy of this reading is of an extreme impatience. I could barely sit still and focus enough to type it up. The energy is saying 'I just want this done already' and 'make it happen' while it goes off and does something else. It is very distracting and makes it very hard for me to focus, so my apologies if this reading is not as in depth as it usually is. The energy is also giving me a headache, right across the middle of my forehead. Someone is tetchy and impatient and just wants this matter finished.

Interpretation: The King wants to reconcile with Prince Harry and restore him to his old position in the BRF. Prince William doesn't agree and won't support him.

Card One: Judgement

Judgement is a card of reflection, self evaluation, renewal, second chances, and forgiveness - and of judging people.

The energy of this card is of forgiveness. The King wants to forgive Harry, bring him home, and restore him to his place in the BRF that he lost when he decided to Megxit. He wants Harry back, either as a working royal or as half-in half-out. The message here is come home, all is forgiven, you will have what was taken from you.

Then there is the Prince William energy, which says, very bluntly, No. My brother did horrible things and I am judging him on that, He hasn't shown remorse, he hasn't asked for forgiveness, so there is no way I am welcoming him back as a working royal. He will be lucky if I even acknowledge him as family one day in the future.

This is the answer to the question. The King wants Harry back, he knows he needs Prince William's support for this to happen, and Prince William is saying No, absolutely not. I will not support this.

Card Two: The Moon

The Moon is a card of lies, deceit, deception, things not appearing as they are. It can also represent the mother and pregnancy with the rounded belly, especially in astrology. The energy of this card is that things that are hidden remain hidden if Harry comes back, i.e. we keep the surrogacies hidden and don't reveal his role in them. The Moon can represent emotions and driving people crazy, so that could refer to the emotional fallout from Meghan (and Harry's) bullying. Again, this is to remain a secret.

The clarifier for this card is the Wheel of Fortune. The King wants to restore Harry's fortune, restore his good name, and that means not revealing anything more of the horrible things he has done. Everything is to remain covered up and distorted.

The second clarifier for this card is The Nine of Pentacles, the single happy independent wealthy person card. King Charles wants his son to be happy and wealthy and single, and if that means burying past misdeeds, then that is what he will do.

Prince William is not happy about this at all. That is the energy I am getting for him - unhappiness.

Card Three: Three of Swords

This is the card of despair, heartbreak, grief, and separation. The King is very upset about being separated from Harry. He wants to be able to forgive his son and have his son back at home with him (I keep hearing the words 'where he belongs'). The card shows a King being killed by family members (his wife and her lover), so either The King wants this to happen before he dies or having Harry return is going to be a death knell for him, or both.

The clarifier for this was the Ace of Cups. This is a card of new relationships, renewed relationships, loving someone, pregnancy, and motherhood. It can also be a card of intuition and spirituality, which brings to mind the recent article about The King being willing to forgive Harry after taking 'spiritual nourishment' from religious leaders. This tells me that The King really wants to renew his relationship with Harry and he is very upset that Prince William is not supporting him in this endeavour.

The only Prince William energy I get from this card is that Harry is dead to him. He has been through the grief, the sorrow, the pain over Harry's actions and he has no desire to renew that relationship and be hurt again. It is over between them as far as he is concerned.

Underlying Energy: The Six of Pentacles

This is a card of charity and generosity, of giving material help and supporting someone.

The energy of this card is of forgiveness and support. The King wants to help Harry, he wants to have his son safe at home under his wing. The picture shows a beggar (Harry) kneeling before the King (Charles) and receiving money (money, shelter, support etc). The King wants to take Harry back and he wants this to be seen as a generous, loving, good thing to do, hence the articles about the spiritual virtue of forgiveness, the prodigal son etc - The King wants to be seen as a good person for doing this.

However, in the story, King Minos took the craftsman Daedalus in and supported him, and Daedalus helped his wife betray The King with a bull and that led to the Minotaur being born and all the trouble and terror that came with that. The energy from the card says that taking Harry back will have a similar disastrous effect on the BRF and on the UK.

This is supported by the clarifier for this card, the Tower. This is a sudden, unexpected event that completely destroys part of your life and leaves you to rebuild from the ashes. Taking Harry back and giving him want he wants (handing over the Pentacles) at this moment in time would be a Tower moment of epic proportions.

Conclusion:

The King wants Harry back in the BRF as a working royal or, at the very least, drawing and income from the crown and living in a crown property. He wants to give Harry back everything he has lost so he can have his son back. This includes keeping any secrets covered up that involve Harry, directly or indirectly, so his reputation can be restored and not damaged further. There is a very strong longing for his son coming through here.

To do this, The King knows that he needs Prince William's support, and Prince William is having none of it. Harry is dead to him. He has judged Harry, he is unimpressed with the result (pain and suffering), and he is not letting him back in the BRF to use and hurt them all again.

The cards also say that letting Harry return and giving him back his previous position would be a terrible mistake, something that will unleash a Tower moment on the BRF and the monarchy.

This is not a question of one son stopping his ailing and grieving father from performing an act of Christian virtue and forgiving and reconciling with his other son. That is the narrative that is in the press (more of less), and that is not what this is about. This is about not letting someone back into the family who has the potential to hurt and destroy them all. Prince William sees this and says No. The King wants it anyway and tries to sell it to the people so he can say yes. (imo).

[keybladeciel]

Now for my two cents on the drama that ensued among the Linkin Park Community.

Content Warning: Discussions of sexual assault, Scientology, and suicide

Disclaimer: I do not condone nor encourage the harassment of the individuals or anyone with their own opinion. Additionally, this statement is intended to be read with an open mind and I may be wrong at such details. Any corrections with hard evidence is appreciated. Updates to the situation will be made via reblogs.

Like many LP fans, I was happy that there was a new Linkin Park album in the works and was amazed by Emily Armstrong's vocals in the latest track. However, this news came with some awful drama.

Let's discuss the basics. From Zero will be the first Linkin Park album with newly recorded material in seven years following No More Light, the last album to be recorded prior to Chester Bennington's suicide. To receive news about a truly new album and a new vocalist is enough to excite the LP fandom.

The new vocalist for Linkin Park is Emily Armstrong from Dead Sara. When The Emptiness Machine dropped as the newest single, the controversies of Armstrong's past reared its ugly head and caused a divide in the fandom. Namely, Armstrong was outed as a Scientologist and a supporter of Danny Masterson. Cue many fans being upset, especially detractors of the new direction of Linkin Park going forward.

Armstrong hasn't discussed her views since 2013 and she has recently posted a statement on her involvement with Danny Masterson during the court hearings he was going through. She has stated that she has no longer supported Masterson following him being found guilty of rape and made an Instagram Story of her clearing the air. The hearing she attended to was in 2020. The statement below can be interpreted has her apology for this.

As for her past as a Scientologist, she's a Second Generation Scientologist (meaning she had no say in her being part of the Church of Scientology whatsoever, let alone a religion of people who hate anything negative statements about them) and was called out by one of Masterson's victims. Again, Armstrong hasn't said anything about it since 2013. Scientologists can leave their faith, but it is difficult to do so and there are several restrictions placed by the Church. (Again, they HATE criticism and negative publicity of any kind)

Scientologists tend to ignore the topic of mental health. Many fans were pissed at such a damning revelation and believed that Chester would be upset over this.

Despite this, LP gave their support and Chester's wife, Talinda showed her support in Armstrong being the new vocalist.

As for the Masterson case, many of Masterson's former friends would logically want to see him as a good person, but have cut ties with him following his conviction (Armstrong herself stated that herself. I believe that she flubbed a spot check when her Insta reveals she stills follow Masterson, but dealing with the fallout of a friend being a monster comes with its own baggage). While some have said Armstrong was involved with a confrontation with a victim, there isn't any evidence to prove this.

The instance of Scientology requires a more realistic thought. The Church of Scientology has no problems making the lives of vocal ex-members a living hell with legal battles and frequent harassment. While we can assume Emily Armstrong herself is an ex-member, she can't be vocal about it without a massive shitstorm ensuing, especially if she's part of a band that has several songs dealing with mental health, something that Scientologists actively ignore. Many ex-members have resorted to sneaking out of the Church or even Scientology as a whole in the trunk of a car. Even if Armstrong seems to be in a place to discuss her departure, she still won't be able to without the ire of her former faith. If you analyze the lyrics of The Emptiness Machine, they deal with leaving a toxic enviroment or a cult-like place. In Armstrong's case, it can be interpreted has her stating that she has left the Church without attracting a potential shitstorm, with the lyrics feeling appropriate for leaving such a place.

All in all, this is not how the new era of LP was supposed to go down, but the use of context and media literacy is how we can understand this situation going forward.

[bettysupremacy]

The Cheerleader Curse

summary When you randomly show up at Eddie’s table, he takes your presence more malevolent than you intended

w/c 1.3k

a/n requested here!

Carol groans as Tina’s new boyfriend squeezes the meat of her hip. Turned away, he’s locked in a conversation with his teammate beside him.

“It’s sweet.” You defend.

“It’s nauseating, is what it is, I’m trying to eat here.” She takes a fry from your tray casually, popping it into her mouth.

Your nose scrunches, kicking her under the table with your white cheer sneaker. “Don’t be a bitch,” you take a handful off Tina’s boyfriends tray, dumping them onto hers. “Take his.”

She laughs loudly, biting into another one.

Tina’s boyfriend Derek turns, confused at the loudness of Carol’s laugh. “Girls.” Tommy shrugs, covering up your misbehavior. He too steals a fry from Carol’s plate, slinging his arm around her when he’s fit the whole thing in his mouth.

Tina’s shoe nudges yours. “You coming to my party this weekend?”

You dust your hands, chewing on a fry thoughtfully. “Um,” you swallow. “I think I have plans.”

Tina and Carol share a look. A dramatic, exasperated, look. “We never get to see you anymore.” Your best friend whines.

“You know we miss you at the parties.” Tina follows in suit.

You nod, understanding of their annoyance. “I just,” you sigh. “I promised I’d bring the boys to this the arcade, and we usually don’t leave till midnight.”

“Can’t Steve take em?” Tommy steals another fry. Carol swats him in the chest. “What?” He chews. “Boyfriend tax.”

“Steve works the late shift.” You shrug. “And it’s my weekend.”

“My weekend.” Tina imitates. “Why does everything always fall on your weekend?”

You frown, wary of the fallout between your friends. “He’s going through a lot.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, but his thoughts are kept quiet.

“He is.”

“We know,” Carol mumbles. “We know.”

Tina scrunches her nose at the interaction, unaware of the events that ripped Tommy, Carol, and Steve apart. “Well,” She shrugs. “If you get off the hook early you can show up.”

You nod, reaching down to pick your bag from the ground at the mention of the boys. “Of course,” you push from your seat. “I’ll be right back, don’t miss me.”

“We will.” Tina takes a fry from Derek’s plate. He doesn’t seem to mind.

The walk over to the boys table isn’t embarrassing, but it is uncomfortable. Your mind spins the whole cafeteria looking at you, wondering what is she doing? Why is she associating with them.

You flick Mike in the head when you reach. He doesn’t seem to mind, flicking your knee, but you look up guiltily anyways when you hear Eddie scoff.

“Hello?” He huffs, annoyed. This was a first. Sending a girl to do the terrorizing instead of Jason. Maybe he was absent, maybe he called you and asked can you do me a favor?

“Hi,” you nod at the older boy. You don’t know his age, but you where you are a first time senior, he is not. You don’t like the glare he fixes you with, sitting, waiting expectantly, like you’ll do something.

He’s pretty in his own way. Soft brown eyes, big curly hair. Any girl would be quick to swoon at his usual easy flirt personality.

Or maybe that’s just you.

You smile at him anyways while Dustin looks up from his picked at lunch tray.

“Hi, buddy.” Your warm hand glides over the Dustin’s cool forehead. He fusses as you smooth his curls.

“Stop,” he swats with the coolness of a teenager.

Eddie nearly jumps to scare you away, and he could. Dark black eyeliner, enough silver to shine a mile away, he’s easily intimidating. Especially when his face holds this expression of expectant distain.

Your eyes crinkle at Dustin’s flustered embarrassment. “How’re you, kid?” Its directed towards Mike and Dustin.

“Been better.” Dustin huffs at the same time Mike shrugs a fine.

You nod, hands stuffed into the oversized pockets of your varsity jacket as you roll on your heels. “You have Biology next?”

“Do you want to kill me?” Dustin shoulders droop.

“You normally love that class.”

“Not today,” he sighs, sickeningly morose as he looks up at you. “Can’t find my book anywhere.”

You frown. “That’s not good.”

He doesn’t react to the bluntness of the statement. “Tell me about it.”

“You check under your bed?” You tilt your head.

“And my moms.”

“Your backpack?”

“First place I checked, obviously.” The end of the sentence comes out with less attitude than he meant.

“Hmm,” you hum, Dustin doesn’t notice the glint in your eyes that Eddie does. “My car?” You smile.

His shoulders drop, relief and embarrassment mingling together clashingly. “You bozo.”

You pull it from the shoulder bag you currently carry. It thuds to the table loudly, but nobody outside the table seems to notice. “I know, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” He snatches the book quickly.

You smile. “Nobody’s trying to take it from you.”

Settling into your spot, you watch as Dustin shoves his book into his bag carelessly, and ignore the upset feeling of Eddie looking at you over the younger boys back. Searching the expression, you can’t find anything nice in it. Your tummy flips uncomfortably. “Well,” you nod to Dustin. “Don’t die before biology.”

“Noted,” he salutes, and you have to stop yourself from wrinkling your nose in cringe. Teen boys.

Eddie notices of course, his guard standing strong.

“Wait!” Dustin panics before you fully walk from the situation. “Steve can’t pick me up today.”

Harrington? Eddie thinks. The fuck is Dustin doing with Harrington?

“You need a ride?” You offer, but not really offer, cause you won’t let him decline.

“That-“

“I can give you a ride,” Eddie interrupts loudly, standing from his plastic seat. His fingertips push into the cold, sticky, table. “I’m not doing anything after school.”

And it’s not that you don’t trust Eddie, but who lets their children get in cars with strangers? Especially strangers in scary looking band tees.“Oh, it’s fine.” you look down at the geeky teen below you. “Right, Dustin?”

The younger boy nods. “It’s cool.”

“No, really,” Eddie continues, doing what he thinks is a favor to Dustin. “it’s no problem.”

Mike giggles from where he sits.

“Dude,” Dustin laughs confusedly. “It’s cool.”

And Eddie sits back down.

“Meet me at my car.” You point at the boys. “Don’t be late.”

And with that you turn, all the way back to your preferred table.

“That was weird.” Eddie laughs uncomfortably when you’re out of hearing distance. The whole table looks at him silently. “What?”

“We’re friends with her.” Mikes eyes zoom in. Eddie sweats.

“Didn’t you see her glare at me?” Eddie’s eyes scrunch in confusion. “And when have we ever associated with that group?”

“We’ve been through shit.” Dustin shrugs. “She’s cool.”

“And Harrington.”

Dustin shrugs again, hesitant with his next words. “He’s cool too.”

Jeff laughs loudly at Eddie. “You’re looking for a reason to be paranoid.”

“You sure your weed is clean?” Gareth chimes in teasingly.

“Fuck off.” Eddie sighs slumping in his seat. His eyes eyes lead back to you as the boys move on. He saw you glare. “They’re like a curse.”

“Who?” Gareth laughs.

“Them.” He waved dismissively towards you. “The cheerleaders.”

“She was nice.” Jeff shrugs.

“Nice until they’re not.” His head shakes seriously.

“Nice to look at.” Comes in Gareth quickly.

Jeff high fives him under the table, but Eddie ignores. The Cheerleader Curse.

A good campaign name.

“I don’t think Eddie likes me very much.” You sit back down at the table.

“The freak?” Carol asks. Tina side kicks her, shaking her head in don’t be mean.

“Yeah,” Your bag drops to the floor. “He was looking at me weird.”

“Maybe he wants in your pants.” Tommy shrugs, unconcerned. Carol swats him again.

“Gross,” She rolls her eyes. “But I did hear he has a reputation.” She pauses, glancing back at him. “Somehow.”

You look up at your friends. “What kind of reputation?”

“I heard he sleeps around.” Carol shrugs.

“I heard,” Tina chimes in, leaning into the group. “That he sells drugs in the woods.”

“He does.” Tommy shrugs. “He’s weird, but his weed isn’t shit.”

Tina sits back. “What’s his price?”

The conversation gets placed on back hold in your mind. Briefly, you debate looking back, ultimately turning to peek over your shoulder. What couldn’t he like about you? Had your nonexistent interaction turned him off of the idea of getting to know you?

For some funny reason, the thought sits in your gut uncomfortably.

“You good?” Carol reaches over the table to lightly pinch your arm. “We gotta call the Nurse?”

“No.” The shake of your head is adamant. “No, m’good.”

“Seriously,” Tommy shrugs. “He’s just weird, don’t let it bother you.”

You nod placid. “Yeah,” Your eyes flit to Eddie, before back to your friends again. “You’re right.”

“That’s my girl.” Tina’s knee knocks with yours.

You smile convincingly, nodding to your friends words. It’s hard for you to focus after that, mind clouded by the mean boy 6 tables away. You don’t look back again, don’t peek.

And somehow, Carol can see right through you.

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. 1

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist |

summary: When you let your new neighbor’s daughter inside to call her father from your landline, you never expect to be dealing with the fallout twenty years later. Series will take place before and after the outbreak, and is partially inspired by this request. Slow-burn(ish), eventual smut. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 6.4k chapter warnings: mentions of/encounters with a drunk person, references to absent parents, i imply that both reader (and joel) like pineapple on pizza. a/n: i need to get my shit together and make a proper masterlist/post for this series but i'm absolute garbage with photoshop/making collages so that is a project for another day!! for now, i wanted to get this first part out to ya'll. i watched a playthrough of the game too so ill be including some references to that throughout the series. this will be some hallmark-movie ass romance so strap in!! this chapter was super fun to write and i loved writing for reader and sarah, give it a read and let me know what you think!

-March 7, 2003- 

“Excuse me? Ma’am? Excuse me?”

The voice behind you is so timid you don’t hear it right away, especially not when your phone is pressed to your ear with your shoulder as you sort through the mail, your coworker droning on and on…

“Ma’am?” 

It’s a little more forceful this time, a little closer too, and that’s when it finally gets your attention. Turning around on your heel, you find a young girl standing behind you, one hand hooked in the strap of her backpack that hangs off of one thin shoulder, the other worrying about the butterfly pendant of the necklace she’s wearing. 

You recognize her immediately as one of your neighbors, the girl from across the street whose name you didn’t know yet, because you only moved in about two months ago. You’d met the man who you assumed was her father – Joe? Or was it Joel?, you couldn’t remember – the first day you’d moved in, but there had been so much going on that you were too flustered to be engaged.

It’s a Friday, but apparently that doesn’t keep you safe from work calls after you leave the office, because you’re getting an earful of a whole lot of hot air, so much so that you’re probably unintentionally frowning at the girl in front of you while you try to follow the conversation.

“....I think you’re right, but they’re not going to budge unless we sweeten the deal somehow-”

“Can I call you back?” you blurt, ultimately thankful for the interruption. You don’t even wait for his response before you click off your blackberry, sighing, looking up. “Hi, yeah, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Uhm, I’m Sarah…..Miller….I live across the street?” her voice goes up slightly at the end of the sentence, like she’s unsure, even as she points to the home behind her, a two-story place that’s considerably bigger than your own, but maybe a little older. “I uhm…I locked myself out and I was wondering if I could use your phone…to call my dad at work? Please?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “That’s fine. Just uh..follow me I guess.”

Tucking the stack of mail in your hand under your arm, you wave her after you, your kitten heels clicking on the hard pavement of your driveway. 

“Be careful here,” you warn her as you step over the middle step to your front porch that has rotted, and gives easily under any amount of weight. You’d learned about it the hard way, last week, and still had the bruise on your leg to show for it. 

Your front door is open, and Sarah pauses to take off her shoes when you do, a pair of beat-up white Converse that have been doodled on in Sharpie.

“Here, phone’s right there,” you lead her into the kitchen and point to the landline. “Can I get you anything to drink?” 

“Uhm, could I just get some water…please?” She stands rigidly in your kitchen, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Of course,” you reach into the cabinet. Once the glass is filled and placed in front of her, you retreat to your front living area to give her some privacy while she makes the call, sitting on the couch and scrolling through unanswered emails on your blackberry. Sarah mumbles indiscreetly, until you hear her call out again. 

“Uhm…ma’am…I’m sorry, Miss…uh-what’s your last name?”

“Oh,” you sit up, giving her your first instead. 

“Okay….Uh, my dad wants to talk to you…could you-”

“Sure,” you stand, stepping back into the kitchen, and accepting the receiver from the girl. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Joel Miller,” you’re greeted with a low, gruff drawl. “You’re the new neighbor, I believe introduced myself a while back”

“Joel,” you repeat. It’s Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel, you force yourself to remember. Joel and Sarah Miller. “Yes, we met very briefly.”

“And it sounds like you met Sarah.”

“Yeah.”

On the other end of the line, you hear him hesitate, let out a long sigh. “Look, I hate to put you out, but she lost her key to the house, and she tells me the Adlers aren’t home. Do you think she could stay at your place until I’m able to get off work in a couple hours? I know it’s a big ask, but-”

“Of course she can,” you cut him off, peering over your shoulder at Sarah, who’s staring up at you expectantly with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

“She’s probably got homework so I’ll make sure she stays quiet and out of your way. I’m so sorry, she should know better than this. It’s the second time this month this has happened, I keep tellin’ her-”

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal,” you cut him off, unintentionally, before wondering if it was rude you didn’t let him finish. It’s the native New Yorker in you, always in a rush and uninterested in drawn-out excuses. It’s an unfortunate instinct you’ve been trying to train yourself out of, particularly now that you’re living in the southwest. You soften your tone. “She can stay as long as she needs to, seriously. I don’t have anything planned.”

“Okay,” the voice on the other end sounds relieved. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I should be home by nine, I’ll call if anything changes. Thanks so much.”

“Of course, we’ll be fine. See you soon.” You hang up. 

Sarah is still behind you when you turn around, clutching the glass of water she’s got in both hands like a vice. “You can stay here until your dad gets home,” you tell her. 

“Did….did he sound mad?”

“Maybe a little stressed,” you’re honest. “But….not mad. I also don’t know him, so…”

“I bet he’ll be mad. This is the second time I’ve locked myself out this month because I forgot my key, and I already got lectured once that last time because he had to leave work early.”

“You made a mistake, people forget things…” you shrug. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, and she looks around like it’s the first time she’s actually registered where she’s at. “You have a nice house. It’s cozy.” 

“Thanks,” you put your hands on your hips and look around too. “I’m still settling in, so not everything’s unpacked, but I could give you a tour if you’d like?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ma’am. That tickles you. The address is still not something you’re used to hearing, even though you’ve only been in Austin a few years. “You can just call me by my first name, you know? Ma’am makes me feel old.”

“Really?” she grins, following you down the hall. “I can’t wait to be old.”

“You’ll feel differently someday,” you answer. “But…I guess it’s not so bad.”

Compared to the house you grew up in, your new house is nothing special, but it’s yours, and you couldn’t be prouder that you’d bought it all on your own. It’s a three-bedroom ranch, and you’d converted one of the rooms into an office for yourself. There’s a kitchen, living room, and den. But your favorite part is your large, screened in back porch that overlooks your yard. Now that it’s getting closer to summer, you sit outside in the mornings with a cup of tea and read the newspaper, listen to the birds. 

“Can I do my homework at your kitchen table?” Sarah asks once you’re finished showing her around.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever,” you answer. “I could probably stand to get a little work done myself.”

Sarah sits at your dining room table, spreads out her books, and works quietly while you answer some emails and look over some contracts. You’ve got a big meeting Monday with a potential client, and a giant stack of term sheets to go through, but if you could manage to get some of it done tonight it might actually help you down the line. As much as possible, you try to avoid doing too much work outside of your office’s standard hours, but sometimes, it’s inevitable.

The subject Sarah has homework in is algebra, which renders you useless. Even when you have to do any accounting at work, you’re used to having a calculator nearby. It’d been awhile since you spent time with anyone as young as she was – in sixth grade, she told you – and it was starting to serve as a confirmation of your own dysfunctional childhood, because her carefree, sweet nature was so drastically different from anything you remembered feeling. 

After about an hour, Sarah slowly starts to close her notebooks, zipping her pencils back up in plastic pouches. You look up from making revisions on a contract, the smell of blue ink heavy in the air around you. “I’m done,” she announces. “Could I sit on your couch and read?”

“Of course,” you answer. “Give me five and I’ll join you.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find a good stopping point, and you pack up your messenger bag, and join Sarah in the living room. “So…I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell her. “Are you?”

Sarah nods sheepishly.

“I could order us something,” you said. “What do you like?”

You aren’t much of a chef, though you can generally figure your way out around any recipe. However, cooking for one is notoriously tedious. If you had multiple mouths to feed, maybe you’d be tempted to hone your skills in the kitchen a little more. Most nights you usually treated yourself to a depressing, hastily thrown together salad, scrambled eggs, or a PB&J. Tonight, you had actually been planning to take yourself out to dinner – there’s a cute little French bistro down the street and you were hoping to treat yourself to a cocktail and a nice meal while you read.

Sarah closes her book, contemplating. “Could we….get a pizza?”

You think about it. “Sure, yeah. Pepperoni…cheese?”

“Can we get….one of both?” she tests. 

“Yeah, we can do both,” You smile. “I bet your dad will be hungry, too, he can have some if he wants.”

“Maybe…he likes pineapple on his,” Sarah wrinkles her nose.

“He has good taste. I do too.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them separate,” you call over your shoulder as you retreat to the kitchen. 

Once the pizza is ordered, you return to your living room and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from Sarah, who is engrossed back in her book. “They told me about 30 minutes. What are you reading?”

“To Kill A Mockingbird,” she says, showing you the cover. 

“That was one of my favorites growing up.”

“I have to read it for school…but it’s pretty good so far.”

Your phone pings with another email, and you glance at it quickly. 

“Is that work?” she asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. It still finds you, even when you leave.”

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a lawyer.”

“No way!” Sarah perks up. “Like on the tv shows? That’s so cool.” 

You snort, shaking your head. “No, not exactly. I’m a corporate lawyer so it’s not as fun, actually, it’s just a lot of paperwork and meetings…”

“So…you don’t like it, then?”

“It’s….” you think about it. “....Fine.” Did you like your job? It wasn’t really something you thought about in that way, you’d always seen it as a means to an end. “I went to law school because my dad wanted me to…he wanted me to work for him someday. And…that didn’t pan out so…yeah. But you know…it pays well, and….”

“You get to wear cool outfits,” she gestures to you.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Although the heels do get a little uncomfortable.”

Sarah’s eyes shift behind you for a second to the hallway leading to your bedroom, then widen excitedly. “You have a cat?” 

You turn around to see what she’s looking at, the white and gray ball of fluff that you’d found underneath a dumpster one late night in college. 

“Yeah, that’s Martini.”

“Martini,” she giggles, and the cat approaches her cautiously. He’s notoriously shy and quiet, and not even particularly cuddly, but he likes to sleep at the foot of your bed and will sit next to you on the couch if you stay still for long enough.

The cat sniffs Sarah’s outstretched hand, then presses his face into Sarah’s palm so she can scratch him under his chin, his favorite spot. “He’s not usually a fan of strangers, he must like you.”

“I love animals,” she says. “My dad won’t let me get a pet because he says he’ll end up taking care of it.”

You chuckle. “Cats are pretty easy…at least, he is.”

Martini allows himself about twenty seconds worth of affection before he darts out of the room and heads to his food bowl. 

“I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, I’ll be right back,” you push yourself off the couch and walk down the hallway. Any other night and you probably would’ve been in pajamas awhile ago but that’s probably not acceptable, so you settle for jeans and a sweater, which is much more comfortable than the dress and tights you had been in before. 

The pizza arrives and after you tip the driver, set it on your kitchen island and pull some plates out of your cupboard. You and Sarah are both long settled with full plates when you speak again. 

“Wow….I forgot how good pizza is…” you say, staring at the half eaten piece in your hand. 

“You don’t eat pizza?”

“Usually only when I’m drunk,” you say, then immediately realize you’re talking to an eleven year old. “Oops, I…probably shouldn’t be telling you that.”

She giggles. “It’s okay.”

“So, it’s just you and your dad across the street?” you ask. “Does your mom live with you?” 

The second the question registers, you immediately regret asking. Sarah shrinks before you, her face dropping, shaking her head. “No I…I don’t really have a mom.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, softly. You just assumed she existed although you’d never seen her, and you feel guilty, racking your brain for something that might help make her feel better. “I understand, my mom wasn’t really around growing up.”

“She wasn’t?” Sarah asked, looking up. 

You shake your head.  “My parents got divorced when I was young, my dad took us, and she moved across the country, so….I didn’t see much of her.”

“My mom… she left when I was a baby.”

“I’m sorry.” You say again, staring at the girl in front of you. 

For a moment, looking at her, you see yourself, and you wonder how a parent can wake up one day and choose to ignore someone that’s one half of themselves. Someone they made. If they really understood what that might do to a person’s psyche, growing up thinking that they weren’t wanted. You had always told yourself that your mother, your parents must have not understood, because if they did, and they still chose to do it…

“Are you married?” Sarah asks, and you’re snapped out of your train of thought.

Taking a bite of pizza, you shake your head no.

“So you live here alone?” 

You nod, chewing.

“Do you like it?”

You nod, swallow. “It’s better than having a roommate, or living in the city.” 

Standing up, you walk towards the fridge for a can of sparkling water. It hisses while you open it, and you lean over the counter while Sarah continues to drill you. “Do you ever get….scared? Like at night?” 

“No….not really. I have locks. And this is a safe neighborhood. And uh, I may or may not have a nightlight still.”

Sarah giggles. “Me too.”

There’s a sturdy knock on your screen door, which you’d left open to let in the cool spring breeze, and you notice Sarah’s eyes widen. “I bet that’s my dad.”

As if he heard her, and maybe he did, the guest calls out. “It’s Joel!” It’s the same voice from over the phone, but much clearer. 

“Come in,” you answer.

The screen door creaks open, the sound of boots shuffling inside. “Sarah?” It’s the same voice from the phone. Joel steps into the warm light of the kitchen.

When you first met it had been from a distance, you were carrying boxes and he was loading something into the back of his truck. It’s clear you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him, wouldn’t have forgotten his name, because fuck, he’s kind of gorgeous…tan skin, dark wavy hair, and a sharp jawline covered in stubble. In the archway to your kitchen he looks huge, taller than you remembered.

“Hi Dad,” Sarah says. “Miss-“

You cut her off simply by saying your first name. “Nice to meet you…again.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, and thank you so much for keeping an eye on her. We’ll get out of your ha-”

“We got you pizza,” Sarah pipes up, looking at him. You can tell that she’s trying to stall. Or at least, trying to offer him something that might soften the inevitable lecture she’s going to get. It’s a smart play, and definitely not something you would’ve been above trying at her age.

Joel looks at the three pizza boxes spread across your countertop. “You didn’t have to feed her, really, like I said, she should’ve known better,” he turns to look at her pointedly.

“I had to eat anyway. Please, help yourself. There’s a ton of leftovers,” You really did not want cold pizza in your fridge, because it’d be too tempting to eat as a late night snack or even breakfast on your way out the door in the mornings.

Reluctantly, he looks at you before taking a plate. “Thank you,” he turns to his daughter while he opens one of the boxes. “Did you get your homework done?” 

Sarah nods. “And I got ahead on my reading for English.”

“That’s good.” 

Joel turns back to you, settles in a chair with the plate of food in front of him at the island. You do the same. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to come over and properly introduce myself. Sarah too.”

You shrug. “I’m the new neighbor, that’s probably my responsibility anyways. It’s been kind of hectic settling in.”

“Where’d you move from?”

“Well, I’ve been in Austin for the past few years, but originally I’m from Manhattan.”

Joel nods. “Why Texas?” 

It’s far away from my insane family, you think, and then settle on something else. “Work.”

Sarah is staring at her plate and tearing a piece of crust into tiny pieces. Joel eyes the slice of pizza he’s just taken a bite of.

“Pineapple?” he looks over at Sarah. “Are you tryin’ to bribe me so you don’t get in trouble?”

“It’s my favorite, too,” you offer, then wink at Sarah when Joel isn’t looking. She tilts her head down, her hair hiding the grin on her face from her father.

A buzzing sound cuts through the room before Joel can answer, and he digs in his pocket to fish out his cell phone. “Hold on, I gotta take this.”

When he steps out of the room, you begin to clear the empty boxes and plates off your kitchen island and bring them over to the sink. Sarah brings her plate over as well, stands next to you at the sink while you rinse them off and load them in the dishwasher. 

“Thank you for dinner,” she says. 

“Of course,” you answer.

“I just really hope he’s not disappointed with me.”

Placing your hand between her shoulder blades, you give her an encouraging pat. “I don’t think he is….” you hear Joel on the phone in the other room, his voice rising in volume. “....and honestly….it sounds like he might have bigger fish to fry…”

“Tommy…are you fucking kidding me? Again? How many times is this gonna happen? Okay…fine. fine. I’ll be there soon, but you can’t keep doing this shit.”

Sarah grimaces, and you both turn back to the sink sheepishly when you hear Joel’s footsteps returning. She bumps you with her elbow while you clear your throat. 

You’re sure there’s still a residual smile on your face when you turn around to face Joel, who has his hands on his hips. “Alright, Sarah, we gotta get going.”

“Is everything okay with Uncle Tommy?” 

“No, I’ve gotta pick him up at the police station.” 

“Did he drink too much again?”

“Sarah!” Joel exclaims. “Please, it’s gettin’ late and you’ve got a soccer game tomorrow, you need to get to bed.”

You’re biting your lower lip so hard to keep from laughing you almost taste blood. It’s not funny, definitely not funny to Joel, who you can tell is having a rough night, but it’s objectively funny as an outsider, watching all their familial drama being put on blast by his daughter who doesn’t quite have a filter yet, and is first and foremost trying to protect herself from getting into trouble.

“She’s a lawyer, I bet she could help Tommy,” Sarah looks over at you. “Couldn’t you?”

Joel frowns. “That’s not how that works-”

“What’d they bring him in for?” you ask. 

Joel runs a hand through his hair. “Public intoxication. Are you really a lawyer?”

“Well…I’m a corporate lawyer so that wouldn’t really be my specialty. But uh…I’ve definitely been able to talk my friends out of that kind of thing before.”

“But this is not the first time,” Joel says. “It’s probably useless.” 

“Didn’t you say you can’t afford to keep-”

“Sarah, enough.” Joel’s voice is as stern as you’ve heard it, and he digs into his pocket, producing a keychain. “Go home and get ready for bed. I’ll be home in a minute.”

Sarah sighs, defeated. “Okay.” 

Joel stands dead still while she shuffles to the door, cramming her feet in her shoes with her backpack slung over her shoulder. 

By this point in the evening, you’d usually be curled up on your couch by the fireplace with your latest knitting project, moderately stoned, watching bad reality television and sipping sleepytime herbal tea. But your night has already gone drastically different from your expectation. Why stop now? “If you wanted…I could try to help.”

Joel shakes his head, looks at the floor. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask,” you shrug. “I offered.”

He looks up, a soft smile breaks across his face, revealing a row of straight, sparkling teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It’s the first sincere smile you’ve ever seen from him, and your knees feel a little weak at the sight of it. You think you might offer him anything just to see it again. “It’d be a huge favor. But….I’d appreciate it.”

“Alright well…” you look around, push yourself off the countertop. “I probably should change before we go. I don’t think I’ll be taken seriously in this.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I need to make sure Sarah gets to bed alright, how ‘bout you meet me on my porch in ten?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks again,” he raps his knuckles on the counter twice before retreating, and you stay in place until you hear the screen door close behind him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I feel like you’re meeting us all at a very chaotic time….I promise, things aren’t usually like this.” 

Joel’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify this to you on the drive to the police station. In fact, he might be saying it more to convince himself, because he thinks ever since Sarah’s mom ran off, things have never not been chaotic. 

In some ways, he’s glad it happened. It was a doomed relationship from the start, they’d both been far too young to understand the consequences of their actions, so it was probably for the better that she was no longer around. But he was caught in a constant state of feeling like he could never quite get a handle on things. 

Joel glances over at you in the passenger's seat of his truck. He decides that you look a little out of place there, dressed in a black pantsuit, a messenger bag tucked between your heel-clad feet. He can’t remember the last time there was an adult woman in his car. Three months, maybe? It had been a date, a third date, and subsequently, a last date. But right now the context is different.

Your head is tilted towards the open window, the breeze casting stray pieces of your hair around as the radio cuts in and out of an old Eagles song and then to static, and then back into music again. He needs to get his damned stereo fixed but unfortunately it hasn’t exactly been high on his priority list. His gaze travels down the slope of your neck, where your skin dips into the collar of your silky blue blouse, then back to your profile, your lips moving as you mouth the words to the song, but don’t sing. 

I get this feelin' I may know you

As a lover and a friend

You stop when his words register, turning to look at him, and he averts his eyes back to the road. “No offense or anything….” you say. “But compared to the family I grew up in….this is all pretty tame.”

Joel ponders that for a moment, notices the way your eyes are narrowed, the corners of your lips quirking. “What, you got a problematic little brother, too? A precocious eleven-year-old?”

“No kids,” you answer. He didn’t think so. “But I do have a problematic older brother. And the stress he’s caused has definitely taken years off my life.”

At least you seem like you understand. 

He’s shocked you’re in this car with him, that after entertaining his daughter all night, you’d offered to help him out with this Tommy mess. Though, he assumes you’re doing it out of guilt because Sarah made it sound like he was broke.

“You know for the record, I actually have the money to bail him out.”

“I figured.”

“Then why’d you come?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. My life has been pretty boring lately. I can’t remember the last time I did something exciting on a Friday night.” 

“This is exciting to you?”

“It’s objectively exciting,” you sound assured. “Maybe more exciting than being the person who got arrested for public intoxication.” 

Despite the stress of the evening, he can’t help but laugh. 

“And whether you’re broke or not, bailing someone out of jail is no joke. If you can at least try to talk your way out of it, you might as well.”

Joel can’t argue with your logic.

“What is it you do again?” you ask, eyeing the protective glasses he has in the cup holder of his front seat. There are nails stuck between the rubber grooves of the mat beneath the seats, a pair of thick gloves resting on the dashboard.

“I’m a carpenter.”

“Makes sense,” you answer. “So you’re handy?”

“You could say that,” Joel lifts the can of flat, warm seltzer from his lunch break to his mouth, just to take a sip. 

“That’s hot,” you say, and he nearly chokes when he hears it.  Are you….flirting? Though, you can’t be, because when he looks over at you, you’re staring at the road, face neutral. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t make the rules of what’s hot and what isn’t….it’s just a fact. Everyone knows that.” 

“Do they?” 

“Uh-huh,” you respond. “I mean, I wish I was handy. I’m pretty much a lost cause in that department.” 

“If it paid the bills, you’d figure it out.” 

“If it paid the bills, I can tell you, I would not be living in our neighborhood.”

Joel puts his blinker on, preparing to pull into the police station. “You probably still could, it’s not that nice of a neighborhood.” 

“Shut up,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “But in all seriousness, it is peaceful. It’s quiet.”

“See, but you still didn’t say nice.”

“It is nice. I like it.” 

When he parks the car, you straighten up, unbuckling the seatbelt and exiting without a word. On the opposite side of the truck, he observes how you rebutton the front of your blazer, smooth down its lapels and shift your shoulders back before turning to him. 

“You ready?” you ask. 

He nods. 

“After you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Joel spots you again, Tommy is walking a few paces behind you. You turn your head over one shoulder, smirking at whatever he’s saying. From where Joel is sitting in the lobby, he can just make out the soft curve of your hips, the tops of your thighs over the barrier that separates him from all the desks of the officers and staff at the station. You’ve got an easy, relaxed gait and you give Joel a wink when he catches you staring.

He can tell it’s just meant to be celebratory thing, since both you and Tommy seem to be in good spirits, but he likes the sight of it anyways, the idea that you’re both in on some secret that no one else is. 

Joel stands to greet you and his brother to get the download, but as he approaches, your group is intercepted by one of the cops that had been hanging around reception. 

“Miller,” he says lowly to Tommy. “This better be the last time I see you in here.” 

When Tommy doesn’t answer right away, you pipe up. 

“I assure you my client will be on his best behavior.”

The cop turns to you for a minute, turns back to Tommy, contemplating. “You’re lucky you have a good lawyer…” he says. “Although I’m still not convinced you’re really paying someone to get you out of a public intoxication charge.” 

“I-” Tommy opens his mouth but you cut him off.

“Alleged…intoxication,” you interject, stone-faced.

“He can hardly walk straight.”

You purse your lips. “But….you never did a sobriety test, so, would it hold up in court?” you grimace. “If I had to guess….probably not.”

The cop narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t push it, princess.” 

Despite the infantilizing nickname, You respond with a polite smile. “Thanks again, officer. Have a nice evening.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs before backing away. 

You turn to Joel, your smile fading, and Tommy cuts in. “We should get the fuck out of here before he changes his mind.”

“That’s it? You’re free?” Joel asks.

Tommy nods. 

“Tommy’s right, we should definitely leave.”

It’s a mad scramble, the three of you settling back into Joel’s truck, and if he was feeling a little less angsty about the way the whole evening had gone, he might’ve even peeled out of the parking lot for dramatic effect. But at this point, his patience is wearing thin.

He’s back on the main drag, en route to Tommy’s place, with you on the passenger’s side, and his brother in the back, leaning forward with his elbows resting on your seats when his brother speaks up.

“Holy….shit!” Tommy turns to you. “That was fucking awesome, are you kidding me? Joel, where the fuck did you find her?”

He’s still drunk, words slurring together, and he shakes both of your shoulders ferociously. You actually giggle — the sound of it is fucking adorable and Joel wishes that these are not the circumstances for hearing such a noise. He rather it be because of something he said, but he knows Tommy has always been more charming, even when drunk 

“She’s my neighbor, Tommy.”

“No way! How come I’ve never seen you around before?” Tommy asks, and Joel can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

“I’m kind of new to the area,” you answer. 

“Dammit, oh my god, Joel, I wish you coulda seen it.”

Joel looks over at you, and is thankful that he catches your eye. “What’d you say?” 

“Never underestimate your negotiating power when the cop you’re talking to’s shift ended over an hour ago, and he doesn’t want to fill out any more paperwork.” You cross your arms, look over your shoulder at Tommy, who is leaning back against the seat with his head in his hands, laughing, before looking back at Joel. “I told you, I have experience.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy pokes his head back between you. “How’d he even get you to come down here? What’d he have to do, offer to paint your house or somethin’?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Sarah got locked out again,” Joel explained. “And I was over at her place when you called. She’s a corporate lawyer.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You know, Joel’s always liked the smart ones,” Tommy starts, and Joel has to contain the urge to slam on the brakes and send his brother face first into the back of his headrest. Unfortunately, he can’t do that with you in the car. “Too bad he’s dumb as a box of rocks.”

“Okay, watch yourself!” Joel snaps, and he’s only halfway kidding. “You got off easy, but you’re on fuckin’ thin ice, and I’m still pissed that I’m spending my night bailing you out again.”

Tommy doesn’t even catch on to Joel’s irritation – or maybe he does, and has just decided that he’s going to be the Annoying Younger Sibling and see how far he can push it. “Don’t let him fool you, okay?” Tommy continues, and you’ve angled yourself towards him, amused. “It’s not always him lookin’ after me. Before he had Sarah, he was crazy.”

“Alright, alright that’s enough, Tommy.” Joel shoots daggers towards his brother in the rearview mirror, and he watches Tommy’s smile falter, finally deciding to back down. 

“Is that true, Joel, were you really crazy?” you ask after Tommy grows quiet, tilting your head. “I can’t see it.”

“Well we’ve all have our moments, right?” he says sheepishly. 

“We do,” you agree, and then it’s finally silent.

Joel is thankful to see Tommy’s driveway straight in front of him, and his car lurches up the curb. “Alright, alright, this is your last stop,” he says to his brother. “You’ll get in okay?” 

Tommy takes a deep breath, settling himself after all his bravado and sinking back against his seat. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at Sarah’s game.” He slinks out of the truck and slams the door behind him. 

Normally, Joel would’ve chewed him out after something like this, but he knows being hungover tomorrow at a middle school soccer game, sandwiched between screaming parents and the ear-splitting whistles of the referees will be punishment enough.

“I’ll see you then.” He watches his brother stumble up the steps to his home, unlock the door, and give a wave before disappearing inside. 

Joel’s left alone with you. “Should we get you home, now?”

“Yeah, we should.”

Joel puts the car in reverse, puts one of his arms over the back of the bench seat to look for cars behind him, and catches you staring. You don’t even seem embarrassed that he notices, either, you just shift your gaze away to outside the window.

He feels a little self-conscious about the first impression he’s probably made, which is a feeling he’s not used to…caring about what people think. 

“Sorry about him, he’s….a good guy but a real piece of work.”

You giggle. “Like I said, I have a brother, too.”

It’s been awhile since he’s interacted with anyone outside of Sarah, Tommy, and his coworkers, and his day was exhausting. He wants to ask more questions, see if he can hold some kind of conversation, but words fail him, so you spend the short drive on the way back home mostly in silence. You’re so quiet that by the time he pulls into your driveway, he thinks you might be asleep. If you were, he doesn’t even get the chance to wake you, because you immediately sit up straight once the truck has come to a halt.

“Thanks for everything tonight,” he says. 

“You’re welcome, it was no problem,” you get out of the car, sling your bag over your shoulders, and close the door. “Have a good night.” 

Joel’s listening to the retreating click of your heels up the driveway when he rolls down his window all the way to speak again. It’s clear you’re tired, your shoulders are slouched, and he feels incredibly guilty. You worked all day and then had to put up with his entire crazy family. 

“Hey,” he says. “How much do I owe you for the pizza?”

You turn around, still stepping backwards. “Nothing.”

“Look, you’ve done too much for me tonight to say that,” he says. “I’m startin’ to feel bad.”

You stop in your tracks then, the smirk on your face fading a little bit as you slowly step forward to where he leans out the truck window. It’s only a few feet, but you’re much closer now than you’ve been to him all night, and there must be jasmine in your perfume. It smells expensive, he thinks, as your hands lift to rest on the door next to his elbow. “You shouldn’t feel bad,” you say softly, voice low. 

God, you’re fucking beautiful, he realizes, basked in the glow of the moon, a smile creeping along the edges of your lips. Of course, he knew you were attractive, had definitely registered it at some point before –  maybe when he’d walked in on you and Sarah giggling in the kitchen. He was just too busy being worried to even notice until now. 

This isn’t a date, but you’re so close he could kiss you, kind of wants to just to see what would happen, but he doesn’t. You’re his new neighbor, and if he’s reading this wrong, he doesn’t want to be reminded of the mistake everyday, first thing in the morning when you’re picking up your newspaper at the end of your driveway and he’s leaving for work. 

“But uh…if it would make you feel better…one of the steps on my front porch is rotted. Maybe you could come over sometime and fix it? That a fair trade?” 

Joel nods, and you stick out your hand. “It’s a deal,” he says, ignoring the jolt of energy he feels when your palms press together, like you’re a kid wearing a hand buzzer, trying to shock him.

“Great,” you step away. He’s about to put the car in reverse when you speak again. 

“Oh, and Joel?” you ask, he looks back at you. Before you speak again, your eyes shift to the ground, like you’re mustering up the courage to ask him something, and when they return to his again, your expression is somber. “Go easy on Sarah….she’s a good kid.”

Joel nods, understanding.

“I know.”

-

volume ii

taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg

[midnightsnyx]

what if i told you (i love you) part 1 - joel miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: five years ago, pregnant and alone, you left boston after a fallout with joel but when he shows up in jackson, you have to deal with the aftermath. word count: 1.4k warnings: angst (loads), mentions of pregnancy, non-specified age gap, (please let me know if i missed something!) a/n: this is my first time writing joel so pls go gentle on me lol I am planning on making this a series if u guys like it! let me know :) i know joel is usually pegged as a girl dad which i love but i thought it would be fun to write a mini joel! this isn't edited so i apologize for all mistakes. also i am taking requests now so ask away! masterlist ask box what i write taglist signup

You hadn’t anticipated seeing him. When you left the Boston QZ five years ago after finding out you were pregnant, you never wanted to see Joel Miller’s face again. Not after you broke the news and he told you to get out - that he wanted you gone. Tess had told you to give him a few days to cool down and let the news sink in, so you did. You waited a couple days, which turned into a week and another and once a month passed, you realized you couldn’t wait around for Joel to get his head out of his ass so you packed up and left Boston. You had heard rumors of settlements out West and took the chance of going to one. It was a risky move, especially being pregnant, but raising a child in the QZ was impossible. Bringing a life into this world alone was cruel but if you could make it to one of the settlements, you thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And you did. After months of traveling and close calls, you made it to Jackson. You couldn’t believe how close to normal it was there. It felt like before the outbreak which felt impossible but somehow they did it. You made friends and had support when you finally delivered. 

Little Jack came into the world with the helping hands of Maria and your friend Avery. You named him after Jackson, the little community that welcomed you with open arms. He was absolutely perfect and as he grew, he looked more and more like Joel. It hurt you that Joel wasn’t here to see his son grow but he had made his decision the day he told you to leave. 

The life you built in Jackson was good enough. You taught at the small school in the morning and spent the rest of your day with Jack and your friends. Every so often you went on patrol but with Jack, you had to find someone to watch him. Avery offered to keep him for the afternoon while you went out with Maria and some others for a quick patrol. Someone thought they heard gunshots going off and your group was sent to check it out. You thought you would come across some raiders or maybe a couple stragglers but what you weren’t expecting was to find Joel Miller and some random kid. It didn’t surprise you that he was looking for Tommy and you watched for Maria’s reaction when he told her his name. 

In Jackson, Joel’s name wasn’t a popular one to those who heard it. Tommy had recounted the days that he, Joel, Tess and others had spent that still gave him nightmares and you didn’t have many good things that you shared about him. You kept the good things to yourself and only let yourself think about them on nights you were particularly lonely or sad. She hid her reaction better than you would have but you were a little surprised when she invited them back to town. As soon as you got back, you went straight to the stables to drop off your house before going to pick up Jack from Avery’s. You wanted to just go home but he fought you tooth and nail to go to the dining hall to see Hazel, an older woman in Jackson who was the first person to take you in when you first arrived. She treated you like a daughter and in turn, treated Jack as a grandson. 

When you got there, Hazel was delighted to see him and you couldn’t help but smile when Jack squealed and ran straight for her. Watching them, you felt a set of eyes on you and when you looked, they met Joel’s. As usual, his expression was impossible to read. He was sitting with the girl, Ellie you’d briefly heard, along with Tommy and Maria. 

“Some new folks, huh?” Hazel asked, breaking you out of your daze. She knew the story about Joel so you were hesitant to tell her who they were but she would find out eventually.

“Yeah, Tommy’s older brother and the girl is Ellie,” you told her, “apparently they traveled all the way from Boston.” 

You watched as the realiztion slowly dawned on her face, hiding an amused smile when she said, “where’s my shotgun?” 

“It’s fine,” you tried to reassure her, “I don’t think they’re staying.” 

She huffed, “I should’ve poisened that food.”

You shook you head, taking Jack when he reached out to you. He was getting sleepy, resting his head on your shoulder and babbling nonsense. You could still feel Joel’s gaze, so you told Hazel you would see her tomorrow and started walking out when you heard your name called.

Tommy. 

You weren’t sure what his plan was, he knew your past with Joel so you took your time walking over to where the four individuals were seated. Maria was giving Tommy a dark look and you knew she didn’t agree with his interfering. 

“Hey,” you said lightly, trying to ignore Joel’s eyes that were now focused on Jack. Ellie was looking between you and Joel and you could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. 

“I was wondering if you had time to take Ellie to the house next to yours and let her have a shower? Maybe find some new clothes?” Tommy asked and held his hand up when Joel started to argue. 

“Sure,” you said, motioning for her to follow you. She gave Joel one look before following you out the door. It was cold and you hugged Jack, who was now asleep, tighter to you. She was silent until you were a couple minutes away from the house, whistling. 

“So, I take it you and Joel know each other?” She questioned, walking faster to keep up with you. You wanted to drop this kid off before she accidentally got answers out of you. She continued pestering you after you just shrugged and you wondered how Joel, of all people, managed to make it from Boston with the girl. She seemed sweet enough but lord, she was chatty. 

“What’s his name?” She asked, pointing to the sleeping boy in your arms as if there was another child around.

“Jack,” you told her and she smiled.

“Like, Jackson?” 

“Nice catch,” you praised and she grinned. 

You showed her to the shower, before searching for some clean clothes. It took a few trades but you managed to get her some fresh clothes and a new jacket. When you returned to the house, you ran into the one person you were hoping to avoid. He froze when you walked in the front door, clothing in hand and Jack still on your hip. Your back was aching from carrying him but he was unusually clingy. His eyes locked on Joel, head tilting slightly before reaching out for the older man, surprising the two of you. Joel stood frozen even as Jack reached for him, whining slightly. 

It was Ellie who broke the awkward silence, walking down the stairs in the fluffy robe you left for her. “You gonna take the kid, or what? He’s not contagious.” 

You were hesitant to let Jack go but after he let out an angry wail, you put him down and watched as he walked over to Joel and reached for him, making a grabby motion with his tiny fists, the universal pick me up signal from a child. The man awkwardly picked him up and you immediately saw the similarities between the two. You always thought he looked like Joel but looking at the two of them together, a paternity test wouldn’t be needed.

“Woah,” Ellie said, taking Jack’s hand when he reached towards her, “he looks just like you.” 

You ignored the insinuating tone in her words, opting to watch the interaction between the two boys. Joel’s sole attention was now on the toddler in his arms. His whole body softened when Jack rested his head on his chest and you suddenly felt a rush of emotions. Shoving the clothes in Ellie’s arms, you took Jack from Joel and fled out the door, ignoing both voices calling out to you. You didn’t stop running until you were in your own house and rushed to put Jack to bed before going to your own room. Not bothering to change, you crawled under the covers and tried to hold back the sobs threatening to escape you. 

You had spent the last five years trying to get over the heartbreak Joel Miller caused you and suddenly the man himself showed up and brought back evey single feeling you had for him.

And you hated him for it.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Fantasies

Also on AO3

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Escort!Fem!Reader

WC: 2.6k words

Summary: I've done escort!Cooper, so I thought i'd try the inverse ;) // Your favorite regular, the Ghoul, drops by at the Atomic Wrangler for a visit.

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, crossover (fallout new vegas and fallout tv show), smut, formalized sex work (prostitution/escort), unprotected p in v, radiated creampie (with implied radaway use), swearing, shenanigans in front of a mirror, fingering, alcohol mention, vague dom/sub dynamics, just a little fluffy, two fools who can't get enough of each other, lmk if anything else!

-------

The Atomic Wrangler was just as he remembered — swimming in smoke, as if lost in a hazy dream, the ringing of the slot machines and the clacking of dice an accompanying symphony. Drunken patrons shambling about or slumped in shadowed corners, chips spilling from their pockets. Bar fights that were quickly, and often messily, dealt with. 

It wasn’t the best place to gamble, he didn’t think, especially with how well he knew the Garrett twins and their wiles. But that wasn’t the reason for his visits, anyway, so it didn’t really matter to him.

At certain tables on the main floor sat sultry figures that whispered promises of ecstatic oblivion. The deepest fantasies come true, if only for a few hours before sunrise. It was worth every cap if it was in the right company, and he happened to be very particular about who he wanted around. 

He knew you usually hung in the anteroom, and he even caught a glimpse of your skin in a rather low-backed dress as soon as he rounded the corner past the front desk. James Garrett caught his eye momentarily in silent question, to which he nodded in response. That meant you’d be booked for the rest of the night – his and only his. 

Since you’d transferred from the Gomorrah, you were a hot commodity around there, and therefore could charge a much higher rate. You also had the chance to pick your own clients, which hadn’t really been an option before, so you were much more exclusive because of it. 

But out of the handful of regulars you’d amassed, you only had one favorite. You heard him before you even saw him, what with the telltale jingling of his spurs, and when you did see him, a slow, easy smile spread on your lips, mirroring his.

Ruggedly handsome as ever, the same easy swagger and suave edge. His hazel eyes on you felt like a promise – like a caress – and you felt a fire begin to simmer under your skin. No one had ever made you feel the way he did; How quickly he could get your blood to warm, pupils blown wide with desire. No matter how much time passed between visits, he’d become a permanent fixture in your body, impossible to forget. 

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in…” you drawled, casually leaning against the bar. “Back so soon, Cooper?”

He chuckled slightly. “Were you countin’ the days ‘til you saw me next, sweetheart?”

You shrugged one shoulder, playfully noncommittal. “Were you?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, following your game. “Guess you’ll be finding out soon enough.”

You let out an amused huff, giving him a once over. “You want your usual drink?”

He nodded and you pointedly leaned over the bar for a quick word with the bartender. He noticed some other patrons craning their necks to get a better look, eyes wide as saucers at the vast expanse of exposed flesh. A few of them noticed him hovering nearby, and any who dared to make eye contact were met with a smug wink and grin. 

Under his gloves, his fingers itched to touch, but he kept his hands to himself. The building anticipation would have a greater payout, he already knew, and he wanted it all to be for his eyes only.

Unfazed by the outside attention, you turned back to him with a bottle of scotch in hand and a suggestive glint in your eye. 

“Lead the way, then, cowboy.”

He clicked his tongue twice for you to follow, making his way back to the main room and towards the stairs. His room — which James had given him a key to for helping with some rather pressing business — was at the very end of the hallway. It was the most spacious out of all of them, but it was sparsely decorated, only meant for temporary visits. Still, it was a nice little sanctuary for you two to escape to. 

“So, what will it be tonight, hmm?” You said, setting the bottle down on top of the old dresser. “Wild cowgirl for you to tame? Or maybe you’ve got some … ailment I can take care of for you?”

You opened the closet door and took out a cowgirl costume and an old nurse’s uniform, flirtatiously raising your eyebrows at him. Many fantasies had been played out within those four walls, and you certainly didn’t mind playing a little dress-up. 

“No, none of that tonight,” he said with an amused huff, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

You tilted your head to one side in curiosity. “What would you have me wear, then?”

He made slow work of taking his gloves off, his eyes roaming down and then back up equally slowly until he was holding your gaze. 

“Well, that’s just the thing… I don’t want you in anything at all.”

You smiled, putting the costumes away and leaning against the door as you closed it. “That can be arranged…”

You reached up to undo the top clasp of your dress, but he raised a hand to stop you. 

“Woah there, I ain’t in a rush. Do it slowly…” 

You complied with a small chuckle, undoing the clasp but not letting the straps fall quite yet. You turned around and then let them fall, glancing coquettishly at him over your shoulder. One corner of his lips tugged upwards in a sly grin, and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. 

Without turning around, you shimmied it down your hips and heard his sharp inhale as he saw you weren’t wearing panties. You felt a flutter in your stomach at the sound, intoxicated by your effect on him. Still, you didn’t bend forward for him to get a better look at the apex of your thighs, wanting to string him along for a little while longer. He had said he wasn’t in a rush, after all. 

As the fabric fell to the floor, you stepped out of it, only shoes left to discard. You grabbed a chair and sat across from him, extending your leg to rest it on his lap. Another playful grin on your lips as your hand snaked down to cover yourself in a faux display of demureness, your eyes downcast. 

“I could use some help with my shoes, if you would be so kind,” you said, a sultry edge to your tone. 

His eyes flicked down to where your hand was resting as he swallowed hard, but he kept his bravado close as he undid the straps of your high heels and carefully took them off. His hands caressed your calves but went up no further, almost like a test. You gave him a look that said good boy, but he found a challenge within that look, as well. 

“Now, why don’t you come sit a little closer? Don’t much like how far you are right now…” he said.

You raised an eyebrow, practically halfway on his lap already. “That so?” 

He patted his thighs. “Oh yeah, got a whole lotta space right here with your name on it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you stood. But before you could straddle him, he turned you around and sat you down on himself. Affixed on the wall in front of you was a dirty full-length mirror, and he kicked the chair to one side to get a better look at your reflections.

“There we go, much better,” he said, caressing your arm with one hand until it was over the hand that you were covering yourself with. “No need to be shy now. Pretty sight such as yourself… Can’t just let you miss it.” 

You squirmed on his lap, but he held you fast, burying his face in the crook of your neck and kissing the sensitive skin there. You let him remove your hand and spread your legs, arching against him as his fingers lightly traced your inner thighs. 

“You sure don’t waste any time,” you said, trying to sound teasing, but you couldn’t help a small gasp as he cupped one of your breasts with his free hand.

“Somethin’ about you, darlin’… just can’t seem to keep my hands to myself when I’m around you,” he rasped, nipping your shoulder with his teeth.

Slowly, his hand slipped further up, past your sternum and your throat. His fingers dipped past your lips and your tongue circled around his digits, a low hum in your chest. 

“Go on, get those nice and wet for me,” he said, craning his head to look at you, hips bucking upwards as he felt the sudden suction of your mouth on his fingers. He groaned, his voice raspy as he spoke again.“Oh, just like that, sweetheart.”

You moaned, his fingers pressing down on your tongue for a moment before releasing. His hand immediately dipped down, his hips adjusting so he could keep your legs spread over his. When his fingers found purchase, you felt it surge through you, your back taut as a bow. 

“Holy fuck, Cooper.” You gasped.

He chuckled smugly. “Didn’t I tell ya you’d find out soon enough?”

The words melted away before you could try to respond. Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back against him. He grasped your chin with his other hand, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“Keep those pretty eyes open, darlin’. Don’t you wanna see how I’m makin’ you feel so good?”

You complied with a nod, your eyes training on your reflection. The sight of his hand’s slow, methodical ministrations on your clit, spreading your glistening slick through your folds, stoked the fire burning low in your belly. 

Your eyes met his through the mirror, the intensity in his gaze nearly making you shudder. He kissed your shoulder and nipped gently at the junction where it met your neck. You squirmed against his grip, pleasure intensifying almost to the point of overstimulation.

Your voice was shaky as you said, “I-I think I’m getting close already… Fuck…”

“That so?” He hummed thoughtfully. “Better not look away again, then, ‘cus if you do, I’ll stop.”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to glare at him through the mirror. “You’re so mean.”

He chuckled, taking it as a challenge to be even meaner. His hand found a quick, sloppy rhythm that nearly had your body going into overdrive. You could feel his cock straining in his pants against your backside, heard his barely contained groans in your ear as he made sure you didn't break eye contact. The slight humiliation of watching yourself come undone – so wanton and desperate – tinged with the threat of him stopping, finally toppled you over the edge.

With a cry, your muscles seized up as you felt heat spiral outwards from your core. He worked you through it, even as your legs shook and your knees tried to draw close. In the aftermath, your body went slack against him, your breaths coming out in ragged pants. You smiled at each other mischievously through the reflection. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I can’t say I hate it…” You said, chuckling weakly. 

“Oh, and that was just the start of it,” he said, voice husky. “I’m nowhere near done with you… Or did you forget how long our nights usually are?”

“How could I ever forget?”

You slid off his lap and knelt in front of him, eyes glittering as you reached to undo his pants and pull them down. But before you could even try to get your mouth on him, he hoisted you up and onto the side of the bed on your stomach. You let out a small yelp of surprise, the tips of your toes barely touching the floor as he positioned himself behind you. 

“God, are you just not gonna let me do anything to you?” You teased, resting your head sideways to glance at him from the corner of your eye. “I want to touch you, too, you know.”

“You’re forgetting this is my fantasy,” he said, clicking his tongue. “And what I want right now is to make this body of yours feel as good as I know how to. Ain’t gotta do much else but let me spoil you.”

You felt him press against you, the textured skin of his cock sliding against the swell of your ass. You wiggled it a bit, half plead and half tease, eager for the stretch and weight of him inside you. You felt his hands spreading you from behind, getting a better look. A low, rough groan and he couldn’t take it anymore, notching against your entrance and pushing inside. 

You moaned loudly at the immediate stretch, feeling every inch. Your torso lifted, but one of his hands came to rest on your head, pushing you back down against the mattress. With his other hand, he gripped one of your hips tightly, both possessive and ardent.

“Fuck, you’re nice and tight, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Feels so good squeezing around my cock.”

Your walls fluttered around him as if in response to his praise. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, exhaling it slowly to keep his composure. He leaned more of his weight on top of you, his thrusts hard and slow, punching breathy sounds out of your throat every time he bottomed out. You tried to get a better footing but to no avail, instead surrendering to his mercy. Or lack thereof, as it were.

The sounds you were making were loud and unrestrained, like two animals mad with spring fever. Flesh slapping against flesh, breath, and teeth, and sweat intermingling. His body pushed and pulled over you with the intensity – the violence – of rolling waves. God, you had missed this a little too much. 

“C-Cooper,” you whimpered, unable to say anything else.

“That’s it. Just let go and give it to me, doll,” he panted, his movements harder and faster.

You felt yourself dissolve once more, eyes rolling back into your skull as you squeezed tight around him. He made a strangled noise, pushing through for as long as he could until he felt ecstasy wash over him as well. His warmth filled you, pushed deep inside by a few last shallow thrusts.

When he pulled out, you barely had time to catch your breath, unable to help a dizzy laugh. He pounced back on you soon after, when you’d playfully tried to crawl away from him. 

It was perhaps a good thing the room had so little furniture, given that you probably would have destroyed it all, anyway. No corner was left untouched as you two seemed to play an unending game of cat and mouse that always ended the same way… only in different positions. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me!” You said, collapsing on one side of the bed and tucking a pillow between you as a barrier.

He chuckled, lying on his side facing you. “Tough luck, sweetheart. Sure don’t seem like the sun will rise any time soon…”

“So that’s how it is, huh? What if I get you next?”

He smirked, a primal edge to the curve of his lips. “You can certainly try, but you better move fast, ‘cus that barrier ain’t gonna protect you from me for long.”

You bit your lip to contain a grin, feigning being aghast. Still, though, despite these threats and the imminent exhaustion, the last thing you wanted was for morning to come. 

Not that you would give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud, though. At least not unless he worked particularly hard for it…

Well, perhaps he was starting to get close enough. Maybe he would get lucky one of those nights.

-----

[buckets-and-trees]

Imagine coming home from work and Bucky is waiting for you like this🥵

This is the Bucky you come home to when he's been gone for weeks. He gets home from the mission well before he knows you'll be home from work. He showers the blood and dirt off, but he can't wash away all the troubles from his mind. The mission went well enough, but it was rough, and more than one "for the greater good" decision was made, and he knows they were necessary, but it doesn't make any of those tough choices easier.

He didn't quite mean to be waiting for you like this, he intended to put some clothes on, but he made the mistake of turning the television on and switching it to the news. They told him not to watch the news, but he can't help it, especially when they tell him not to. He becomes consumed listening to all the analysis of their fallout.

When you unlock the door and immediately hear the hum of of voices from the tv in the living room, you smile and hurry to hang your jacket and toss your bag on the little table in the entry. You lock the door behind you, and then make your way quickly down the hallway. When you see him engrossed in the news commentary, you pause, take a breath, and smooth down the front of your shirt. Bouncing and excited can be channeled into a different kind of happiness, one you know he needs more right now.

You cross the room, and instead of jumping into his arms, you switch off the television with the remote, and then crawl into his lap, straddling his waist. His arms wrap around you, and you cup his face in both your hands. You press your forehead to his, and you both close your eyes, breathing each other in.

"Welcome home, love."

You won't force him to talk now. He'll talk when he's ready. Now all you want is to show how much you missed him, how glad you are that he's safe and sound, and how much you need him, and you start with pressing your lips earnestly to his.

"Missed you," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Me, too," you breathe as his hands slip up beneath the hem of your shirt, one warm and one cool reclaiming the territory of your soft skin beneath his palms.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[gold-rhine]

Inazuma Rewrite part one

This is bullet points rewrite for Inazuma general plot structure, bc I think it had so much potential, but was horrifically scuffed in game. If I keep something from canon unchanged, I’ll just say so without retelling the entire thing to keep the length down, bc it’s gonna be A LOT already.

Some disclaimers: I’m not trying to fix every single problem, just what I see as major structural failures. I will reference my problems, but you can read my explanations on them more in depth in my “inazuma ranting” tag.

This is also not envisioned as free for all fanfic where I can write whatever I want, but aimed to be actually feasible to see in game, bc it’d be unfair and I want to show that Inazuma could be improved in the same constraints that hoyo writers had. So please don’t ask why I didn’t do wildly inconsistent thing that would be cool, but genshin would never actually do.

I’m aiming to retain all relevant lore and achieve basically same worldstate in the end, including character arcs, for the most part, because I presume them to be integral to the larger strategic plotline of the game. Which means I can’t drastically change characterization and major plot beats like the decrees, rebellion, Raiden has to be a sympathetic ally in the end, etc. I’m also trying to keep genshin’s general tone and modus operandi, bc like, target audience includes 13 yolds and I can’t just “make Inazuma good” by turning it into like, a gruesome and complex power struggle of political factions like Fallout New Vegas.

List of main issues I want to address: pacing in general, rebellion pacing especially, lack of impact and continuity of effects of vision loss on people, lack of setup for the stasis vs transience aka ei vs makoto conflict, character arcs: raiden, ayaka, kazuha, kokomi, yoimiya, kujou sara. And more! 

Initially I wanted to make a single post, but it’s already 3k and I’m only up to Raiden’s first duel and I plan to cover post-archon quest content too, like Raiden and Yoi story quests, so I decided to split it up instead of posting like 20k monstrosity. So remember, this is for now mostly a setup.

EDIT: Part 2

Raiden’s motivations\Reasons for vision hunt

Ok, so one of the biggest principal changes is that vision hunt and sakoku decree are active Raiden’s decisions, instead of Fatui’s plot that she’s just passively allowing to happen. Raiden closed the country, but she’s ok with Fatui starting a civil war and selling delusions, bc it doesn’t “affect eternity”, like??? I honestly think that the current plot of her people dying in a civil war meant nothing to her is much worse than her starting vision hunt decree out of misguided plan to ultimately do better for people.

I mean ok, we have to have closed borders to reference Japan’s history, sure, but like, the whole point of isolationist policies like this is to prevent the outsiders’ influence on the country. So she should not be ok with Fatui schemes at any point.  

I mean, if it was fallout new vegas AU, I’d keep it to show that dictator doesn’t not care about foreign powers exploiting it’s people as long as it profits the empire and helps to keep people subjugated, but like. Then raiden can’t be uwu waifu. So we gonna give her good intentions and integrity, but misunderstanding of humanity due to closing herself off instead.

Now to why would she close the country and institute sakoku decree. I want to tie this in with another plotline that is just. Kinda floating at sidelines at the moment, but I think could work nicely in tandem. The Scaramouche destroying Raiden Gokaden, the five schools of weapon smithing, which were canonically highly valued by Raiden.

I’m not gonna recount Scara’s entire plotline, but basically he went on a misguided crusade against Raiden Gokaden and managed to cause fall of 4 out of 5 weapon-smith schools.

Game says that he like, tampered with the schools and covertly led to their ruin, which like?? They never found anyone guilty, like the most prized weapon art smiths of your country fall apart and you’re like oh well, I guess Yashiro commission is just bad at it’s job?

There is a plot point in this story where Isshin weapon smiths, unable to replicate a faulty design that was Raiden’s commission tampered by Scara, were scared of Raiden’s wrath and decided to flee to Snezhnaya. I want to change it to be that there is an event, where ALL weapon schools receive same commission at the same time, and Scara tampers with it.

Just as in canon, scared smiths, but now from 4 schools, not one, are manipulated by Fatui to flee to Snezhnaya, But we add a new NPC, the most talented blade smith who had a vision. Fatui frame him as the ring leader, as if they were running not to save their lives because of the tampered design, impossible to fulfil, but that this was a betrayal because of his ambitions.

After this, Raiden has legitimate cause to feel like her eternity is threatened. She sees weapon art schools, one of the most prized country’s traditions being ruined in a moment because of what she thinks is ambitious hubris of one vision holder, who colluded with outsiders. So she closes Inazuma and declares a vision hunt, to prevent this from ever happening again.

But ironically, in truth it was the fault of not just Fatui, but specifically a puppet without a vision that she herself created and failed to supervise. This brings the main idea of the plotline from “Fatui evil, Raiden passive” to “Solipsist goddess who doesn’t understand humanity tries to protect her people by locking them in stasis and taking their ambitions, but the real case of tragedy was her negligence and lack of empathy all along, and this is what needs to be changed.”

Interlude and plot setup

We start with similar plotline. Traveler tries to go to Inazuma, learns that it’s closed, talks to Inazuman NPC to learn more. Here we’re introduced to the general idea that Inazuma was closed off due to one traitor blade smith with a vision who sold off Raiden Gokaden to Fatui.

We go to Beidou’s tournament, which goes basically the same, we meet Kazuha and watch a beautiful cutscene about his dead friend who challenged Raiden to a duel, and now Kazuha tries to find someone who can reignite his vision. I will actually add changes to Kazuha’s storyline, but it be will later.

then we arrive to Inazuma, go through the same bureaucracy loops with Thoma on Ritou, to show the barriers to outsiders and also to illustrate how Thoma is the best fixer when he manages to drop a fee from 1 mil to like 10 gold by promising to have a dinner with government official.

But we’re cutting the second part of Ritou, with the boring plot about like merchant from Mond scamming people with the local police and then Traveler delivering love letter or whatever. I mean, we can keep this as an optional side quest, if like hoyo thinks the lore about love letter is essential for the Ayato’s quest or smth, but not as an Archon quest.

Instead, we put a part of Yoimiya’s quest there. I think Yoi’s quest is relevant enough to stay in the Archon quest, unlike Ayaka’s, but it’s slapped into a place where it ruins pacing. So instead, we’re cutting it up in parts and inserting it into main storyline.

On Ritou, while doing bureaucracy bullshit, we meet Yoimiya, and play the part of her quest about her helping a guy with a vision to escape from his former best friend, who is now a guard hunting him. It helps to show the rift that vision hunt brings not only with the outsiders, but with inside of the country as well.

Ghost of Makoto\Transience setup

another key point that I think is integral to fixing Inazuma is planting seeds for Makoto’s reveal from the start. I really like the Stasis vs Transience conflict from raiden’s second story quest, where raiden believed in eternity as lack of change, a perfect state maintained until the rest of time, while her twin Makoto believed in eternity as never-ending change, where people’s dreams constantly evolve, nature of them chasing these dreams never changes.

but it feels like it came out of nowhere and raiden just speedruns character development in like an hour, so a lot of people ended up feeling like it was just about Raiden mourning her sister, instead of raiden coming to understand makoto’s belief system and through that unlocking makoto’s final connection and then being able to let go.

so we need to first of all, introduce makoto’s ideas of transience from the start, and also empathize the conflict of them with raiden’s stasis.

and it doesn’t mean we’ll spoil the reveal about the second raiden shogun! we don’t have to ever use makoto’s name, just her title as a raiden and sprinkle her ideas throughout the land. We know hoyo area designers can do that stuff really well (guizhong’s relics being scattered all over liyue, rukkhadevata’s shadow in the aranara quest).

like, it’s strange that Makoto primarily ruled and shaped country by herself while Ei was just a warrior, yet we do not have Makoto’s influence visible. We need to add ideas of transience into fundamentals of Inazuma,

“Transience is the dream of the nation of thunder. We find the greatest joys in mortal life in fleeting dreams, for is life itself not like the shadow of the thunder? Pursue your dreams into the clouds if you wish, and enjoy the unexpected silence of the dim lamp-lit nights.” - Guide to Transience talent book.

add these ideas all over the place, esp near sakura. And let’s draw player’s attention a couple of times specifically to the internal contradiction of these ideas of transience being integral to inazuma and raiden’s current hatred of change.

like, we need even 13 yolds and twitch streamers to remember this, so lets make paimon say like

“Huh, this shrine to raiden shogun says that eternity is the pursuit of fleeting dreams, but doesn’t raiden shogun fucking hates dreams?? I wonder, what made her change her mind about them to the total opposite!“

this and more subtle puzzles\locations with focus on transience for people who pay more attention will add the much needed setup for makoto’s reveal

Kamisato siblings

ok, first things first, Ayato being absent without any explanation while his little sister is plotting treason and his malewife Thoma is about to be executed on the streets is unacceptable.

like I know it’s marketing or whatever and he’s not being released but we need his model, hoyo. If we 200% CAN’T have his model, we need to come up with solid excuse why he’s not here. Like idk, he’s helping the war refugees or smth

And we need hints at his presence\influence throughout the story. Like oh, here’s group of refugees who were helped by Yashiro commissioner, they are relocating to new homes, I guess Ayato is really busy. Oh, here is Fatui’s camp where everyone is slaughtered and boba tea cups are littered around, I wonder what is up with that.

and also, Ayaka is organizing resistance behind his back, and we never meet him bc Ayaka actively tries to hide traveler from him.

bc like, Ayaka doesn’t have a development arc in archon quest. She’s just kind of there, being perfect. Like in her story quest that hoyo makes you do at gun point, you like, go on a date, learn that she’s lonely and has trouble connecting with people due to the pressure of having to project an image of perfection and societal distance, do an investigation to uncover her late mother’s fox fursona roleplay diary which she used to cope her with own societal pressure. Which like. Ok, sure, but but this wet socks quest is not an archon quest material. It should be just a normal story quest.

no, Ayaka’s real conflict is wanting to prove herself to her brother, bring real difference to the world. This is her ambition, she literally gained her vision while fighting Ayato in a training, she wanted to show him that she’s strong enough to handle responsibility, he named her Shirasagi Himegimi after she won that fight

but during a civil war, watching people suffer, her role as a cultural figurehead is not enough. She wants to help, but she’s afraid to act, because this will undermine Yashiro Commission and her brother worked so hard to build it back up after Raiden Gokaden fall. so she organizes resistance behind her brother’s back in secret, to help, but without compromising Kamisato name

this basically tracks with what happens in game, but we spell it out and expand on this later.

Getting Traveler to help

next, let’s throw out the weird edging introduction where traveler is not allowed to see Ayaka the first time. like??? bro, we’re friends with 2 archons and heads of their governments, you’re not that important. and it can’t be to protect her identity, bc like. You go to Kamisato estate! You’re told who she is! If you wanted to betray her, that would be enough already.

another awkward thing is that Traveler, who agrees to do every stupid quest they meet, suddenly refuses to help the resistance.

I think we should reframe their convo a little, like Traveler says hey I’d love to help, but my primary goal is to get info about my sibling from an Archon, so I don’t want to go against her.

To which Ayaka says oh, I totally get you, you see, I am myself a culture figurehead and a nominal princess and I can’t speak up against the decree, bc that will hurt Yashiro Commission. But I’m not asking you to fight Raiden Shogun in a duel or smth, I’m just asking you to help people with the resistance, which we do totally in secret. No one will know! Also, how are you going to see Raiden? She’s locked up and doesn’t appear in public. But my big brother is a head of the Commission, if anyone can get you an audience, it’s him. So help me help people and I will ask him to help you see Shogun!

she secretly believes that after traveler sees ppl suffering, they will change their mind and help willingly, same as in canon, but she’s more subtle about it

Rebellion connection

my other problem with vision hunt is that the 3 quests they force you to do about meeting people who lost their visions are like. not good. The concept is interesting, but they are just kinda boring and meandering. They lack dramatic impact. They could do better. So we’re not doing these 3 quests rn, but don’t worry about it, we will get to the effects of vision loss

Instead, ayaka sends us to help Yoimiya and we do the same quest we do in archon quest - help her to free someone from prison dungeon. It goes the same, we get to the dude being mistreated by cops, Kujou Sara steps up and lets us go

But then it’s like, we need to get this dude out of Inazuma city. Cops know he escaped! They will just come for him again! There is only one place that will take him and it’s the watatsumi rebels.

Common complaint about Inazuma is that other countries feel like found families and Inazuma doesn’t, bc characters from resistance and rebellion basically don’t interact, and it’s true. And like, we can get them together! Thoma knows Kazuha, Kazuha knows Gorou, Gorou in canon went to recoinsanse missions to Narukami island.

So, Gorou visits the tea house to pick up the Vision Dude, and the gang has the hotpot meet up. Everyone is there (except Kokomi bc ok hoyo, we’re saving up for dramatic battle reveal, and i think her reveal would fuck up banner schedule). Ayaka, Thoma, Yoimiya, Kazuha, Gorou. and Teppei! Who is here bc he was recruited by Gorou. He’s actually from Narukami island, not Watatsumi, and he had nothing to do with visions, but he’s an idealist, he believes in freedom, so he joined rebellion. fun times are had, Ayaka tries to play srs bsns lady host, but breaks into giggling at The Shenanigans, Gorou is overly polite but adorable and apologizes to Ayaka about The Shenanigans in which everyone but him participates, Yoi is a life of party and the Shenanigans and later has to be bodily stopped by Kazuha from organizing fireworks right here, right now, Thoma and Teppei both get sick from eating Ayaka’s nasty cakes that she threw into soup, bc Thoma is just into oral stuff and Teppei is so earnest and eager to prove himself and impress ppl, haha comic relief, look how sweet and funny this guy is and all characters get along so great with him

bc like, I think Teppei has a problem of a) not having enough screen time b)not having any interesting characterization moments to make him stand out 3)not having other playable and already likeable characters interact with him

so this scene can serve not only to bring that “unlikely bunch of people becoming friends and working together” connection to life, but also to endear Teppei to the players

Vision Loss Effects\ Yoimiya and Thoma

ok, next Ayaka asks Traveler to do that one quest about martial arts master losing their vision. I think it’s the one quest from 3 about vision loss with most drama, but the real reason is that it introduces Yae Miko and we need to do this before leaving for the rebellion. Like, in theory, it could be switched to another, better quest that lets us meet Yae Miko, but honestly, this is not one of Inazuma archon quest problems so I can’t be arsed. Feel free to imagine a cooler intro instead.

when we go back to tea house, we learn that Yoimya’s vision has been taken away. She has been recognized in that last prison raid and the guards came for her later, and she didn’t fight bc there were kids and her old father around.

She’s completely changed. Her innate optimism, her belief in people and their dreams has been drained from her like a sunshine from a dark cellar. But she’s still Yoimiya!! She came here to warn you bc she still cares even if she had her own joy taken from her. She tries to smile and reassure you that it’s ok, she’s fine, but her smile is visibly strained, she’s never had to fake it before so she doesn’t know how. She wears a vision, but it’s a fake one, because her pops said that maybe having it here would help and she agreed, tried to pretend for him that it does help, bu. It very obviously doesn’t.

Ayaka is horrified. She apologizes to Yoimiya, tries to think of ways to help her, but Yoi just laughs humorlessly. “It won’t ever touch you, princess.”

She’s immediately disgusted at herself and apologizes, tries to take it back, this isn’t her, she would never say this, and not to her friend! But also, it’s so hard to care now and she can’t remember why it’s so important to care at all.

Ayaka is shaken. Bc it’s true! She is a privileged noble, vision hunt will not come for her! She is playing at the resistance from the safety of anonymity, while people like Yoimiya actually risk themselves and pay the price!

And this is when the news that Thoma was arrested and about to be 100th vision taken at the feet of the statue comes. Tenryou commission truly strikes back.

Ayaka is in uproar. She’s ready to go herself and fight for Thoma, especially after Yoi’s words. She’s sick and tired of being a perfect princess, she can’t allow any more of her friends, her family come to harm because they don’t have her protection. Clearly Thoma being a theatrical execution is a blow specifically against Yashiro commission and Kamisato family in particular, and if Shogun has beef with her, well, she can settle it with HER instead of going after her friends!

Traveler stops her. This is what they want. If Ayaka openly moves against the Shogun, the entire Yashiro commission falls. Even if Ayaka is in the right! No, it’s the Traveler who will go to save Thoma

But traveler needs raiden’s good will for the info, they can’t confront raiden openly, it was the deal from the start!

But at this point traveler has seen too much, the divide in the country, the change and suffering of their own friends, and they can’t allow all of Yashiro commission take the fall.

This is when the Traveler decides to take a stand.

ACT 2

[icyblogs]

god bless u for the 141/fallout post i’ve been going feral thinking about a fallout au where simon is a pre-war ghoul who fought in the great war and still wears his power armor to hide that fact 🙏🙏 better yet even simon/reader fallout au where they were married before the bombs fell, and being a military wife she was lucky enough to get a space in a vault but ended up in cryo-freeze while he became a ghoul and they meet again 200 years later

Fallout!AU Ghoul!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader WC: 1.2K words Note: Hi anon! I had to do a little research about how exactly ghouls and cryo-freeze functioned, sorry for getting back to you so late! (does it still functionally make sense no but shh its fine) Anyways, I hope you enjoy! (:

Ghost who was already in the process of becoming a ghoul before the Great War! Already a renowned soldier; one of which was elected for a new experimental drug. For the sake of humanity he was told, after all, doing this will guarantee a spot in the vaults for him and his precious little wife! Doesn’t he want you to be safe? Though he might not have necessarily agreed with the means, don’t the rewards outweigh the consequences? Doesn’t he want to live out the rest of his days in peace with you? For a good vault- wanting the best for you. 

These tests, these experiments.. would end up taking a toll eventually. Too late for you to ever see of course. Well, by the time the great war actually starts, it’s far too late to see the effects of it at all. The experiments required him to stay on base- very seldom ever actually seeing you. “Just a few more weeks.” You were constantly told, and of course full heartedly you’d believe him. Why would he have any reason to lie? So when the first bomb drops.. And then the next. It was no surprise when you were forced to go into a vault without your husband, so scared. All alone without him. ):  

The experiments therefore spiraled, the results becoming null, nothing necessarily coming from them- too many variables being added. And with the radiation from all the bombs well.. He was no longer a ghost but a ghoul. 

He’d be similar to ‘The Ghoul’ in the show in my opinion! Fighting his way through the wasteland, killing, maiming- adapting. Becoming the monster that was always sort of lingering beneath the skin, going back to baser instincts. Everything he did was for his vows. For you. See, I'd imagine that he would wear a power-suit at first, especially when his skin starts to sort of stretch and shrivel, like a burn— eye sockets sinking, nose concaving. If he had found you, he didn’t want you to see what he was becoming; his humanity unraveling faster than he could keep the spool pulled taut. 

Though.. the first year passes. Then the first decade. A century. Two. 

Eventually time slows to a lull; without direction nor guidance. Always sort of be bordering on turning feral, one mishap away from just totally snapping. Enough for life itself to become a constant loop of just sort of.. apathy. Life wasn’t kind enough to people like him, never allowing anything good to stay in their lives. So why would it in this hellscape as well? Going through this so-called life like it was nothing more than a hindrance. Traveling through the land, taking on dead man’s jobs; not caring for the consequences at this point. Because what really was the point without you by his side? Never forming attachments, after all, why bother? He’d outlive them anyway.

Throughout the years, settlements pop up left and right- factions forming, most dying out faster than he could blink. These days, vaults come to the surface- trying to rebuild, kind to any poor soul or raider that they come across, like sheep walking right into the maws of a wolf. Then.. a new community sprouts up. 

Groups of thousands coming up to the surface, building a town- starting a new life. It really wasn’t anything new; Ghost had seen it and experienced it before. Would be a year or two at most of having a bed, having a steady access to food and drink- the meals always tasted like ash, if he thinks hard enough he might’ve remembered how your cooking tasted. He could blink and he was back in his home, watching you sway to some music on the radio, donned in a frilly apron, and you’d turn around and he could swear he could smell what you had in your hands. His imagination always ended up the same way; his eyes would eventually lead up to where your face was; blurry and being forgotten- he’d startle back to the reality at hand, mood darkening. 

So this new community. It wasn’t really a question of whether he was to make his way there, if not to stay for a brief moment of peace then to swindle them out of some supplies. Because at the end of the day they were vaulters. Nothing in the grand scheme of things: would probably die to some raiders anyway. They were always so eager to please, to see the good in people, and they were just so welcoming and hospitable. 

And then he saw.. you. 

The dreams, his imagination- the fog seemed to clear the moment he saw you again; even from a distance.. It was just how he had remembered you- his wife. You look like you haven't aged a day, donned in a blue clad jumpsuit. Simon watches with a dry mouth as you provide a kind smile to one of the people next to you, nodding your head as the pair of you attempt to cultivate the soil. He sees the way you jolt when the man’s hand brushes over your own as if he had shocked you- and his own eyes narrow at the sight, staring unblinkingly as if he might miss something. 

A mirage, it was easy to think. A trick of the light even- the radiation boiling his brain enough to fuck with his head, to give him some twisted hope about something that should not be possible. You.. should be dead. Long gone and yet- why were you in front of him? A phantom? Another way to mock him?

The more he looked he knew it was not the case. He could hear your voice- the cadence, all sounding just as how he's remembered it for the last eon. It made him wonder however- why were you smiling? Why.. were you laughing? He wasn’t with you- so why did you seem so happy then? 

There was something about a corpse yearning for someone full of life even still; for someone who was unburdened by centuries of an unforgiving and cruel world. He felt like Icarus, wanting to get closer; to see if he would melt if he got too close to the warmth. He’d be willing to burn if it meant that you were within reach again. His left hand felt heavy as he flexed it to try and release some tension, gold band digging into his skin. And with how sweet you looked, it only made his teeth ache and fingers twitch over the handle of his gun, longing to be with only you. Would your skin be as soft as he remembered? His throat felt dry, taking a step forward, aching to herd you back to where you belonged. Would your body still sing for him, even as your husband has turned into a monster, even as the stench of death and rot seems to follow him everywhere he goes? 

Would you still remember him? ..Did that matter at this point? He’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After all, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.