#he GETS it. and by IT i mean the crushing loneliness of grief

[bikananjarrus]

rereading passages from eye of darkness is really just like damn. need to shake george mann's hand fr

[daemon-in-my-head]

I think a prerequisite to understanding Durge and Gortash is understanding the movie Midsommar and its ending. Or rather, how people get lured into cults. It's probably weird to some, but people do incredibly fucked up shit as long as they're lonely enough. As long as they are starved of enough affection.

These guys were completely isolated. One murdered everyone they ever knew without meaning to, only to be snatched up by the person that would manipulate them, and the other one was rejected and discarded by everyone they loved before his brain could even develop properly. They were alone. The entire fucking world rejected them. Nobody batted an eye when they were suffering far beyond what anyone should have to go through. Everyone that mattered to them disappeared in the blink of an eye. At least Gortash certainly spent years like that, for Durge it's implied but tbf the initial event alone would've been traumatic enough.

And then, eventually, when they were at complete rock bottom, after suffering so much, so long, someone came along and offered them acceptance. Offered them affection, offered them the chance to belong somewhere. To have a place to be, a role to play. To be someone. To find people with the same mindset. To find people to admire and to be admired by. They were offered an escape from the overwhelming loneliness and grief. They were offered to be accepted for once.

People will ruin themselves to fit in or to gain the love of another. And they did just that. They blindly ran into the knife because they were promised to belong for once. Because of the simple promise they wouldn't be rejected.

It doesn't rectify what they did, but gods is it understandable that they did what they did. People have done worse for less. They are vile. They're monsters. They're horrible beings. But they were conditioned into it. They were manipulated to such a frightening degree that they willingly chose to follow masters who would torment them even after death, knowing what they were getting into, but still choosing it just to escape the fucking loneliness. They gave themselves up just to belong. They certainly are to blame, but so are the people who's sins they've inherited.

And just to be clear, that's also the major difference between Karlach and Gortash. Karlach initially grew up being somewhere, being accepted, being loved. Yes, she, too, was betrayed and sold, but she was an adult when it happened. She knew love. She knew what it was like. She could rely on that glimmer of a hope that the world didn't outright despise her. Gortash didn't. He was sold as a fucking child. He never knew. He didn't have the resources. He was just fucking desperate and already broken and crushed in ways you could never break Karlach. She had loving parents. Gortash's mother wished she would've killed him before he was even born. Karlach was loved once, Gortash has ever since been told the world would've been a better place if he simply didn't exist.

Also, congratulations, this makes durgetash so much more painful to think about. Cuz they were willing to reject whatever helped them survive for the affection of one another.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐮𝐢 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 6.1k

chapter summary: you and joel take your relationship to the next level.

warnings: themes of grief and loneliness, hurt/comfort, fluff, body painting, joel being a very lousy nude model, oral (male receiving), heavy petting, fingering, shower sex, edging, dirty talking

a/n: aaaaand we're BACK-- the hiatus is officially over and I am so ready to focus on this series. I've missed them so much and I hope you guys all did too 💗 also special thanks to @undercoverpena for cheering me on while I was writing this, love you to the moon and back bby xx

Chapter Eleven || Chapter Thirteen

Loneliness had never been a stranger to you. You had your own brand of it, like a homemade fig preserve. Being so close with it, you’ve added something from yourself, and in return, it has branded your personality in such a way that it has become hard to think there was anything but. 

For the longest time that special brand of loneliness had been your closest friend. During adulthood, you noticed how tired you were of asking for people to be emotionally aware of your needs, your wants. You were tired of spelling it out for them. Your parents weren’t like you, neither was Auggie. No one around you was emotional like you were, so you learned to keep it locked tight in your heart. You cried at night. You smiled during the day. You felt off and weird when family members hugged you and wept on your shoulder, you dissociated. You’ve noticed this, especially at your grandfather’s funeral. He was gone and you hadn’t shed a tear among the dark black fabrics. 

Auggie knew you did this, but alas, it didn’t really matter. 

So when you found a family emotionally rich despite not having much, it came as a mild shock to you. Sarah didn’t have these issues. She didn’t care if she was emotional or not, or if what she said came off as needy. The only emotional constipation you noticed was between brothers, but even that didn’t stop them from addressing what they felt during an argument. 

You were no stranger to emotional outbursts. Reading a book and eyes welling before you could finish a sentence. 

Now, you feel less lonely thanks to Joel, Tommy, and Sarah, each filling a different gap in your withered soul. But even that doesn’t stop the old habit of sewing your mouth shut. 

You wake with a heavy weight on your chest. It’s still dark, the sky a dark shade of royal blue. It’s actually a beautiful night. However, your eyes are blind to it. Your skin is damp with sweat. If you saw a nightmare, you don’t remember what it was. You remember going to bed uncomfortable, Tommy’s sad eyes branded into your lids like tattoos you both want to and don’t want to get rid of. 

You gradually rise from the bed, the thin summer quilt sliding off your now cold body. You shudder. It had been a long time since you last felt this way. Empty and lonely. It always feels like you have to suffer through these emotions on your own, your need to smile through it more prominent than anything else. 

You smack your lips together, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You need water. Ice cold water. 

Going down the stairs you don’t think how dark it is, or how some particular shadows remind you of your childhood when you would wake up thanks to the jarring sound of mosquitos, looking for comfort downstairs where your grandparents were usually up. Fuck, your chest is even heavier now. The muscle in your chest more like a cannonball than heart. You’re hyper-aware of the way your chest rises and falls with every breath and quickly, you make your way to the kitchen. 

The light of the fridge momentarily blinds you but despite your burning irises you manage to wrap your fingers around the familiar handle of the old jug. You pour yourself a big glass and take small swallows.

A soft wind caresses the outer skeleton of the house. The shadows of leaves dance over the walls, again, a familiar sight that drags you back and makes you sick simultaneously. 

“You a’right there, sweetheart?” 

You jump at the sound of a voice deepened with sleep. Tommy is staring at you from the entrance, brows furrowed, the crease between them so much like his brother. Taking another small sip of water, you swallow and place the cold glass on the counter. 

“I’m fine,” you grit out, your voice leveled. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.” 

Before you know it, Tommy’s warm hands are on your face, cradling your cheeks. His thumbs move over your cheekbones, pressing and applying pressure over the bone. Your heart skips a beat. It takes you everything not to lean into his touch, to seek out that comfort only he could give. But you think of Joel, you think of him, and you stop yourself. If Tommy knew about you and Joel, if you were completely honest with him—an open book, you would’ve taken that comfort to yourself, not a worry in your heart but he doesn’t know and that alone makes your stomach clench with guilt. 

“You don’t look fine,” his hands slide down to your shoulders. “Was it a nightmare?” 

You blink heavily, your eyes locked on one another. Two broken people in a dark kitchen. It pains you that a nightmare is Tommy’s first guess. You wonder how many times he’d woken up to the faux scent of gunpowder and screams only to be comforted by the darkness of the ceiling. 

“Something like that. I. . sometimes forget that they’re gone,” your eyes drop to his chest. “And then I remember that no matter what, in the end, I’ll be lonely.” 

“Lonely?” he spits out the word, shocked, hurt and baffled. “What are you talkin’ about? You have Joel—You have me.” 

You know you do. You really do. But after years of going through it all alone, to see your friends have their own support systems and people to protect them, care for them, it’s hard to believe you’ve found your people. It’s hard to believe that years of solitude where you had to take care of yourself was over. Old habits die hard. Your heart shatters piece by piece. Your heart nothing but a heavy weight in your chest. You want to collapse, to scream, shout and cry. Salty tears sting the corner of your eyes. Suddenly you’re drowning in your past like it’s still your present, the thickness of it goes all the way up to your neck and you can’t breathe— 

“Hey—hey,” Tommy cups your cheeks, thumbs running down where tears would be but your skin is dry. “Come back to me, it’s a’right. I’ll always be with you, you know? Even if you move far away, I’ll always be a thorn in your ass.” 

You crack a smile and manage to nod, placing a hand over his own. You think a tear finally falls, maybe even two. You hate feeling like this. Hate it. Tommy doesn’t look convinced by your expression. 

“Do. . .do you want me to call Joel?” 

His words freeze you to the bone. Of course, he would ask that—Tommy Miller, always thoughtful, always putting others first. They both do. You even think to some extent Sarah does the same thing. All of them throwing themselves in front of a moving train in different ways. 

You don’t know if he’s noticed something. Or if he just thinks that Joel’s presence would be more soothing, since he’s used to relying on his older brother. 

Either way, you want him to know that he’s enough. 

And he’ll always be enough. 

You shake your head, “No,” he furrows his brows when you part your arms. “But I wouldn’t say no to a hug.” 

Strong arms sneak under your armpits and broad palms press against your back. Tommy pulls you incredibly close. Holds you indescribably tight. His scent fills your lungs. A bit of sweat mixed with a day-old deodorant. He smells nice. He always had. His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile widely this time but he doesn’t see. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” you whisper into the darkness. “I would be lost without you.” 

“Are you sure you’re a’right?” 

“Yes, Joel.” 

“Hundred percent sure?” 

“Yes, sir,” you declare, your gaze fixed on Joel as you peer from the side of the canvas for a better look. “Now stand still.” 

Joel grumbles something inaudible and straightens his neck, attempting to keep his limbs as still as possible. Your eyes rove across his broad shoulders, the expanse of his chest, you take in the shadows that appear between every sinewy muscle and think about how to convey it into your painting. You still haven’t dared to look further down. Looking down means that you’ll definitely be distracted. 

You sketch a couple of lines that vaguely resemble his shape. You’ve missed painting nudes and when you mentioned it to Joel, he was eager to accept without actually realizing he had to stay still for a generous amount of time. 

“You should’ve called,” he grumbles. “I would’ve come straight over.” 

“I know,” you sigh. “But it was late, and Tommy was there.” 

He doesn’t say anything but you can sense his displease. 

“He’s my friend, Joel,” you answer, observing the thick contour of his neck. “And your brother.” 

“I know that. I just don’t like the idea of not being there for you.” 

“Tell him then,” you say a bit harshly. He doesn’t seem affected by your shift in tone. Another line joins the others. “If it was anything serious I would’ve called, hell, I would’ve come to you but it wasn’t that serious. I was just in a. . . mood.” 

“Tommy sure don’t think so.” 

You don’t say anything and focus on drawing the rest of his torso, he clicks his tongue in frustration, “I hate when you do this, you know.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “Do what?” 

“Downgrade your problems. It’s okay if you’re still grievin’. It’s okay if there are some things you’re still workin’ out. I just don’t want you to think you’re alone, I can be your rock, sweetheart. I’d be happy to.” 

“You are my rock, Joel—and keep still.” He huffs and straightens again, your lips twitching into a smile. “I’ll try to open up more. Promise. I do feel really lucky I have you. And Sarah—and Tommy. Some nights I just wake up feeling bad. Yesterday was just a bit more intense.” Joel grunts in approval and you add. “Also hasn’t Tommy heard of the phrase ‘snitches get stitches’?” 

“He wasn’t snitchin’,” he pouts, you want to take his bottom lip between your fingers and kiss him. “I actually asked how he was doin’ but he quickly brushed it off and told me about you instead.” 

“Of course, he did.” 

He nods but still seems wound up like a toy. His head drops a bit, the click of your tongue reminding him to keep still. 

Your eyes trace the contours of Joel’s body. He’s an excellent specimen, everything about him so human, so raw. Every freckle, every crinkle you want to eternalize onto your canvas. He’s not looking at you anymore. Eyes glued to the legs of the easel. You still haven’t fully taken in the sight of him. Sometimes you’re truly afraid of how strongly you feel for him, how much you’d be willing to lay down just to be with him. 

Honestly, a pocket of time would be ideal. That way you could spend eternity in this peaceful moment, living in bliss. 

You place the pencil down and walk up to him. His gaze is drawn to your once more, “Sorry, sweet tea, did I move again?” 

“Maybe a bit,” you lie, standing an inch away from his naked body. You press your thumbs against his cheekbones then slide them down, feeling the roughness of hair tickling your skin. His eyes flutter shut momentarily, before opening again. 

You don’t say a word. Time is still around you and you believe if you try hard enough this can be your forever. You trace the outer lines of his lips, then trace the seam. His lips part, a bit of tongue showing in between—you touch that too, shallowly dipping one finger before moving on to his neck, “To draw is to feel,” you muster, the ball of your thumb grazing firmly over his Adam’s apple. “Will you let me feel you?” 

“‘Course,” he chokes out. “Whatever you need.” 

His words make your chest swell with affection. Joel’s words make you feel brave enough to allow your gaze to venture down. You press the flat of your palms over the swell of his stomach, something trembles within—life, you think, he’s so full of it. Your one hand dares to go lower, playing with the dark curls that lead to his soft cock. 

However, he doesn’t remain soft for long, it twitches and grows, the head gaining a reddish hue. 

Joel tilts his head, gradually leaning in to claim your lips with his own. He stops when your fingers bite into his bare hips, lodging into that delicate spot between bone and muscle, he swallows thickly, cock raising with attention. 

“Stay still,” you whisper. “And maybe I’ll reward you.” 

“Oh, we’re playing that game now?” he says with a crooked smile that makes your stomach twist delightfully. You only smile as your hand slides lower and lower, until you cup his semi-hard cock. His breath hitches. 

I love you like this, you want to say but remain silent. You stroke him slowly until he’s fully hard, the warm muscle throbbing in your palm, you press your lips against his neck, sucking on his skin until his hips jerk. 

“I’m not playing any games,” you mouth into his skin. “If you let me paint you, I’ll let you fuck my mouth. Does that sound like a fair deal?” 

Joel thrusts into your hand once more, groaning as you lick the vein that throbs under his skin, “I won’t lie, sweetheart, that might be hard if you keep your hand where it is.” He exhales a shaky breath, the warmth of it fanning your skin. “But sounds fair enough, I’ll try.” 

You press a quick kiss to the small patch within his beard and pull away before he can follow the heat of your lips. He’s as still as a statue when you get behind the canvas, but instead of resuming sketching the rough outline of his body, you grab two tubes of paint and a brush; though you have your doubts you’ll be using the tool, you’d much prefer to feel the heat of his skin softening the paint between your fingers. 

When you come back to him, confusion crosses his face. 

“I thought you were gonna be paintin’?” 

Your lips twitch into a sinister smile, “I am.” 

As cliche as it might sound, Joel has always reminded you of a deep, rich shade of red—the color of blood—but he also reminds you of an earthy purple, the type of shade that makes you want to bury your fingers in it as if you might actually feel the earth itself.  

You shake two tubes of paint in front of his eyes. He’s still confused, yet remains still. You pop the red paint open first, squeezing a generous amount over his shoulder. You watch it trickle down, drops of crimson staining his torso, the color so deep that it looks too real. Your heart jumping, you quickly smear it down his chest and all the way to his stomach. Just like you predicted, the brush is forgotten, slipping from your fingers and onto the carpeted floor. Joel shudders, his breath caught in his throat, you see him clench his jaw. 

“Darlin’. . .” he rasps, voice full of gravel, and your hand stops where it follows the V of his lower abdomen.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” he answers quickly, breathily. “Don’t ever stop touching me. Don’t ever stop looking at me like that—like I’m the most valuable thing you have. Like I’m worth a damn.” 

“You are.” 

Slowly, your fingertip traces an invisible path upward, leaving a trail of red paint in its wake. Joel shudders and gulps loudly. You draw meaningless shapes, circle where his tattoo is, and draw shapes of ancient alphabets you vaguely remember from when you read a book about the Late Bronze Age. Joel shudders, twitches, and tenses under your touch but never actually moves, keeping his stance. 

After the red pigment is nothing more but a fading shade of pink, you pour some purple paint into your palm and apply it directly. You press your hand directly above his heart, leaving your handprint over it before moving to his back, “Fuck,” he groans. 

Looking down, you notice him clenching his buttocks and slightly swaying forward, you smile, his cock must be dripping. You can’t wait to take him in your mouth, for him to use you however he pleases. You need him to be desperate when he takes you, sliding his length down your throat as he berates you for taunting him with sinful touches in the guise of making art. 

You press your hands together and smear the remnants of red with the purple, the fresh paint overwhelming the other. When both hands are fully coated, your cup both his ass cheeks, sliding your hands up, you kiss the taut skin between his shoulder blades. You leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses all the way to his neck and lick the sensitive spot behind his earlobe. 

“I’d wrap my hand around your cock but I’m afraid the paint isn’t edible so you wouldn’t be able to fuck my mouth,” you tease. “Tell me what you want to do to me, Joel?” 

He groans, “Keep this up and you’ll find out, sweetheart. I’m not a patient man, you should know.” 

“But isn’t the wait fun?” you challenge, your hands sliding up to his front, right above his pelvis. “The taste of sex on your tongue, the way your cock throbs with the thought of my warm cunt tight around it? Don’t you feel that tingle. . .” you gradually lower yourself, dragging your tongue down his spine, a choked out sound rips from his throat, “going down your spine, reminding you of how good it’s finally going to feel when you push down my throat, cutting my airflow and taking me however you want?” 

Joel breathes heavily, his stomach clenching with every whispered word, “Darlin’, please.” 

“Turn around.” 

You look up as he does, you gently take his hand and place it on your cheek, your heart dissolving into something thick and sweet like honey when his thumb strokes your skin. His gaze grows soft, the arousal in them dimming, splitting away like waves to show the emotion. 

“Your knees are gonna hurt,” he says, voice dropping. 

He’s right, they are going to hurt. “I don’t care.” 

You lower both hands to your lap, obediently parting your lips, sticking your tongue out. Joel wraps a hand around his cock and jerks himself until he’s fully hard, he holds you by the hair and drags you closer. 

“You want me to fuck that pretty mouth?” 

“Please,” you repeat his own plea from earlier. 

The heft of his cock on your tongue almost feels like a blessing from above. Your eyes flutter shut. Joel slides himself torturously slow, inch by inch, as he fills your mouth, your lips stretching wide to accommodate his width. He moves down your throat, awakening your gag reflex, you hold it down, choking around his cock. 

“Fuuuuuck, that feels good,” he groans, throwing his head back. With shallow thrusts, he works your throat open. Your one hand slides between your thighs as the other braces against Joel’s thick thigh. Right now, you’re relieved you’re wearing your favorite flannel pajama shorts instead of something uncomfortable like jeans. “That’s it, touch yourself, sweetheart. I want you to come while I’m fuckin’ your throat.” You whine filthily at his words, pressing your fingers between your clothed folds, you stroke your aching clit. Joel doesn’t stop running his mouth. “You must be soaked down there, poor thing.” 

Tears sting the corner of your eyes and you manage to slip your fingers down your shorts. His thrusts become rougher, sliding all the way out before fucking himself even deeper into your mouth, down your throat. You swallow helplessly around him and the groan that slips from between his lips forces the clench of your cunt, you breathe heavily through your nose and draw vicious circles around your clit. 

“Look at you—you like me fuckin’ your mouth, honey?” You nod, his lips curling in the most devastating way. “You gonna come while rubbing that pretty pussy of yours?” 

You nod again, this time accompanied by a moan. The reverberations of the sound trembles against his sensitive cock and he rocks into your mouth harder—this time tears do slip past your fluttering lashes. You can’t breathe, your vision is blurry, yet this is everything you’ve ever wanted. Your heart feels so full, so content. He fucks every thought out of your head, overwhelming your senses.  

“Shit, shit, shit—Don’t look like that, sweetheart, don’t cry, if you do I—I’ll—” Spit trickles down the corner of your lips, everything a wet, sopping mess. With every thrust, he manages to go down your throat, his mouth constantly muttering words you can barely hear. More tears flow freely down your cheeks, mixing with the saliva and precome going down your neck. His hips move in a constant stammering motion, balls heavy on your chin as he snaps shallowly into your throat without pulling back. 

You look up to him. Your eyes shining and glimmering, Joel meets your gaze, his eyes going wide, hips stilling—

He spills down your throat, hard. 

You swallow, swallow, and swallow, gulping everything that he gives. But it’s still not enough, there’s too much, some of it spilling from the sides from where his cock stretches your lips. Your body jerks, your fingers move slowly around your clit and you press harder, your feel the warm slick dripping down your fingers, making a mess of the rug underneath. 

“Sorry, sorry—” Joel mutters over and over again almost like a chant. His voice hoarse as his chest raises with quick shallow breaths. He then lets out a deep exhale, his cock throbbing in your mouth as he pulls out. “I wanted to last longer.” 

You kiss the tip of his spent cock, “Come here,” you mumble and he quickly drops down, you take his hand, pulling it between your legs. His eyes snap to yours, pupils eating away the color as he presses two fingers into your soaked cunt. Your eyes roll and your hips immediately grind down. “I came too. I came from you fucking my mouth, Joel. That’s how good it felt. You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Fuck, you’re really makin’ it hard to stay soft darlin’.” You smile as you cup his flaccid cock, feeling the weight of it in your palm, he hisses. “You’re gonna pay for teasin’ me, neighbor. ‘Should take you on my fuckin’ knee as punishment.” 

A fresh gush of wetness spreads around his fingers, “I think I would like that,” you say, kissing his neck. “But now I think I should actually finish sketching you for my painting.” 

“I don’t think I have much strength left in my legs,” he says with a chuckle. 

“Who said anything about standing?” you stand up, taking him with you. “I’m going to paint something else and for that, I want you on the bed.” 

You hadn't realized how much paint you managed to cover yourself in when you were pouring purple and red down Joel's shoulders.

He actually managed quite well when you asked him to lay on the bed instead of standing, and you’re fairly certain he dozed off for a moment or two. You didn’t mind. You loved how the painting had ended up, a sensual silhouette of a working man sleeping with sun cascading down his skin. 

“Surprise surprise, pourin’ paint on me got you dirty too,” Joel coos playfully, following you into the dimly lit bathroom. He stuffs your bedsheets into the washing machine, your eyes catch the smear of red and purple paint. “Want us to take a shower beautiful? We still have time until Sarah comes back from school.” 

“Someone’s cheerful now that they’ve taken their nap.” Joel holds you by the waist and pulls you close, unlike him, you’re still fully clothed—dirty, but clothed. His cock presses against the swell of your stomach. 

“I’m mighty tired of bein’ the only one bearin’ my naked ass,” he tugs off your shirt, the motion so quick that your protest dissolves on your tongue before it can materialize. “Also you owe me a nice back scrub with all those fancy soaps you have.” 

“I thought I paid my depth when you came down my throat.” 

“I don’t recall sayin’ exactly how much you owed me for this.” 

Your lips split into a grin. Without moving away, you bend over and slip out of your shorts, throwing them towards the washing machine. The flickering lustful specks in his eyes make your heart jump, they look like gold. Despite coming down your throat about forty minutes ago, he still wants you. He’s not tired of spending time with you, talking to you, humoring you in your endeavors— he’s not even mildly annoyed, which is something you thought everyone would feel eventually if they spent enough time with you. It was only a matter of when. 

You suddenly slap your palms softly against his cheeks, cradling his scruffy cheeks. His eyes rip away from your naked body to meet your gaze. You take in a slow breath. And out. Your heart rams painfully within your chest. Joel’s eyes widen slightly as he takes in your expression, observing you slowly as if he’s tasting what you’re feeling like aged wine. His fingers slither around your wrist and sliver down your forearms. 

“Darlin’?” 

“I love you, Joel.” 

His lips part, not with surprise, but with relief. You’re smiling giddily now, not a feeling of worry in your bones, just happiness, eagerness. You don’t care if it’s too early. Too late. It’s what you feel. And all you feel is love love love. 

“I love you too, Tea.” 

Joel brings your palm to his lips and kisses the curve of it slowly, he moves up to the middle, his mustache tickling you when he lays another kiss, “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

You close the distance, slanting your lips together, you drink him. His lips move to the beat of the moment, tickling down tenderly and smoothly like molasses. Joel’s tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open up for him. He tastes you quickly before pulling back. He exhales deeply, his breath fanning your swollen lips. 

“Let’s get cleaned up.” 

You grin, raising an eyebrow, “So you can get me dirty again?” 

“Somethin’ like that,” he huffs. 

Joel leads you to the tub, acting as if you’re his guest and not the other way around. He turns on the shower, allows the water to run down his fingers until the temperature is just right, and then carefully helps you step in. You moan happily at the way warm water moves down your skin, softening your body and chipping away at the paint. Joel stands right behind you. You want to turn around, clean him of the colorful mess, but he doesn’t budge. His hands touch your shoulders, then skims down. 

“You first,” he murmurs, fingers washing away the paint. You lean back. His hands follow a trail to your front, kneading your breasts. 

“I don’t have any paint there,” you hum. 

“My bad, these eyes aren’t what they used to be.” 

He gives them another squeeze before going lower and lower. . .  until he’s pushing his hand between your pressed tighs. You laugh, “I definitely don’t have any paint there.” 

His teeth suddenly sink into your shoulder. The blossoming pain makes you gasp and your body reacts by bending over, rolling your hips towards him. With a soft growl, Joel grips your hips and pushes you up against the glass panel. You moan with your breasts pressing firmly against the glass, the constant shower of water making you slip. 

Joel’s lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck you with my fingers,” he rasps. “Want you to come all around them, sweetheart.” 

Your body flushes from the inside out, “What if I can’t?” 

“You don’t have a choice,” he pushes forward, notching his cock between your folds, you whimper. “If you want me to fuck you with this cock, you better show me how desperate you are for it by makin’ a mess, honey.” 

When you don’t answer he grips your neck and forces your head back, he kisses your forehead, “Are you gonna be good for me?” 

Your stomach bottoms out, “Y—Yes, I’ll be good.” 

He kisses your forehead once more before releasing you. You fall forward with a whimper, bracing your hands against the slippery panels. Joel slides two fingers inside of you with embarrassing ease, “You like it when I’m rough,” he states, thrusting the digits in and out. You nod. “I love you,” he then says, catching you but surprise. You clench around his fingers and he chuckles darkly. “God, you’re gonna make me go insane—I love you—” 

You clench again, a loud moan dropping from your lips. The sounds you make are drowned by the water, yet he can hear you crystal clear. Your body reacts viscerally to his words, a flame that won’t ever go out burning wild in your gut—between your legs. He whispered the words into your skin, into your mouth, against your tongue. You push against his fingers, urging him to go deeper. He does. He holds you by the neck while fucking you with thick fingers, you cry out his name, whimpering those three little words that make him go inside just as much as it does to you. 

“Come for me,” he grunts. “Come for me so I can fuck you for real.” 

“J–Joel, fuck—” 

Your back arches, your orgasm rips from you, he takes it. It’s violent, earth shattering. 

Your jaw drops as he squeezes your throat lightly, the pressure adding to the intensity. You can vaguely hear him muttering ‘That’s it’ over and over, but you can barely hear the rasp of his voice. 

Joel kisses your cheek, drags his lips down your neck, “How’re you feelin’?” 

“Good. . . great actually.” 

Pulling out his fingers, he pushes them between your lips, you lap at them hungrily. While you’re busy devouring your own taste, Joel buries himself deep in your cunt. You whimper around his fingers, brows furrowing with pleasure. He pulls the digits out and grips your chin. His chest heaves as he pulls almost all the way out before snapping forward again, burying himself into the tight warmth of your pussy. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles, rocking back and forth. With every thrust, your lungs convulse. You desperately grip his forearm, but your fingers slip thanks to the water droplets that surround his skin, him letting out a sudden chuckle before pulling you towards his mouth. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t think I’m gonna last long now either. You make me feel like a teenager again.” 

Throwing your arm back, you tug the damp locks and force your lips together. You lick hungrily into his mouth. Joel moans loudly and you swallow every little sound he makes, your cunt fluttering and clamping around his length. He pounds into you sloppily, no coordination, no calculation—just need. 

To be wanted. To be devoured. What a wonderful feeling it was.  

Joel pulls out with a grunt, you hear the slick sounds of his fist as he jerks himself over the curve of your spine. You shudder when you feel it. Warm spend trickling down your skin, mixing with the water. He spreads your ass cheeks and pushes them together with his cock between them, he grinds once—twice, before heaving and dropping his head between your shoulder blades. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but you hear no regret behind the apology. It makes you glad. 

“Don’t be,” you turn and pick up the shower head, holding it right over his shoulders, you wipe the remaining paint away. Your stomach growls in protest, your lips twitch into a crooked smile. “God, all that worked an appetite. I’m starving.” 

“Want me to cook you somethin’?” 

Spraying the water over his other shoulder, you meet his gaze. He’s so sweet like this. His hair wet, curling at the ends. His body finally relaxed. You can’t help yourself and quickly press your lips into the corner of his jaw. 

“I have a watermelon in the fridge, you can cut that up for me.” 

“‘Course, darlin’. Anythin’ for you.” 

Crickets chirp loudly. The wind pleasant, yet a bit too warm for your liking. You fan yourself with a hand as you lean back into the chair. Despite just taking a shower, you’re nearly dry. Summer is definitely not a good season for you. 

“Should I be offended you look so miserable right now?” Joel asks, sitting next to you. He bites into one of the watermelon slices and when a drop of sweet nectar escapes, he makes quick work of licking himself clean. You swallow, your insides pulsing. 

“No,” you sigh. “I just don’t like the heat very much.” 

“Well. . that might be a problem considering summer is basically here.” 

You groan and throw your head back, “Don’t remind me.” 

“Here,” he says, extending you a slice. “Eat.” 

You take the slice without objection, biting into the fleshy fruit. The cold juice of the watermelon feels good as it goes down your throat. You look over to the lawn, thanks to the heat most things have dried out. 

“I helped him a lot you know,” Joel says, his voice soft, as if afraid to spook you. “With the garden that is. He talked a lot about you.” 

“Did he now?” you muse, you chew the watermelon thoughtfully. Your eyes are glued to one of the butterflies in search of a flower. “I miss him.” 

“I know you do, sweetheart. I know. I wish I could ease your paint, but truthfully I have no idea how to do that.” 

“You do enough,” smiling, you turn to him and find that he’s already looking at you. “The silver lining is that I met you.” 

He parts his lips, eyes glossed over with emotion but before he can, both of you hear small steps approaching at the same time. 

“Oh, watermelon,” Sarah chirps, throwing her backpack to the floor. “Don’t mind if I do.” 

She takes a slice and sits down, eyes flitting between you and Joel. You try not to look at Joel then, your heart beating a bit too loudly for your liking. Sarah raises an eyebrow and locks her eyes with Joel, their expressions are similar when they’re about to wreak havoc. 

“What?” Joel snaps, angrily sinking his teeth into his watermelon, finishing it off. Both you and Sarah laugh, your heart feeling a bit lighter now. 

“Oh, nothin’,” Sarah rolls her tongue, mimicking her dad. “What have you two been up to?” 

“Your dad was helping me with the kitchen sink,” you answer quickly. “It’s been leaking all morning.” 

“If my dad is good at anything, it’s fixing stuff.” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Joel grumbles. 

“How was school?” you ask. 

Sarah’s shoulders fall a bit, but she quickly shakes it off and smiles, “It was good, nothing interesting happened.” 

You raise an eyebrow but don’t pry. Joel doesn’t seem to notice Sarah’s mood change. “We should better head off,” he says.

“But I’m still eating,” Sarah whines. “Can’t we stay a bit longer?” 

“We don’t wanna overstay our welcome.” 

You almost laugh at such an absurd thing. Him, overstaying his welcome? Never. But you also understand why he does it. Sarah is smart and by the looks she was giving you and him, she’s probably already suspicious. 

“You guys should take half of it,” you say, standing up. “I’m only one person anyway. If I eat this much watermelon I’ll end up growing one inside of me.” 

Both of them look at you deadpanned, you laugh, “You both have no humor!” 

Sarah turns to Joel, “Dad, I think you might wanna check if her water is laced with something.” 

“I think you’re right, baby girl,” Joel nods seriously. “There’s no other reason she would find that funny.” 

“If you guys keep that up I’m not giving you squat.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” they say at the same time. 

You shake your head, snorting at the father and daughter duo. Both of them were ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. 

However, you can’t seem to stop smiling as you head inside to get them a container to put the slices into. 

[urpaperboy]

Desolation

A YV Fan Au created by me !! Mateo/urpaperboy !! :)

Hi !! So I made these doodles on the whiteboard that @itsargyle made and got going on here rn and well people were interested in me talking about it so here I am !!

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Welcome to Desolation, A Steampunk styled YV Fan AU !!

The Term Desolation means - a state of complete emptiness or destruction or anguished misery or loneliness.

This was fan product I created back in 2021 and have and continued growing along side a couple of my friends in the YV community, and while although I haven’t written anything about it, I know how both the story begins and ends. So let’s talk about that !!

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The Plot

Everyone has their beginnings, middles, and ends. Everyone's beginnings either start bright or tragic. In this story, we follow the life of Seth, one whose beginnings started both bright and tragic and ended bright and tragic too. Seth is the so called “proud inventor” of the town, ones who inventions are beloved by many people around him, including Alphonse, which Seth has grown to love and care for and hopes to have a future with. But when tragedy strikes amongst the two, it sends Seth down a path of Desolation. But to keep his beloveds memory alive, he invents what can only be his greatest creation and the possible escape from his grief. But with that, comes a price, that the two of them must face and pay with in Blood and Tears, and possibly Oil too.

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The Characters

Seth

- Seth in this AU of mine is the main protagonist of the story. He’s an inventor !! Again, the “proud inventor” of the town he lives in. He has made many things for everyone and even owns a small shop in the town where people can view what he is creating just by looking through a window. Although most see him as a bit of a weird person for focusing their life to the inventions, the entire town loves him !! He has made himself quite a popular one in the town. But of course, he faces his own struggles and grievances, especially now that he knows the man he fell in love with, is now gone. But with the creation of his biggest invention ever, he hopes that maybe his broken heart can be healed and made anew, but unfortunately not everyone gets that.

Alphonse/A.I.phonse

- Alphonse is technically a protagonist too but not in the way you expect. For the first few parts of the story he runs a small business of selling sugars and sweets, which is actually running very well. And (and this is completely obvious) he has a rather close relationship with Seth (hehe crush moment), but unfortunately, his story comes to an end. But when tragedy strikes, something new blooms.

Meet A.I.phonse, A Robot created in Seth’s image in the hopes to keep a small resemblance of Alphonse alive, sounds a bit psycho but I promise it’s not. Throughout the story, he is there to help Seth Process his Grief, and help him attempt to continue with His Life. He learns like a newborn child in the world, he learns about life and other things. But as he grows, the realization of existence begins to become his biggest question.

Finn/Jack

Finn and Jack are one of the closest friends Seth. They are the one who help him out whenever Alphonse can’t. Finn has his flower shop which Jack works in too. When Alphonse dies, The Two boys make it their goal to at least keep Seth happy, although it is rather difficult considering Alphonse literally dies in Seth’s Arms so it was a rather traumatic experience and definitely difficult to try and keep someone happy after that. But although the challenge is difficult, they keep trying, because who wants to see their friend sad?

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These are the other characters that are in the story but can’t really write much about at the moment

- Charlie

- Derek (he’s obviously a the antagonist)

- Jessie

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That’s currently what I can share so far !! I’ll post a character line up of all the characters when I fix them up and actually do it soooo yeah !!

If you have any questions for me about this AU, my inbox is open, I’d be happy to answer these questions !!

- Mateo ⭐️

[galaxostars]

If you had to choose your top five favourite marauders era characters and ships, what would they be?

This question was actually so hardddd haha and I feel like you could ask me again in a month and my answer would be different bc I’m such a multishipper that… yeah xD but for now here it issss :

Fave characters :

1. James Potter : mhm I love myself an arrogant goofball who’s actually smarter than people give him credit for, who’s got so much love he’s impulsive with it and hurts the ones he loves, who doesn’t know what to do with the loneliness that grips him sometimes, who defines himself by his ability to help people, who rarely allows himself to express himself negatively (ex : sadness/anger/frustration) because if there’s one thing that he fears the most, it’s hurting people. Plus, he hasn’t got any trauma or anything so why should he complain, yk?

Basically I love a good flawed James, and the sort of character where you wouldn’t expect him to have issues yk

2. Sirius Black : I mean… cmon do I even need to explain? ‘Cause if I start idk when I’ll stop, like literally. Ive had a crush on this character since I was eleven and never grew out of it, its almost embarrassing if it wasn’t completely justified (and the only reason he’s not number one is just because I write him less than James so I feel like I know him less intimately but like if you’d have asked me before I started writing I’d have put him number one for sure)

3. Regulus Black : !!!!! sorry but indoctrinated younger ‘abandoned’ (in between quotes bc he was not Sirius’ responsibility and Sirius was right to save himself but it’s also very normal for regulus to feel that way etc etc… we know the drill) sibling who’s faced with sudden delusion about this superior figure he’s followed/served, everything he’s lost in the process, and who redeems himself by going on this suicide mission that ends up being useless? (And unknown by Sirius AHHHH.) The guy is literally so smart and technically such a loser bc he doesn’t serve much for the plot and that’s what compelled me so much the first time I read hp 😭 he’s so tragic I love it

4. Narcissa Black : younger sibling; once again similar pattern to regulus but she survived, she’s so smart I’m, like, shaky in the knees, (esp i love female characters who do what they have to do to survive), she’s powerful too, and jkr is shit at writing female characters and I will never not be pissed abt it but I do think cissa was very compelling (+ Helen McCrory’s acting game was sooo perfect), very protective of her family and will stop at nothing to protect them, and that’s a value I respect so much. I will say, in general, any member of the black family is very compelling to me. Bellatrix would come right after narcissa in terms of fave from that family.

5. Barty Crouch Jr : listen if you know me, you know I’m… idk how to define myself actually, but I like unhinged stuff so. This is like. Peak unhingedness. Paired with intelligence bc we know canonically that man was smart af, and daddy issues? Dark hair, too? You just described my type. He’s even more compelling in tragic storylines (like past bartylus and barty joining Voldemort for regulus and then faced w the delusion and the grief? Gut wrenching) so yup.

Favorite pairings :

1. Moonshine (remus/james) : I know this sounds weird but a certain fanfic re wrote my brain chemistry and ever since then I’ve been obsessed. I just think they’re so tragically beautiful together. They’re both very selfless beings that just give and give and never prioritize themselves and together it’s a mess. They keep hurting each other because they’re so selfless, they’re not very good at reading each other and they let their insecurities get the best, they’re both frightened of how much they love, of the other not wanting them, of needing to « tame » their emotions. I love them.

2. Prongsfoot : FUCKING FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Together they’re. They. Just. I hate them bc of how much I love them if that makes sense. They’re everything. A law of the universe and whatnot. I love everyyyy fucking version of them. They make me cry they make me scream they make me smile they make me laugh, they’re literally my comfort ship.

3. Jegulus : they’re kind of the pairing that made me join the fandom, and though I don’t read them as much as I used to, they’ll always make me so soft. Enemies to lovers? Yeah, well I’m not immune yk. Best friend’s brother? Even better. Tragic and doomed? Yeah sign me the fuck up. I will say I like them just as much when it’s jegulily, but that’s also because I think poly relationships are so complex and compelling.

4. Moonwater : and not platonic haha, i have to say that basically i ship anyone who’s very smart imo with regulus, and Remus passes the test. Plus he’s also introverted, a book nerd, done with James and Sirius so i feel like they could bond very easily. I prefer them in a non canon sitting tho for some reason, but yeah I’m. So fond of them. They get into heated debates. Even their ship name is so dear to me because, that’s like both their biggest fears and pairing them in one name feels like they can overcome them if they’re together ? 😭 it’s so sweet (plus, it allows me to ship prongsfoot on the side lmfao)

5. Regulily : same reasoning as up there but like they’re probs the only het pairings that I really really love. i never expected them to be so important (but *cough cough* disintegration happened…) but honestly they make a lot of sense? I feel like Regulus would be more confident with Lily, and Lily would feel more calm with Regulus? They’re that scary hot powerful quiet couple yk. Anddd they can bond over siblings angst lmao.

[xerith-42]

Dante hesdcanons pls pls pls pls pls

I'll admit, I haven't given blue hair and pronouns enough love, so let's give it to him.

Dante was like 18 fresh out of the guard academy when Aph met him, compared to Garroth and Laurance who are in their mid to late twenties, and he was kind of just a little feral. Dante is just used to being a bewildering presence for people and he loves it. Like "Yes, I am basically a very tall child (5'7) and yes I will kick your ass." He likes confusing people, but he also really likes that Aph isn't thrown off by him. She treats him the way she would treat any guard she got roped into helping on a mission.

Dante's favorite color is magenta. Don't ask me why.

Dante carries on the honored tradition started by Gene of being a completely disastrous bisexual. Then again, with Garroth, Aph, and Laurance as his other role models, he really didn't stand a chance. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks about the possibility of just being with Nana and Nicole at the same time. He knows it's impossible, they've already pushed the situation past the point of no return because of his and Nicole's refusal to communicate, and he can't even begin to fathom how he'd explain it to the kids if Nana and Nicole even agreed to it.

Dante's favorite sweet that Nana makes is strawberry tarts. Strawberries are just his favorite fruits and Nana is always able to make something delicious with them.

This is basically canon but I want to turn up Dante's "I love my wife so god damn much!!" energy to 11. Like even if there's problems with Nicole, especially after they're resolved, he's so in love with Nana it's ridiculous. Y'know the way Maes Hughes is in Fullmetal Alchemist about his wife and kid? That's how Dante is.

And nobody can even really be mad at him because he's so earnest and loving and especially his mentors are so proud of him for really finding love and learning to cherish it. But there is more than a few times when Dante is gushing about his wife to Laurance while they're sparring and Laurance just groans and rolls his eyes. "Dante, I literally knew your wife before you did." "But you don't understand how she makes me feel Laurance! She's so brilliant, and beautiful--" "I've already heard you go on this rant before!"

There are some days where he's sort of distant. They became more and more frequent after Aph and everyone disappeared. Sometimes he would just go out to the gates of Phoenix Drop where he waited for them, or to that spot in the forest where they were last seen. He doesn't really say a lot, just stares at those spots, letting his brain feeling the crushing loneliness of missing almost everyone important to him. History has repeated itself. Due to forces that were honestly largely out of Dante's control, he's lost his entire family.

When Nana told him she was pregnant, Dante started crying. Tears of joy, relief, terror, grief, adoration, hopefulness. He just falls to his knees while holding her hand and cries. And Nana kneels down and comforts him. She knows what this means to him, how important and yet twisted Dante's relationship to having a family is. But neither one of them doubt that the other wants this. Dante wants this more than anything.

Oh my Irene he must have been a MESS after finding out about Dmitri. I know the show gave us some of this, but he probably hid a lot of it from Aph because she hasn't been around for so long, and he saw the kind of relationship bull shit she is still kind of getting up to, so he doesn't want to burden her with this. But when everyone's gone home for the night and it's just Nana and Dante in their bed together?

Needless to say a lot of tears were shed, apologies were stumbled through, and Dante ultimately resolves that he wants to be an even better father than he is to make up for not being there for Dmitri. And Nana assures him he's already a great father (because he is), but adores how dedicated her husband is to making up for his past mistakes in a very substantial way.

It takes a very long time for Dante to forgive Nicole. He still loves her, he never won't love her honestly, but he can't forgive her for hiding Dmitri from him. Even if they weren't together when he was born, he still would have done anything Nicole needed. Whether that was keeping Dmitri in his home for a few weeks, or just giving Nicole monthly payments, Dante would have taken what he could get. He's heartbroken that after all the time they spent together Nicole didn't realize that about him. Even if he'd "moved on".

I don't think Dante is capable of moving on. He's a character who constantly gets stuck in the past and shoulders the consequences of not only his own mistakes, but the mistakes of many others around him. Even when he tries to move forward, his past keeps coming back to bite him in the ass.

[rayshippouuchiha]

I just read build it high bury it deeper and..... i'm kind of speechless, like i.. am feeling so intensely, but it's like I can't grasp how to know which emotions i'm feeling or communicate them I'm. Verklempt? It's like, it's just a fanfic but at the same time I've been staring out the window just, feeling things, about Naruto being hugged by his kage bunshin or... being told by Tsunade that he did earn his chunin vest that I can't. I can't and when Kakashi takes one look at him and walks away with the others I practically heard the swing theme song from the anime and that's not like as a joke, it was like full nostalgia loneliness impact to the chest. Because it's so true to canon Kakashi's casual + aloof + 'yeah he did get made chunin' when sakura doubts him + traumatised but here even as Kakashi acts in character and is cool we see like the full weight of what that means for Naruto? And Naruto knows now that he was his dad's student and it's - and like this line at the start "That beyond Iruka-sensei’s crushing hug and Kakashi-sensei’s absent pat, someone would actually notice that he’d won against both of them." the absent pat it's just, it's such a small detail but it builds up to such characterisation and Naruto knows and it should be better that someone told him, better that he didn't have to find out from a seal of his parents that no one knew about after trying to suicide over Hinata. But it's also not?? He's just. so kind and in so much pain and it makes me want to sob for hours.

One of the underlying tragedies I'm trying to build in this AU is the fact that Naruto is both an unreliable narrator and also spot-on.

Because we, as the audience, know that Kakashi cares for him. We know that Kakashi turns away from a Naruto dressed in Kushina's clothes not out of disgust or indifference but out of pain and grief and trying to maintain his own sort of calm.

Naruto wants desperately to connect. And, unfortunately, the people around him are rapidly failing to meet him halfway in a way he understands or can even see.

Outside of Gaara who is his mirror, Iruka who has been the closest thing he's had to support for so long, and Tsunade who gave him the one thing he's always wanted, i.e. the truth, Naruto is achingly aware of the distance between himself and the people around him.

A part of the cruelty Naruto suffers every day is the fact that the people around him don't seem to realize how cruel they're being to him.

[sueske]

kind of related to my prev post of sns feeling safe around each other, and this is smth that I wanted to talk about for a while now but probs won't be anywhere near as coherent as I want it to BUT. these little children shinobi tools have been living in survival mode for YEARS. sasuke with the massacre of his clan, being alone, having his ambition be fuelled by hatred and grief and the loss of love. conversely, naruto has no love, is shunned, abused, verbally and physically implied, both of these boys are just trying to get through the next day of their lives, striving to reach their goals and bearing the weight of so much. 

and then they graduate from the academy and are thrust into the shinobi world and what that truly means, the danger of it all. I noticed in their beginning missions, and the chuunin exams, they were afraid. they said/thought it, they were shaking in fear, because yes! they were children afraid for their lives! and they never caught a break! then for sasuke it was orochimaru followed by itachi's return. for naruto it was orochimaru followed by sasuke's departure. always fighting. always violence. that's all they knew.

and yet, throughout this time, throughout all this fear and trauma, they made each other happy. they found moments of peace and quiet with the other. even in battle with their lives on the line, naruto and sasuke fought together, alongside the other, trusting each other. they felt safe with the other by their side. and outside of battle too. spending time with each other saved them from the crushing weight of loneliness that came bearing down at the end of the day in the form of quiet, empty rooms where once there was noise. or where there should've been noise to begin with but never was.

then they drastically change after the time skip after they get stronger and more experienced even in the face of terrifying situations. Sasuke is stoic, calm, cool, collected. Even when facing off against Orochimaru during the soul transfer which is terrifying! it just looks like it's another Tuesday for him. With Deidara, Sasuke can't even be bothered to look bothered. It was only when he thought Itachi was going to kill him did Sasuke look terrified again, making the scene that much more poignant because you could feel Sasuke's fear that he hadn't shown in ages. And then all that happened afterwards. Inside was a storm of emotions brewing, an anger and grief so strong that would crush most. 

With Naruto, alongside fearing that the Kyuubi will get out and he'll lose control, there's a crushing weight of responsibility that accumulates throughout Shippuden as he becomes everyone's hero through the Akatsuki arc and while also trying to save Sasuke although the world is against him. It's when he realises this that things come crushing down for Naruto. He's afraid people are going to kill Sasuke! He has a panic attack. Naruto's fear manifests itself into physical symptoms. naruto thinks about everything by himself, he doesn't let anyone in truly, either his true feelings or to help fight (except sasuke). and naruto can repress dark!naruto or whatever that was and take on the hero mantle but he can't repress what it is he feels for sasuke, the fear he has of losing him. 

naruto says himself both sasuke and him had to bear a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders, and he tells sasuke that they'll die together, yet naruto looks happy doing so, almost relieved, that they'll get rid of the burdens of being an uchiha and a jinchuuriki through death. they were both so so so traumatised by the hand fate dealt them that death looked like a release. at least they'll be together. even at the end sasuke was planning on putting an end to himself. their trauma cuts deep but the love and safety they found in each other ran deeper. and they reconciled, vowing to take on each other's wishes, pain, and live together instead.

[walkswithmyfather]

“Why Jesus Christ is the God of our painful Gethsemane” By Diana's Diaries:

“May I be willing, Lord, to bear Daily my cross for Thee; Even Thy cup of grief to share, Thou hast borne all for me. Lest I forget Gethsemane, Lead me to Calvary”

“This wonderful hymn penned down by Jennie E. Hussey has been my childhood favorite song. I am someone who tends to forget the Gethsemane that my Christ endured because I get caught up in my own heartaches.

Gethsemane literally means “the garden of oil press”, it was a place that was located on the Mount of Olives. Jesus often visited this place to PRAY with His disciples.

In olden times, the olive trees were beaten to have the olives fall to the ground. Then they were crushed in a stone basin until all the liquids came out and it became a red paste.

Our Christ was beaten and crushed by His own creation. The weight of our sins wore Him down, and He was crushed for our transgressions.

“But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, And by His scourging we are healed.” —Isaiah 53:5 (NASB)

“At the place called Gethsemane, Jesus wept and prayed ‘ O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from ME; Nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” —Matthew 26:39.

Let us remember that there was no conflict between the Persons of the Godhead, it is a revelation of Christ in His humanity.

My hands tremble as I write these words because I know I was the reason He was crushed and broken. Jesus foresaw how he was going to be crushed like the olives for the sake of his beloved creation.

“When he had finished praying, Jesus left with his disciples and crossed the Kidron Valley. On the other side there was a garden, and he and his disciples went into it. Now Judas, who betrayed him, knew the place, because Jesus had often met there with his disciples.” —John 18:1-2 (NIV)

Even his disciple, Judas knew the exact place where Jesus would be found.

—-Do we have a place of prayer where even the Devil fears to come nigh?

—-Have we strengthened and covered ourselves in prayer at the time of our trials and deep sorrows?

We have our painful gethsemanes in this world, the times when we feel crushed in our spirits by our very own, by the trials and wounds that never seem to go away.

Our gethsemanes are where we find zero strength to even pray because our heart is groaning deep, but Praise God, He prays for us.

It could be the temptation or an illness we go through as an individual, the brutal behavior of a family member, the betrayal of a friend, the emptiness and loneliness we experience in this world. The lack of empathy from those we thought were our near ones is so painful. Let me remind you, dear friend, Jesus who walked before you in HIS GETHSAMANE knows all about your gethsemanes.

Can you picture Christ wiping your tears in your season today? He is right there with you and I today.

Jesus Christ is the God over our gethsemanes because He experienced it Himself first. He is not the God who sat on the Heavenly throne and expected us to suffer on this Earth alone.”

[There is much more to this Web Article, including prayers. Please read the rest here.] Amen! 🙏🕊️🙌

[korrasamibottles]

hey hey!!😄 which of your WIPs are you most excited about?

Hello!! Thanks for asking, it's really nice to know people are interested💖 In true me fashion, I can't actually decide....so I'll talk about two!

1. Homophobic Naga. This is just a silly goofy brainless horny time to be honest. Basically Naga gets kicked out of the room so Korrasami can [redacted] and then afterward she starts acting weird. The only explanation is that she's secretly harboring less-than-friendly feelings toward the two of them....right? More Homophobic Naga lore can be found here!

2. Asami Angst. Asami is soooo fascinating to me because she's got so much going on beneath the surface and it barely gets addressed in canon. Based on how she interacts with everyone else, I think she's very used to pushing her own needs to the side for the sake of others, and I don't think she ever got a chance to properly mourn her mother because she was forced her to be her father's grief councilor. And then he tried to murder her. And then her friends disappeared from her life for three years. And then she had to watch her dad get crushed to death.

She has so much unaddressed trauma, she's endured so much loss and loneliness, she has more compassion than she knows what to do with, and she feels things very deeply while also being extremely repressed (which is part of why I think Korra–who expresses herself often, loudly, and without shame💖💖💖–is such a good match for her).

Long story short, my Asami Angst wip is an attempt to pick her brain and give her the space to unpack some of her shit while also coming to terms with her feelings for Korra. I can't tell you when it will be done (I love Asami and I want to do it right, so if that means letting things cook indefinitely....well) but I CAN tell you it will have a happy ending. Because they both deserve it.

[piracytheorist]

OUAT-style heart-ripping headcanons!

I swear this is gonna go into Spy x Family territory don't worry read on.

So until some years ago I was very, very into the TV show Once Upon a Time. It's a show that went off the rails so many times and so poorly, but it had this concept where you could remove other people's hearts (or your own) via magic. Doing so will not kill your victim (as long as magic is intact) and apparently won't have effects on their way of life, but by holding their heart in your hands you can either hurt them, control their actions, or kill them.

In rare cases, depending on circumstances and intentions, removing one's heart dulls their emotions. There was a case where a character removed her own heart (and kept it safe and protected in a box hidden away) to stop herself from feeling emotions so she could focus on her ambitions instead.

It may or may not be inspired by Kingdom Hearts, I haven't played those games so I don't know for sure but I have heard about it over the years of watching OUAT.

In any case, it was a very interesting storytelling device which unfortunately the writers didn't use as much as they should have imo, and one of the things that have stayed with me since I first watched the show up until now, more than ten years since.

And I was thinking... this would 100% be something someone like Twilight would do. You can pretty much keep the story as is, only have it so that magic users are very few and have enough weak spots that they decide to hide instead of using their powers to take over the world.

And in this scenario, WISE has a few such magic users, employing them for their deep, dark secret: all of its spies that work on the field have agreed to have their hearts removed, for three main reasons: First, so that their emotions won't get in the way of their work. Second, so that if they're captured by enemies, the enemies won't have a heart to control and force them to spill their secrets. And third, in case they're compromised and captured beyond salvation and have no ways of killing themselves, WISE would do it for them by crushing their hearts.

Fully prepared to lose all sense of self in the name of peace, Twilight agrees to have his heart removed and joins their ranks. For quite a long time, it's an actual relief to not feel the pain of his past, to forget his grief and despair and loneliness.

But what they didn't take into account for this is what motivated Twilight. He wants to create a world where children don't need to cry - that's a very empathetic motive, one that shows how sensitive he is to other people's feelings and how much hope and trust he has for the next generation, that he wants to create a peaceful environment for them to grow up in. And those were his thoughts when he stood in front of WISE's magician and allowed them to bury their hand into his chest and pull out his heart.

And so, against their knowledge and planning, a part of himself stays intact. For most of his missions, this doesn't prove to be an impediment or cause any issues. He never has to work with children, so his buried feelings about them don't resurface... until he's assigned Operation Strix and he has to adopt a child and get married.

Story proceeds as in canon. Anya sometimes hears Twilight's thoughts about how WISE spies are "heartless" but she doesn't take it literally. Heart-ripping isn't a technique known to the wide public, and only a few elite crime organizations employ magic users to rip out the hearts of enemies and hostages to abstract information.

So Anya doesn't realize Twilight literally means he's heartless, until Nightfall's visits the Forger household the first time. In Nightfall's case, her main thought while getting her heart ripped out was to prove her worth to Twilight so they could end up together, so her feelings for him have stayed intact, and she doesn't bother about telling WISE that their heart-ripping plan has flaws.

During that visit, Nightfall thinks about all that and Anya for the first time realizes what her papa has meant all along; he literally doesn't have his heart in his chest and is unable of feeling anything... and a few minutes later, she hears Nightfall's thoughts about how his smile has an inkling of true emotion hidden behind it.

That's enough to console her and believe that her papa is Special™ and can actually feel things.

Now, WISE does indeed have gaps in their knowledge about heart-ripping. Since it's established that magic users operate in the shadows, there's no actual evidence or research about how that whole thing works. They've just noticed how more robotic and cold people act without their hearts, and they've drawn the conclusion that it's an effective means of making their agents more professional as well as ensure they won't ever reveal any intel against their knowledge. Plus, all agents give free, full and informed consent for the procedure, so WISE doesn't care about the moral implications of the whole thing.

Twilight does the same... until the Realization of Feelings™ hits. He spends, of course, a lot of time denying it, and then he has a huge dilemma of whether he should tell WISE that despite their efforts, "heartless" people can still be influenced by their feelings. Yor, who'd heard before about the so-called "heartless" spies, finds out that her fake husband (whom she's in love with by that point) is one of them, and that makes things even worse and shatters her trust of him. At the same time, Twilight finds out about her, they fight, enemies attack, Yor is heavily wounded and Twilight for 2.07 seconds thinks "I should let her die"... but then he picks her up, brings her back home and nurses her to health. Yor trusts that at least he cares enough about Anya to not want her to lose her mother, so she agrees to a reluctant cohabiting for Anya's sake.

Anyway, full Identity Reveals ensue a little later, Twilight has the Shock™ of his life when he learns Anya knew everything all along... and after a mission blunder where WISE wants to remove him from the operation he tells Handler that the heart-ripping plan didn't work, and he doesn't want to be removed from the family until absolutely, life-threatening necessary.

Handler (who is also "heartless") reveals to him she knew he was growing feelings but didn't have the heart (heh) to do anything that could disrupt the happiness he'd been due all along. She agrees to pass on an excuse to her bosses so Operation Strix can be continued, and everything stays stable... until Twilight hits her with the question of whether he can have his heart back.

Now this worries her a LOT because a spy getting their heart back basically equates to a resignation letter, but Twilight wants to stay in the field. She refuses, saying it's either one or the other. Twilight is conflicted because he's realized he loves his family a TON but feels half of a person and wants to be whole for them. On the other hand, he doesn't want to resign and stop fighting for peace.

And well, I don't know where the story is going or how it's going to conclude (I don't read the manga either so please no spoilers about it), but I think he'd only be satisfied with a secure peace treaty between the two countries... but there would need to be Angst™ about him wanting his heart back to give his family the same amount of love and dedication they're giving to him.

That's all I got for now lol. Thought I'd share since I wrote it all up :D

[theanimeview]

[Reflection/Analysis] The Poe Clan: The Grief of Immortality

Source: The Poe Clan, Chapter 5

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting

At one point in time, I was obsessed with reading vampire novels. I couldn’t get enough of them, especially during my “Twilight phase.” Even now, I still enjoy vampire stories, but I prefer the philosophical ones that explore the nature of knowledge, reality, and existence. This preference may be why I’m drawn to Gothic literature but not to straight-out horror.

During the time I was reading all those vampire books, I discovered Moto Hagio’s The Poe Clan (1972-1976), a fascinating series of vignettes that reminded me of Anne Rice’s 1976 novel, Interview with the Vampire, despite their significant differences.

Interview with the Vampire, the first novel in The Vampire Chronicles series, tells the story of Louis de Pointe du Lac, a plantation owner in Louisiana who becomes a vampire after being turned by Lestat, another vampire. The two struggle for dominance over one another during their time together, and the novel explores themes of immortality, evil, and the meaning of humanity through this struggle, as well as the through the child vampire, Claudia, who struggles to live unchanged by time.

Despite their differences, both Interview with the Vampire and The Poe Clan share significant parallels, particularly in their characters’ internal struggles. Both works feature vampires being turned, but at very different stages of life. Lestat, an adult, turns Louis as an adult, while Edgar and his sister Marybelle are initiated into the Poe clan of vampires at a young age, forever doomed to live out eternity on the brink of adulthood.

Where Rice’s work explores immortality and its subsequent loss of humanity as being evil, creating deep conflict between mortality and immortality, Hagio’s explores immortality and its subsequent loss as one of profound grieving over being left behind by the mortal world. The Poe Clan also delves into the complex relationships between vampires and their isolation from humanity, in contrast to Interview‘s questionable coexistence, as a result of no longer being bound by time in the same way as their mortal counterparts.

Edgar feels guilt and mourns the loss of Marybelle’s and his own humanity, much like Louis feels immense guilt at Claudia’s death and turning. Edgar and Louis are figures of sorrow, abandoned by time and grieving its passing while remaining unchanged. Edgar is especially pained as he recognizes that he will forever be a child but forever growing on the inside too after having been turned as a teen, similar to Claudia.

Source: The Poe Clan, Chapter 5

For a short while, Allan and Edgar coexist in a peaceful way, but Allan is constantly reminded of Marybelle, grieving for her as his first crush, while Edgar is grieving too over her loss, his only sister and reason for being. Both characters mourn for Marybell in different ways; both characters are marked by loneliness and sorrow, seeking companionship desperately. After an incident that ends up killing a young couple, they take in the couple’s young girl named Lidelu and raise her for several years, but they never turn her. Edgar does not want to add more to the clan, and moreso than Allan, he recognizes the value of her mortality causing him to further grieve the fact that he will never experience the full range of human life like growing old and having a family.

In the end, The Poe Clan is a compelling exploration of the human condition and the search for meaning in a world where humanity marches relentlessly forward toward the future through the eyes of the immortal, adolescent vampires that were unwillingly left behind to watch, forever suspended in time. The dynamics between the vampires in The Poe Clan remind me so much of other vampire stories, particularly in the bond between Edgar and his sister Marybelle and later Allan. They are marked by grief and loneliness but take a unique approach in examining companionship during grief as both an accompaniment and issolating factor.

Truly, The Poe Clan a spectacular story to reflect upon and one I highly recommend reading if you have not done so already. (Oh, and on a final note: Despite its characters’ names being derived from Edgar Allan Poe and the setting of the Poe clan, there isn’t a direct tie storywise to the author and Hagio’s work.)

—

Written by Peggy Sue Wood and Editing using ChatGPT

[gottfrieds]

are any of y'all ever consumed by the thought of the slowly crushing loneliness Aglovale experienced once Percival left for Feendrache or is it just me

the slow whittling down of his family members. Herzeloyde first. then Lamorak left, and while they have clearly always held the only sense of rivalry between the brothers, it was never absent of care. and his absence was surely felt, but at least he was alive. presumably kept in contact (since Aglovale says it's "of late" that Lam has been impossible to reach). and Percival was still there. sweet, precious baby Percival, who needed his guidance and company and whose ongoing presence was some sense of normalcy.

and then he grew up. and left. he left, and then it was just him. and Gahmuret. the man who, even before mad with grief and playing with dark magics, told his eldest child that a single piano session with his mother was a waste of time. you cannot tell me that the King of Light warmed that castle enough for him alone. not when it was just his heir left. not a man who considered a simple experience with art too frivolous for a future king. not a man who likely spent more time with his research than together.

that castle may as well have been empty.

and then it was.

the last part of your family that was with you whittled away. Percival didn't return when his study abroad was done, after all, had to go find himself after the incident over there. Lamorak didn't really return either, and he's been harder to reach. loss after loss after loss. but Gahmuret's death at least brought Percival back, family coming together again to mourn. maybe this will lead him to stay again. to remain at home. it is so empty alone, with the memories of everyone and-

Percival leaves again after the funeral.

Alone.

Again.

Completely.

and this time, with the weight of the entire kingdom (and his father's deathbed pleas) fully on his shoulders.

between that and the circumstances of Herzeloyde’s death...it's honestly no wonder he is the way he is when we met him.

and hey, get this!! Percival finally comes back! he comes back and do you know what he does when he finally shows his face in front of his only living kin he knows the location of at any given time? he has a single meal and he GOES TO LEAVE AGAIN! FOR FEENDRACHE! AGAIN!!! like we know Percival hasn't been back home since the funeral which we know was MULITIPLE YEARS AGO. man with severe trauma left in museum to everyone close to him he's lost in some way or another that's been slowly unraveling from grief and isolation

were there other people around, others he interacted with daily? sure! but this is the man who firmly believed the only people he could trust anymore were his brothers. only ones he could relax his guard around (people are weak and evil things, you know). and they're gone.

like it's so much to think about. at once I think "no wonder this man is insane" and also "it's a wonder he isn't more bonkers than he was"

did they mean to write you this tragically??? this compelling??? you’re too interesting to contemplate!!!!!

[hextechmaturgy]

7 and 8 :-)

7. Weapon of choice?

Hmmm depends on the game I guess........ I avoid P2 combat as much as I can. Never helped Stakh with those worms, didn't even bother to defend my dad's house from robbers LMAO they can keep that shit. I just find combat to be a huge waste of time, and I'm not good at video games so the chances of me dying during it are high, and dying in P2 sucks. This is another reason why I prefer P1! The combat is just as wonky but it's not taking itself too seriously. Most of the guns in the game are fun, I'm a big fan of the shotgun , but I think my weapon of choice is a knife. 🔪 Can easily find new ones if you keep killing muggers, and trying to melee in this game is just glorious. You can practice being good with a knife for hours and you still won't be any good with it, and that's fine because this is all make believe <333 I also get a kick out of stabbing people thinking of it as a character choice. Doctors using a cutting tool to kill instead of healing etc etc, this shit writes itself.

8. Best side character? (You can only choose 1!!!!)

Who could've seen this one coming, she's about to say Bad Grief!! P1 and P2 Grief are two miserable little rat men that won't leave my house for very different reasons. It's my understanding that P2 Grief never really had much to his name, besides his friends. Probably grew up poor in the streets, mischievous to a fault but always good deep down. He wanted to not be miserable all his life, and in his universe this goal demands some selfishness. He gains notoriety in the streets, gains people's respect at last and some modicum of financial stability, but in so doing he loses all his friends, who now see him as one of the bad guys. And you can't blame them for thinking that, he's literally hanging out in shady warehouses selling knives, but we know he never partakes, he even warns his men not to kill and possibly requests Andrey's help to put the ones who disobey in line. Is it worth "being someone" if the price you pay is crushing loneliness? <- Grief arguing with his own reflection. And then P1 Grief is a whole other can of worms, he's SO fucking funny for a start, everything he says needs to go into a quote book. He's the opposite of his P2 counterpart, playing the part of the innocent fool just trying to get by, when he's actually the mastermind of the underworld. That is already a really fun character concept, but then you get to the Changeling route and a whole new side of this character is revealed. You sit there going, huh. You've known you were a toy this whole time too? P1 Grief is much older, he's been around the violence and the misery and hopelessness of this game he can never escape from, playing the role of the big bad wolf. I reckon he figured: hey, if I'm doomed to be a bad guy all my life, I might as well be best bad guy I can. Let it be fun for me too. Doesn't mean he doesn't want to change, he's absolutely devastated that even Clara may not forgive him, and if the holy girl can't do it, he's doomed doomed. I've mentioned before that P2 Grief could grow into P1 Grief in a way, after what Aglaya puts him through. Nothing matters, so why should I care that cutting is wrong; the blood on my hands isn't real. EVERYONE needs to play the changeling route !!!!!!

[felikatze]

Another thing is that Tiki (mostly the younger version) assumes she would be less lonely if she gets married to another person and has one-sided crush on Marth.

So both Marth and Chrom accidentally gave loneliness to both Tiki and Robin. Oh... to be a blue-haired protagonist with a dragon's unrequited love.

yeahhhhh.... from the sidequest it's very obvious that the younger tiki doesn't understand what "marriage" really is. she just thinks it means you get to stay with someone you love forever, so of course she picks marth. she doesn't even know what a wife is, dude.

it's like she managed to pick up on the heteronormative ideal that romance will "complete" you. she's afraid of being alone because she already knows she's going to outlive all of her friends. the older tiki indulges her because she remembers being that young and afraid, but she has already moved on from her grief. the older tiki never gets a real romance, but it's fine for her. she's not lonely. Even if marth & co are dead in her time, she's made new friends, and the memories of her old ones can still keep her company.

it's also obvious that marth only indulges her in that older brother playing pretend sort of way. at first he doesn't want to do this cuz, yknow, he's a married man, but agrees when the older tiki explains it'll just give the younger tiki a happy memory. in that way he also figures out that the young tiki doesn't "get it", she just figures it'll make her happy.

it doesn't even matter whether her feelings for marth are romantic or not. It's just a puppy crush that kids have. none of them would actually ever marry her.

In how the sidequest handles it, i don't actually mind young tiki being on the bridal banner. it's just playing dress up, and everyone knows that.

i guess the difference here is how tiki ajd grima cope with the whole thing. tiki could've obviously never ended up with marth for many many reasons, and the older tiki knows that. she's lived for so long now that people come and go, none of them staying in her life forever. she will hold onto their memory and look to the future in their name. i saw this comic where older tiki reassures younger tiki she'll be loved through the ages no matter what... it's really sweet. even if it's not romantic, tiki doesn't need it. she's still loved.

grima on the other hand. well first of the circumstances are different in that marth probably died of old age so tiki had a lot of time to grow out of her puppy crush and face the inevitability of death. grima murdered chrom with their own hands cuz of validar and immediatly caused the apocalypse over it.

like. when he dies robin just Snaps. everybody die now. the attachment is different cuz the two are mentally the same age and can conceivably end up together. regardless of maritial status, the two are best friends and incredibly close. additionally since none of the shepherds were present at the scene, none of them would know he didn't intend to kill chrom, so they'd just see "robin has betrayed us and is grima now" and cut ties, so now robin has no other friends either.

the parallel is very funny though. dragons just love this bloodline, huh. especially funny since a main theory is that grima was created from the blood of earth dragons. medeus' weird homunculus nephew also wants some of his killer's descendants.

it's also triple funny that i talk about tiki not understanding what marriage is here because grima not knowing what marriage is is a plotline in the next part of out of the labyrinth that i'm writing rn. it's just one of those fics where the most stupid thing possible will always happen, and it's very very funny to me.

this reply got once again very long. thank you for the ask!

[rattling-the-teacups]

Everything for me stopped in May of last year. My world crashed down on top of me. I have collapsed under the weight of grief and trauma and do not recognize many aspects to myself. The memory of those eleven terrible days lives in my mind, vivid and horrible, even now. Ten months later, people tell me that I'm doing better, that they're glad that I'm working and "taking care" of myself, that it's time that I get back into school, that I should be grateful for what I have, that I'm a mean bitch when I decide to open up and say that I'm not actually doing well, that most of the time the best I can muster is "ok". I remember a time when Tyler was ok at best, and inconsolable at worst. Nobody died to make him that way, he just was. I wanted to be better for him, I wanted to be more supportive of him, I wanted to take care of him. He wanted to take care of me. I'm used to the crushing weight of loneliness and grief now. I can't even remember what it felt like to be happy by his side, because every time I think about it I am consumed with grief. My body still craves his presence, regardless if I can consciously remember the feeling of calm and peace I felt when I was around him. With every day I get further away from him. I can picture us in bed naked, no space between us, his arms wrapped around me, but I can't feel his warmth anymore in my head. As time goes on, these things will fade even more, until eventually I can't even picture his arms around me anymore. I think on that day I will die and be freed from my torment, or at least I hope so.