#he is terrified of really being as bad a person as he suspects he is

[thetarttfuldickhead]

roy + fear

Roy might not originally have intended to use fear and intimidation to get his way, but there’s no denying that he does do that now, when he feels the situations calls for it. He would probably not admit to it if confronted with the fact (well, not until after a while in theraphy with Dr. Sharon at least) but he is very aware of how scary he can be, and will – when it suits him – wield the fear he instills as a tool to achieve his ends. He’s not going to waste time trying to talk some idiot into seeing sense; he’ll threaten to smash his teeth out if he doesn’t stop being a dickhead. Or he’ll just stare and grunt and trust that his reputation precedes him. When confronted with people*, such as Jamie and Ted, who will not be intimidated by him even when he tries to be scary, Roy flunders, because he’s quite used to this strategy working very nicely to him and has not bothered to develop too many other means of persuasion. (And he also hates himself for that, because this is Roy, and hoo boy is this man a mess.) He is getting better at it, though!

*People outside of his family. He would never try to intimidate his sister or Phoebe; he can be as gruff with them as he is with anyone else, but trusts that they’ll always know the real feelings behind his thousand fucks and what-not.

[just-some-trans-nobody]

Male Yautja trying out a period cramp simulator with his ooman mate

Reader is AFAB but only gender neutral prounons are used. In this reader is someone who currently suffers horrible cramps or has in the past.

Warnings: cursing, period pain simulated

Minors Don't Interact!

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The both of you had gone into market to stock up on somethings your mate couldn't go out and hunt like cleaning supplies and a new pan seeing as you mate had accidentally broken the last one, though you suspected he had been playing with it and was embarrassed that he had broken it... again.

Looking around you smiled seeing a booth selling little knick knacks and trinkets. Nothing really caught your eyes until you noticed a small crowd all watching someone in a chair seemingly in pain as they all looked on in amusement. Raising your brow you watched confused on what wad going on and why they found it so entertaining to watch. Your mate seemed interested too as he started walking over wanting to know what was going on too. With quick steps you struggled to keep up with his long strides, damn him for being so tall.

Approaching the crowd it didn't take you long to find out what was going on. It was a period cramp simulator that the public could try out. People of course were using it to show off how much pain they could endure. It made you chuckle that this was being made into a test of strength because of course. The guy in the chair tapped out quickly after getting to the eighth setting. A few people layed at him and patted his shoulder, you assumed they were friends of his. The person running the simulator, a mass of squirming tentacles looked to you and trilled at the sight of a human. "Come come! Try it out show how a quoman deals which such crippling pain!" They squealed gesturing for you to come up to the chairs thst were set up. This got the crowds attention, they wanted to see how well a human could handle it.

This attention on you from the crowd caused your mate to let out a possessive growl as he put a arm in front of you. He didn't like strangers looking at his mate and he definitely didn't want someone causing his mate pain. "No no it's fine love." You said putting your hand on his outstretched arm. "Let's try it together." You suggested giving him a warm smile, if the two of you hadn't been in public that smile would have made him purr. He had mixed feelings he wanted to show off to his mate but he didn't want his mate in pain. The cheering crowd had little to no effect on him, he didn't care about them, only you. "I can handle it love and if I can't I will just tap out. It's ok." You reassured going on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. He almost slipped up and let out a purr feeling your kiss. Oh how he adored your kisses, he couldn't say no to them. Slowly he nodded his head and walked up to the chairs with you.

His chair groaned at the weight of his body when he sat down. Yours didn't make a single sound. He didn't hide his distan seeing the tentacled alien put the pads onto your stomach, he hated seeing someone touch his mate. You didn't mind but you weren't a fan of how cold they were. Next was your mates turn to get the sticky pads put on his stomach. This was terrifying for the slimy alien to do, they rushed the job wanting to make a little distace from the glaring yautja. Once everything was set up they moved away and gave the both of you a warning before turning the dial to the first setting.

Neither of you had much of a reaction from it. Your mate hardly even felt it and you shown no response to it. You only looked to your mate with a smile before looking back to the operator nodding when the asked if you were reay for the next level.

Still not much of a response from the two of you. It felt like a walk in the park to you. "Heh wish my cramps were this light." You joked laughing softly. You mate raised a brow hearing that. He was curious to know just how bad your cramps were, they couldn't be that bad right?

The third setting he finally started feeling somthing but it was well bellow his pain level. Looking to you he noted that you were still smiling happyily feeling rather giddy at this experience. The crowd were a little horrified and absolutely amazed to see you smiling durning this. Usally people weren't this happy to be in pain.

Fourth setting made your mate a little uncomfortable. Just enough for him to shift lightly in his seat. Still you were just smiling giggling softly seeing your mate shifting. "You ok love? You can tap out if you need." You teased boiling his blood. This was a challenge now, he wanted no he needed to get to a higher seating than you.

His stomach tensed at the fith setting. It was a pain he could handle but if he had to deal with it for a week every couple of weaks it would have ade him pretty grumpy he knew that for sure. Glancing to you he was surprised to see you just sitting there lazily as you smiled as of it was nothing. "I couldn't get past that setting. How do humans do it?" Someone from the crowd whispered to another. You didn't hear it but your mate sure did.

Six? Oh boy ow. Still your mate wasn't backing down nd neither was you. His manbles flared into a smirk seeing you wince for a momemt. He hoped you were about to tap out when you opened your mouth but was taken back hearing you laugh. "This feels like one of my lighter days." You said with an amused tone gaining a few shocked gasped from the crowd.

You finally shifted at seven before getting comfortable again after adjusting. "Still not as bad as it get's." You said taking it in stride. The person who had gone before you was in absolutely shock and horror that not only did a human beat him but did it like a champ. Your mate was irritated he still hadn't bested you but was honestly admiring how well you handling the pain. He was gripping the arm rest so hard it splintered in his hand.

He nearly tapped out at eight holy fuck it hurt so bad. Looking to you his eyes bulged seeing that you were only lightly resting your hand on your stomach. "You ok honey?" You asked letting out a shaky breath. Fuck, he was so attracted to you. Look at you hardly reacting to the pain he was struggling with. His little ooman was so strong and he some how was falling even more in love with you than he was before.

Once at nine he was hunched over holding his stomach tight. "D-do you want to tap out?" The operator asked him gaining a loud growl in return. His dreads surrounded his head like a current. He tried glancing to you but he didn't have the strength to pull his arms away to move them out of his sight. You were simply holding your stomach with a frown as you slowly breathed in and out. The crowd murmuring to each other watching in quiet shock and amazement.

He couldn't, he couldn't anymore he had to tap out at ten he couldn't it was too much. Letting out a pained roar he ripped the pads off his stomach and looked to you. Just sitting there focused on your breathing with knitted brows and a frown. "To much for you?" You asked clenching a arm on your stomach as you gripped the arm rest. The crowd cheered astonished that you made it to ten. Quickly the operator turned it off and took the pads off you.

"It must be broken no way a ooman could do that!" Shrieked the male who had gone before you stomped up to the front of the crowd gaining a growl from the very grumpy and possesive mate of yours. "Let me try the one the ooman used!" He demanded. Shrugging the operator put the pad on him and turned it on. "No to the ten! If the ooman can do it so can I!" He stomped his foot acting like a toddler throwing a fit. "You asked for it." The operator warned before setting it to the tenth setting. Immediately he was on the ground walling as loud as his lungs would let him. This caused the crowd to roar with laughter as the operator quickly turn it off. Stand up the male waddled away holding his stomach greatly embarrassed by the scene he had caused.

Your mate was absolutely delighted by this. His mate was so strong. Moving closer to you he wrapped his arms around your waist whispering praises to you. He bought you so many gifts before the two of you finally went home. The whole time he was praising you on your strength. Definitely looks at you in a new light. Who knew you delt with that much pain so often. He understands so much better now why you snap so much or were unable to walk some days. More worried about you now any time you have cramps, he's gone through the pain and now he knows how you feel, he feels so bad you had to keep doing dealing with it unable to just turn it off. Any time you had cramps he was cooing and pampering you as much as you let him.

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Part Six

Words: 5.8k

Just as you approach something resembling contentment, this broken world will exact its toll.

Warnings: smutty smut, trauma, grief, Joel hasn't come to terms with what happened in Salt Lake, Joel is bad at feelings, but pretty good with his hands. Minors DNI.

Part Five | Series Masterlist | Part Seven

You were busy again, the new table earning its keep almost immediately, and the ease that you moved around your treatment room, the way that you could bend without reaching over, push with your weight rather than your wrists, meant that you could concentrate more, heal more effectively. You hadn’t realised how much the clumsiness of the old dining table had been holding you back. Every day that you used it, you wanted to find a new way to thank Joel. Maybe even sometimes, with all of your clothes on.

Except that the idea also terrified you, in a way that you were struggling to really understand. The idea of him, of being naked with him, not that you really fully had been, of kissing him even, no that you had, was enough to send an absolute riot of butterflies careening through your guts and down into your legs, into your knees. The idea of him scared you, his reputation proceeded him, and you kept thinking of how wary Maria was, how protective Ellie seemed to be, how sweetly oblivious Tommy was most of the time which you were beginning to suspect was actually a choice. You wanted to pull them all into a room and forensically map out who the fuck Joel Miller actually was. You were aware you were thinking like a crazy person. You didn’t care.

Because then when he was with you, when you fell into his orbit, looked into his eyes, there was something heavier and realer and more tangible than your stupid, flighty, squawking fears. It worried you, that he made you into a different person when he was around you. You weren’t sure what that person was capable of getting up to, left to her own devices, but you had an inkling.

You knew that you were pushing him away, pushing it all away, because it scared you, but also it felt like the only sane thing to do, had kept you alive for years and years, had meant that when you lost people it hurt less, maybe. Being busy again, and fairly invested in maintaining your denial for as long as you could manage it, you got back to your usual routine of seeing the broken and weary people of Jackson early, before the work hours, and then steadily throughout the day. It afforded you the illusion of being sociable, of contributing to the community, without having to actually be in it. Without Ray and Marla, with Maria and Tommy wrapped up in the baby, with Joel being…Joel, you had collected a long list of clients and a dwindling list of friends. It could have made you sad if you thought about it, so you didn’t, and you were too busy anyway, and how could you be lonely with all these people in your house?

Besides which, in the quiet moments you could feel the tension in people, the uneasiness woven tight into the musculature of most of the residents you now saw. Not everyone knew Marla or Jacob or the others personally, not everyone even necessarily liked them, especially not fucking Jacob, but everyone had an investment in their safe and hopefully bountiful return.

To escape it, you went for long walks along the foreshore of Jackon’s lake at the bottom of the township, until the dying light forced you back. You were there, hands in the freezing water feeling out for flat stones you could warm in hot water and press into particularly assertive muscle knots, when you heard the yelling. You were up and sprinting, the twisty and icy path underneath you occasionally threatening to boot you into the snow, and if you’d had time to think about it you have marvelled at the difference in your reaction from Joel and Ellie’s homecoming to this one. The elation you felt at their return, the relief of it, not just for you and Marla and Ray, but for Jackon. For what it meant for this community. For your community.

Trying not to knock yourself out on the way to the gate meant that you didn’t initially notice the quiet. There was a smattering of people still out despite the cold, the encroaching darkness, but they weren’t rushing forward, weren’t really helping the returned residents, were in fact milling around, some just standing in quiet observance, and it occurred to you for a second that they were like onlookers at a funeral. You pushed forward into the crowd, trying to see past unmoving shoulders, past still bodies, moving towards the sounds of horses, of panting breaths you weren’t sure belonged to whom.

And then you arrived at the front, and you had a clear view. And you realised the panting breaths were your own.

There were only two horses, and only three riders. Marla at the reigns of one, Jacob slung over the back of her saddle, slumping over at an odd angle, his head rolled back in a way that you thought would really strain his cervical spine, until you realised he was tied to the horse, had been roped around Marla’s midsection, that he was nearly as pale as the snow around you, that he was very dead. The other rider stared, unblinking, into the distance and was eventually helped down and led to the infirmary, not ever having said a word.

Marla had seen you, had watched you fight your way to the front of the crowd, had searched you out. She was shivering, a splatter of blood across her chest and under her neck, and you couldn’t tell if it was hers or if it was Jacob’s or someone else’s entirely, and in that moment staring into her eyes you knew that it didn’t matter, that it would never matter, that whatever damage it was it had already been calculated, tallied, on a ledger somewhere none of you would ever be able to balance.

You motioned to a few of the men around you, gesturing to the ropes around Marla’s middle. ‘Cut him loose,’ you said, in a voice you didn’t recognise, and reached your arms up to hold Marla’s hand. You held it, limp and contrite in yours, while Jacob’s body was freed from hers. When he was lifted away she slumped forward, her back having held his weight for god knows how long, and you caught her, pulled her down from the horse on wobbling legs, let her crumple underneath you and set her down onto the pavement. Someone pulled a blanket over her shoulders and you held her in it, gripped her hard and tight and let her shake in your arms. You looked up into the eyes of Ray, who looked like he might throw up or pass out or both, and you pulled him down with you, wrapped him around her while he cried into her hairline, and you watched as the horses were led away.

‘Did you bring anything?’ someone asked from the crowd, quiet but hopeful, and you wanted to reach up and slap them for every moronic word they had dared speak into existence, had thought to utter in this sacred space of abject loss.

Marla never answered, and you squeezed her. She twisted in your arms to look up at you, an angry purple and yellow bruise forming having formed under her eye. You turned to Ray. ‘Help me get her to mine,’ you said.

--

You had the fire going, and you pushed your old armchair right up to it, folding Marla into it under a sea of blankets. Ray went to get something to bring her from the mess hall, something warming but easy to chew, and you perched beside her, slid down until her knees were in your lap and she was resting her head against the wing of the chair, and you stared, together, into the fire.

‘We barely made it back,’ she whispered, her voice dry, her lips chapped and windburned. You stayed still, not wanting to shake her, not wanting to do anything that might stop her from talking. ‘Rode through, all night. I wanted to bring him back, bring them all but I could only get him.’

‘Was it raiders?’ you asked, and she shook her head.

‘Both,’ she said, and you didn’t understand. ‘Raiders that had…kept a few clickers, had them locked up, had them uhhh…weaponised.’

You shuddered. ‘Like pets?’ you asked.

‘Like torture devices,’ she simply replied. You contemplated this for a second, couldn’t imagine it, the terror of being faced with that choice: raider or runner.

‘We got within a few hours of where we thought the pharmacy was,’ she went on, her voice catching. She continued to shake, her hands tremoring underneath the blanket, and you tried to tuck her in tighter, tried to warm her up. ‘We’d gone through a valley, ended up on the other side of a glade, it would have been so beautiful in the before times. We found a farmhouse, looked abandoned. Wasn’t.’

She was jiggling her foot and you put your hand out to hold it, feeling that her socks were wet. ‘By the time we realised they were already on us, were ready, had seen us coming.’

She looked at you, tears forming in her eyes. ‘They tried to lock us in the cage with them,’ she swallowed. ‘Jacob was really brave, fought them hard, stopped them from putting us in.’

If cold had gotten into her boots she must have been freezing, was risking losing a toe. You lifted the blankets to pull at her sock, putting your hand on her bare skin to warm it.

‘But one of them, two of them maybe, they got out,’ she continued. You held the ball of her foot in your hand, rubbing your thumb over the top of her foot in what you hoped were comforting little circles.

‘I just wanted to get him back here,’ she said, just as you felt it, a raised, rough ridge on her ankle, tendrils of heat snaking up her shin. You threw the blankets back, saw the bite there, the way the ropes of twisting fungus had already started their march up to her heart. You froze, your terrified eyes snapping to her wet, sorry, scared ones.

‘Don’t let Ray do it,’ she said.

--

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t been there before, you knew where it was. You wrapped on the door so hard you would later discover the skin on your knuckles had split. All you could hear was the ringing in your ears, your vision narrowed down to a pinprick, the look on Marla’s face so drawn, so scared, so resolute, imprinted on the inside of your eyelids. You kept wrapping, hopping from side to side, your tears mingling with the frigid air. You called for him on his front porch, your voice high and choking on the fear, on the grief in it.

He'd wrenched the door open, having pulled his boots on but not yet done up the laces, the furrow in his brow deep, his eyes wild when he clocked you, when he checked your six.

‘Jesus, are you? What is it?’ he spluttered, and you couldn’t let him finish, had to get the words out in case they poisoned you.

‘She’s bit, Joel,’ you spat out, watching his face fall.

‘Who, Ellie?’ he asked, panic rising in his voice, and you choked out a sob, shaking your head fiercely. He grabbed you by both shoulders, bending down to look you in the eye. You shook underneath him, wanted to launch yourself into his chest and bury yourself in it.

‘Marla,’ you said, shivering so hard your jaw was barely cooperating. ‘She came back bit.’

‘Where is she?’ he asked, and you told him. You’d locked her in your treatment room. She hadn’t turned yet, and you figured there was still an hour or two, maybe. The tremors you’d thought were the cold, shock.

‘Please, Joel,’ you said, and he was already heading back into the house to grab his rifle. Tears were streaming down your face now, your knees threatening to give. ‘Please be kind about it.’

He pulled you in, off his porch and into his living room. Set you down on the rug beside the fire.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said. ‘You stay here, you stay warm. You wait for me. You don’t come lookin’, you hear me?’

You nodded, and he shook his head at you. ‘Repeat it,’ he said.

‘I won’t come looking,’ you said, quiet and desperate like a child. He nodded, then, his rifle slung over his shoulder. You took a long breath in, felt the burn of it down your chest and into your lungs. Felt the electricity crackle between the two of you, arcing from his chest to yours through the air, let it fuel you for the next part.

--

The three of you had just left Chicago, two or so days into your trek towards Wyoming, to maybe find something better, to maybe find more of the same. Ray and Marla were ahead of you by about four paces, you deciding to hang back to let them chat. You could hear their murmurs, Ray’s giggle high and giddy when Marla made him laugh. You could imagine the two of them strolling down a sidewalk together, one hand holding their coffees with the other hand holding each other’s. You could see the golden light of the late afternoon in the trees, backlighting them as they chatted about their work, about their friends, about what movie they wanted to see on the weekend. You could imagine them going out for dinner of an evening, Marla resting her head on Ray’s shoulder as the sun set over the water, the two of them intertwined and suburban and blissfully, delightfully bored.

You were so lost in this reverie that you hadn’t realised they were talking to you until you nearly rammed into them, and you stopped to see them smiling, warmly at you.

‘You were a million miles away,’ Marla observed, and she reached out to pinch your arm.

‘Years,’ you said. ‘I was a million years away.’

--

 You sat with your legs folded underneath you on Joel’s floor, the fire warming your skin enough to remind you that you were alive. Your stomach ached, your chest burned, you rocked backwards and forwards and tucked your chin into your chest and sobbed, alternating between wiping your tears with the top of your shirt and just letting them fall onto the carpet.

You saw yourself as if you were floating outside your body, observed yourself get up on all fours and keen into the carpet, unleashing a wail unlike anything you’d ever heard. You thought, for a second, that this woman on the floor was unrecognisable, was barely human, scratching at the rug and trying to breathe through the sobs.

The night grew darker. The fire died down. You collapsed in on yourself, felt the last guide rope tethering you to the ground fail, and you slipped under, crouched on the floor with your forehead resting on your arms, your knees numb from the weight of pressing into the rug, your mind empty, time having stopped, the world having fallen off its axis. A small part of you observed in wonder at how much grief you could carry. A larger part, a wiser part, a part that had taken a back seat to let the banshee take the wheel for a while, knew that this was so much more than Marla. Knew that it was all of them, a ledger steeped in red.

In the darkness you became vaguely aware of footsteps, the sound of the fire being stoked, logs being added. Felt a blanket thrown over your shoulders, then warm hands on the small of your back guiding you, pulling you up and over to sit astride a warm body, a strong pair of legs. You wrapped your arms around him, clung to him like a koala to a Eucalypt, snuffled your tear-streaked face into his neck, into his shirt. He held you to him, a hand buried in your hair and cradling your skull in his palm, the other wrapped around your back, easing the fabric away and tucking under, to touch you, skin to skin. You heard whispers of words, mixed with your own sobs, your own gasps. He held you through all of it, on aching bones on the hard floor, until the crashing waves settled, until you finally washed ashore.

‘You don’t have a couch,’ you said, after a while, pulling your head up to observe the oddly sparse furniture arrangement. He snickered, leaning you back to brush the hair out of your eyes, away from your wet face.

You realised, after a moment, heat on your cheeks. ‘Oh,’ you said, simply. He gazed at you, watched you put two and two together, stood unshaken in all that he had sacrificed for you.

‘But where do you sit?’ you asked, and he nodded towards the old rocking chair he’d pulled in from the porch outside. You nodded your head, because it was perfect really, and because it made sense, and because you needed it to.

‘Is she gone?’ you asked, shifting on his lap to watch his face. He blinked slowly, nodded. You felt your face crumple, felt him tighten his hold on you. ‘Was it bad?’ you choked out, and he shook his head.

‘She was so brave,’ he said, gravelly voice just above a whisper. He reached out and cupped your face, wiped a tear away, held your gaze to him. ‘She was ready. She said when it was time.’

‘She didn’t…turn?’ you asked, clinging to his forearms now, letting him anchor you. He shook his head once more.

‘No, baby,’ he said, and you wanted to wrap yourself up in the sound of it, let it blanket you in warmth and quiet, burrow down into it and hibernate for the winter.

‘Thank you,’ you said, simply. He hummed in response, collecting a tear on his thumb and raising it to his lips, licking it clean. You gasped at the sight of it, his eyes never leaving yours, squirming on his lap, the sudden heat in your cunt catching you off guard. ‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he raised his eyebrows at you. ‘Are your legs numb?’ and he laughed then, because you had managed to surprise him, and after he caught his breath he sheepishly nodded. ‘Take me to bed, then,’ you said, climbing off him and extending a hand. You hauled him up, his knees creaking. For a moment the both of you stood, staring at each other in the light of the fire. You felt breathless with need for him, your head swimming, the sadness shifting just enough to let the heat in, the want. ‘Up the stairs,’ he told you. You slipped your hand into his paw.

--

Joel’s bedroom was sparse, the walnut oak bed pressed up against the wall, a stack of books on the floor beneath a bare lamp, a guitar in the corner. His scent was all over the sheets, all over the clothes strewn around the floor. You pressed yourself against him in the hope that you would absorb some of it into your cotton.

The moment you crossed the threshold his hands were on you, pulling your clothes from you like they had personally insulted him, shucking your jeans off your hips and pulling your panties down with them until you were bare, standing before him at the foot of his bed. He took a step back and you watched his face as his gaze devoured you, the heat of it so scorching that you could swear you could feel his fingers on you even standing three feet away. You trembled from the cold air and the intensity of it, and he saw in your face, read in you that you wanted to turn away from it, from the intimacy of it.

‘Don’t,’ he all but whispered, coming towards you and running his hands up on the outside of your arms. ‘Don’t be shy, not now,’ he said. He slipped a hand behind your back and his knees between yours, pushing you gently onto the bed behind you, laid his body over you and nipped at the skin behind your ear. You pulled at his flannel, trying to claw it from him without even unbuttoning it, groaning in frustration when the garment held fast. He snickered, his little lopsided grin, as he pulled it away.

You lifted yourself up on one arm, bringing the other to cradle him to you, licks and nibbles to his collar bone, to the patches of hair on his chin. His brought his hands to your breasts, pebbled the nipple with his fingers while he pushed and rolled them, squeezed them together just to watch them bounce. He was hard and heavy between your legs, still covered in his jeans, and you lifted shaking fingers to his belt buckle. He froze, a sharp intake of breath between his teeth, as he watched you. You faltered, worried for a second you had read it all wrong, that he was going to push you from him, that he had seen something in you, that you had revealed something wrong and gnarled.

‘Do you…should I?’ you stuttered, and he came to his senses again, his brow creasing when he saw you were floundering.

‘Oh, my sweet girl,’ he said, and you thought it would be kinder if he just set you on fire at that point, ‘darlin’ I was just awed for a second, that somethin’ as gorgeous as you would want a man like me. An old man like me.’

You felt the relief wash over you, your pulse quickening now but not from fear. ‘Seasoned,’ you grinned, bringing him back down to you, pulling him on top of you as his hands helped yours to free him, push his jeans over his hips. ‘Worn in,’ you went on, and he grinned at your little game. ‘Fine wine,’ you finished, and he snickered again.

‘Vinegar,’ he said, and you pushed his head down to your chest, fed him your breast, let him lave at your nipple while you gasped and clutched at his hair.

‘Experienced,’ you whimpered, and he huffed out a warm laugh into your breastbone. You wanted to unlock your ribs, swing them open like an ancient garden gate, and capture it there for safe keeping.

Free, now, the two of you naked and lying together on top of his blanket, the sheets rumpling underneath you as you rutted against each other. He reached a hand down to cup your sex, groaning when he felt how wet he had made you, how you were dripping for him. You gasped as he ran his fingers up and over your slit, gently teasing your lips apart, testing you, teasing you. You rolled your hips, trying to snare him, trying to slide him inside, but he worked against you, zigged when you zagged, and your frustrated little gasps delighted him.

‘Joel,’ you groaned, your voice tight across your chest, not enough air in your lungs to properly scold him. He ignored you, instead lifting his lips to his fingers and sampling a little taste. You watched him, eyes wide as his fell shut at the taste of you.

‘So sweet,’ he said, almost to himself, before he opened his eyes as if he just remembered you were there. ‘Here, baby,’ he said, and he fed yourself to you, his fingers sliding over your tongue as you suckled at them, his hot breath on your face as he watched you, pupils dark in the half-light of his lamp, sweat forming on his brow.

When you had sucked them clean he lowered them again, slipped them inside you, bending down to rest his ear on your mouth when you began to pant, to whimper.

‘Show me,’ he said, pulling your hand to your cunt and watching as you began slow, lazy circles around your clit. He furrowed his brow, pushed off you and down to watch properly, lifted a leg to prop you open, planting your foot on the mattress beneath you to open you wide and obscene in front of him. You blushed, moved to cover your face with your hands, but he stopped and caught you, brought your fingers back to your core before he slipped inside again. You raised your head to look at him beneath you and you realised he was learning you, studying your movements to replicate them later, letting you teach him how to touch you so that you’d never have to do it alone again.

Your first orgasm hit you hard. Under his careful, studious gaze you felt yourself unravel, your legs shaking where he held you open, his hand grasping at your ankle to keep you from slamming shut. So lost in the feeling of it, of the blooming heat expanding out and into your belly, of the undulations of your cunt around his fingers, that you barely noticed him slip his fingers from you and slide to the ground beside the bed, pushing your legs into your chest and holding them there, pressing you in half all the better to ease his tongue into your cunt and lick up your spend, kitten licks at your sensitive clit before plunging his tongue into your hole, breathing hard through his nose and groaning, uttering filth in the base of his throat as he devoured you, wrung your second orgasm from you in a matter of minutes, rolling from side to side and head thrown back, hands tangled in his hair as his mouth rode you, as he stayed with you up to your peak and then over it, savouring and lapping at your come, rutting into the side of the bed as he let your thighs down to rest on his shoulders, your breath ragged and rippling with pleasure, hands clutching to the blanket to steady himself, to catch his breath.

He gazed at you in repose, ran his eyes over your sopping cunt up to your heaving belly, to the curve of the underside of your breast, the nipples straining into the cold air, and then up to your face, your head thrown back as you came down, as you squirmed from the overstimulation still coursing through you, as you let your hands drop beside you, sated and glorious in his worship of you.

You swallowed, your mouth, lips, throat dry. With shaky hands you reached for him, grabbed at the air above his shoulders, felt him shift and rise up to meet you, felt his weight blanketing you as you came back to yourself. With one hand in your hair and the other tracing your cheek, your jaw, you opened your eyes to stare into his, the desire carved hard and deep into his features.

‘Take it,’ you whispered, watching as his bottom lip quivered with need. ‘Please, Joel.’

He shifted his weight to one arm, reached down between you as you lifted your legs to bracket his hips, crossing your feet at the ankles behind his back. You felt him guide his cock to the weeping maw of your cunt.

‘Please,’ you whispered again, as you felt him slip inside you, the burn and the stretch and the force of him, so hard and pulsing as he parted you. He dropped his head, sighing, and you planted your lips to his brow, whimpered at the weight of his cock inside you, at the weight of the two of you finally, finally joined.

‘She’s tight, baby,’ he said, his brow creasing. He moved his hips, shoving further into you in one shot, and you gasped, grabbed at his shoulders, brought his eyes back to yours. He paused, gazing into your eyes, read the trepidation in them. ‘S’ok baby,’ he cooed, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheekbone. ‘You can do it,’ he encouraged, and you felt the warmth of his reassurance radiate down your thighs. ‘We can take our time,’ he said, languidly pulling back from you before gently, achingly, taking his place again. ‘Got all night for ya,’ he said, and you realised he had started to ramble, and that under his hot breath, on top of his blanket in his sparse bedroom lit only by his bedside lamp, in the cold Jackson night where the snow dampened all the noise, all the loss, all the sharp edges down, you never wanted him to stop whispering his filthy encouragement to you, never wanted him to stop easing his way into you, to the core of you, marking you where only he belonged.

‘Doin’ so good for me,’ he went on, his eyes closing on their own, lost in the grip of your cunt around him, in the heat of you. Finally he was fully seated, the warmth of his belly coming to rest upon yours. He settled there, reluctant to move, until you squirmed underneath him, caged whimpers escaping your throat. He opened his eyes, his lopsided grin appearing above you, as he planted a kiss on your hairline, gazed down at you as you stretched around him. He brought his hand down to cup your jaw again, held you there under his stare, as he withdrew his hips and eased back in again, pushing deeper into you that you gasped when he bottomed out, his eyes never leaving yours as your mouth dropped open in surprise at the feeling he was pulling from you, at the need and the ache of your cunt spread so open and wanting for him, at the way he was so effortlessly taking you apart, so calmly and so warmly unravelling you.

‘Too good,’ you complained, your brow saddling and jaw clenching, as you felt your cunt grip and release, grip and release. He cooed at you, revelling in your whimpers, gasped as you did, shared in your breath, made you submit to the divinity he was pushing you towards. This was how your third orgasm found you.

Locked in his gaze you could only lie beneath him, holding him to you by the shoulders and groaning as he pistoned in and out, watching his eyes slam shut as he was dragged under, submitted to the pull, his come washing the fear and the stress and the grief out of you, replacing it only with scorching heat, with a kind of pleasure indistinguishable from a greedy, pernicious want, with something that, in another life, you could have shaped into love. 

--

You lay, entwined together, under his blanket. Your head on his chest, ear to his heartbeat, you felt your body rise and fall as he breathed underneath you. You hadn’t wanted the night to end, hadn’t wanted to close your eyes and wake to the aftermath. Together you lay and watched the sunrise. Occasionally Joel ran his fingers up and down your arm to let you know he was still there.

‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he hummed in response. You kept your head down, listening to his pulse quicken as you spoke. ‘Canna ask you something?’ you said, jaw resting on his ribs.

‘Uhhuh,’ he said, but his fingers were stopped now, frozen in place on your shoulder.

‘Before, when we were…’ you trailed off, because even though hours before he had been eyelevel with your swollen, puffy cunt, now suddenly talking about it felt too intimate. ‘Before,’ you started again, ‘you said you didn’t think I’d want a man like you.’

‘An old man,’ he corrected, and you smiled.

‘Seasoned,’ you corrected, and he groaned, theatrically. ‘But you said a man like you, then an old man like you,’ you reminded him. He wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the temperature in the room drop. ‘What did you mean?’ you ploughed on, because you were in it now.

He thought for a moment, swallowing hard. You shifted in his arms, looked up at him, saw the flicker of panic there, before he reset his features in stone. You pulled away from him in surprise, not having seen that look directed at you in weeks, not since the first time he had appeared reticent and sore at your door. Your stomach dropped.

‘I gotta check on the horses,’ he said, rolling you out of the way and moving to get up. You sat up with him, grabbing at his arm.

‘Joel,’ you said, trying to pull him back towards you, but so easily overpowered. He rolled his shoulder, shaking you off.

‘The two that came back, they need to be checked over. Waited for first light.’

‘Joel, I don’t understand what’s happening.’ He was standing, pacing around the room pulling his clothes back together, gathering yours and dropping them on the end of the bed. He stared at you, expectant, but you refused to move.

‘What kind of man did you mean, Joel?’ you pressed him, and he scoffed, pulling his jeans on and hastily doing up his shirt. He missed a few buttons, and in that moment you didn’t feel like helping him.

‘You know exactly what kind of man,’ he said.

You saw Maria’s tense shoulders when he came into her kitchen, bleeding. You saw her sitting in your kitchen as you held her feet to your chest, explaining how Tommy was different, how he had only wanted to impress his big brother.

Sort of dressed, he was now pacing, the morning light turning his skin a ghostly pale, and you thought for a moment he was haunting you. ‘You know exactly,’ he repeated. ‘Same reason you came running to me the second your friend needed killin’.’

You flinched like he’d slapped you, would have preferred if he had.

‘What kind of man, Joel?’ you asked, and he looked at you, then, tortured for a second before he wiped it away with his hand on his face.

‘A fuckin killer,’ he said, quiet and deathly in the chill of the morning.

You stared at him, heart racing. You were surprised and you also weren’t. You knew what this world demanded of people, the toll you had all paid for survival.

‘Infected?’ you asked, and he sighed, frustrated.

‘Don’t be so fuckin’ naïve,’ he said.

You remembered you were naked, but this was the first time he had really made you feel it, and you held the blanket to your chest, tight.

He wouldn’t look at you, staring instead out the window as Jackson woke.

‘I ain’t a good man,’ he said, quietly, and you shook your head.

‘I don’t believe that,’ you said, and he sneered at you then, picked up your clothes and threw them at you.

‘You don’t know shit about me,’ he said, and then he was gone. You listened as his heavy footsteps stomped down the stairs, the pause as he pulled his boots on, the slam of the door.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

[shutupineedtothink]

[Theory] Agatha All Along title meaning + character arc for Agatha

Back on the theory train — here’s another thing that’s bugging me. Why is the show called Agatha All Along, besides the cute allusion to the song. I know for a fact Jac Schaeffer is too clever and too good of a writer to not make it mean something more.

I’m feeling like it must tie into Agatha’s character arc for the show, so let me take you on a little hypothetical journey here.

Spoilers below the cut!

Now that I’ve rewatched those last few episodes of WandaVision, I can’t get Agatha’s flashback out of my head. Particularly her saying, practically pleading, “I can be good” and her mother replying “no, you cannot.” Like holy shit. That’s a condemnation if I ever heard one. A different kind of curse passed down by a different kind of mother.

I’m starting to wonder… what if Agatha was always this powerful, even without the Darkhold. What if she was so innately powerful, her own mother and her entire coven was afraid of her? Maybe they even suspected her of being the Scarlet Witch, and therefore capable of ending the world itself? And because she was so powerful, and every other witch around her didn’t even want to touch her much less teach her, what if she went looking for resources herself? And whether that was the actual Darkhold or something else “above her station” (… I’m not convinced she had the Darkhold yet at the time of this WV flashback scene) that only served as the indictment the other witches needed to finally attack her?

Basically where I’m going with this is… what if Agatha was raised to believe she was bad? If she was always told she was basically evil incarnate, always feared for her power, too powerful for her own good, too powerful to be good, to anyone… her own coven, her sisters, and her mother were afraid of her and shunned her… what would that core belief do to her?

Let’s also assume her coven were the first (maybe only) people she intentionally killed (and even then, in self defense). The way she looks when she takes the amulet from her mother’s body — she’s angry, but how much of that anger is directed at herself? How much of her thought, well, look, they were right. I am bad. I am evil. And there’s no turning back now. And I hate myself for it.

Except maybe, she tries. She’s constantly trying to escape this fate, this identity that was forced on her. She never joins another coven in the centuries after, not only because no one wants her and she has serious trust issues but because she doesn’t want to hurt them, intentionally or not. She doesn’t need their power, she’s already more powerful than just about any other witch. So she studies. She learns the craft. She controls her power. And she leans into the persona of Agatha the powerful evil witch, because why not? That’s what they all think of her anyway. Let her control the narrative then. She wears her reputation like armor, so that no one can betray her ever again. As Rio says, “you’re vulnerable.” And she replies, “only physically.”

Then at some point, the unthinkable happens. She meets Rio, falls in love with her, figures out who she is (not necessarily in that order) and maybe she thinks, what kind of person falls in love with death? Surely that must be even more confirmation that she’s horrible (despite the fact that Rio is not horrible, not really, and certainly not to her). But she tries not to care, and mostly she doesn’t because she’s in love.

And then she has Nicky, however that happens, and she’s absolutely terrified but he is hers, and she loves him like she never loved anyone before. And she’s determined — he will be powerful but he will never think he’s anything less than because of it. He is finally, finally something good that came from her.

And then he too, is ripped away from her, by her own lover Death, and however it happened (even though it definitely wasn’t intentional on her part), she knows it’s her fault. Because she is evil, she is horrible, and this is her fate. She is betrayed by the people she loves, and she is left behind.

But still! She can’t give him up. She can’t stop trying. And she feels the absolutely insane surge of power in Westview and inserts herself into the Scarlet Witch’s hex, when no other witch would even dare get close, because maybe with enough power, with Wanda’s power, she can remake Nicky. (“And you wanted him back.”) She can create somewhere he’ll be safe and everyone else will be safe, and she won’t cause any more damage, to anyone. Death will never find them. She can raise her son in peace. She never wanted Wanda’s power just for power’s sake, she wanted what Wanda created, but better. Her version.

And then that too, was gone. And once again, she was painted the villain.

And now? Now it seems like all the pieces of her past are coming back to haunt her all at once. A new coven of witches who seem impossible to get along with, her lover Death who she tried to escape for so long, and a boy who looks like he might be the version of her son she was trying to recreate, who seems to adore her despite everything she is and wants to learn magic more than anything else. It’s all come back around.

So maybe, through reasons and events currently unfolding, Agatha’s journey on The Road (and the show) is to realize, or at least begin to maybe believe slightly, that she’s not inherently evil. She’s not an inherently bad person, or bad luck, or horrible. It wasn’t all her fault. Nicky’s death wasn’t her fault, even if she couldn’t save him. Death is part of her journey, as it is for us all, and maybe she can learn to accept that, maybe even love the woman who carries that name again, or at least forgive her.

Maybe this boy isn’t hers, but she can care for him and teach him the magic she never got to teach her own son. There can be a coven who actually has her back, who even sees her as their leader, who knows her and accepts her for what she truly is. Extremely flawed, powerful as all fuck, snarky and sarcastic, but the real her.

Not Agatha the evil witch. Not Agatha the villain (because she never was one). Not Agatha the hero either. Just Agatha. All Along.

———

Eh?? 🤷‍♀️

Now maybe in the show it’s not quite as angsty as all this, but Jac Schaeffer is writing this character too complexly and Kathryn Hahn is playing her too complexly for at least some of this not to be true. Agatha’s not just a villain. She’s not true evil. It’s only episode 4 and we basically know for a fact based on her reactions alone that Agatha did NOT sacrifice her own child for the book of the damned. And I just can’t get over the way Kathryn Hahn almost seems to be playing two characters with Agatha, the (evil) witch and the vulnerable Agatha underneath that only seems to surface for Teen and Rio, so far.

It’s fascinating, and I just want to see her get the depth of story she deserves. And we deserve, tbh.

[hederasgarden]

no thoughts just Six with a breeding kink.

i think a part of him is scared because he doesn’t think he’d be a good dad but i also think he simply can’t help himself

You guys are coming for me tonight with these asks and I love it.

Warning for lots of pregnancy talk, breeding kink, and everything in between. We also have a little angsty chit chat before getting to the good stuff. 

I agree Six has a breeding kink but I also think he's deeply conflicted about it. He may not see himself as a bad person but he did spend most of his adult life doing the CIA's dirty work. Because of that, when it comes to the reader and any children they may have together, he probably feels like he's tainting them in some way. He would always be worried about the possibility of his past catching up to him and putting his family in danger. 

Then there are his complex feelings and concerns about whether or not he'd be a good dad. His only example growing up was an abuser. I suspect and hope that in this AU - if Fitz is alive - Six would draw a lot on that relationship when it comes to being a parent (which isn't exactly healthy either). I have a LOT of thoughts on this topic, especially if he ever had a son instead of a daughter, because you know he'd be terrified of repeating the cycle of violence he grew up with. 

Anyway, angsty thoughts aside, let's dive into some horny ones. That is, after all, why everyone is here, right?

Prepare yourself for lots of questionable thoughts below. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Six is an observant man and picks up on everything, so he definitely knows your cycle. Probably even better than you do, and although he’d never admit it, he finds himself wanting you even more during your fertile window. 

He also thinks about getting you pregnant more than he cares to acknowledge. Sometimes, he finds himself fantasizing about how your belly would look all swollen and round with his child. He especially likes to think about how that means everyone would know he did that to you. It’s a visible signal that you’re his, and speaks to that deep-rooted, primal part of himself he tries to ignore.

When it comes to fucking you, he loves having you on your back, laid out under him, so he can see absolutely everything. When he's about to come, he'll grab the back of your thighs and shove himself as deep inside as he can. Afterwards, he likes to lay his body over yours and have you cockwarm him to make sure his cum is inside you as long as possible. He definitely enjoys watching it leak out of you too, but he always pushes it back inside with his fingers. 

I don't see him as a big dirty talker outside of an errant, "Let me fill you up," or "I got what you need," if he was really lost in the sauce. He would certainly talk you through sex in general with lots of things like, "That good, sweetheart? Yeah? You like that? I got you. Mmmm let me hear you..." etc.

Once he does manage to knock you up and comes to terms with everything, he is even more obsessed with having you 24/7 – especially when you're further along. He loves to take you on your side, thrusting into you slowly while he cradles your belly. Having you on your hands and knees would be another favorite of his because he can press his chest to your back and get nice and deep. He loves stroking your stomach and letting his fingers drag down to where he disappears inside you.

Unlike before, sex when you’re pregnant isn’t something desperate and hurried. It’s a slow affair. Six wants to savor and draw it out. 

Thanks for sending in the ask, anon! And a big thank you to @ryebecca and @gettingvetted for looking this over! Also, thank you @elusivewildflower for letting me scream in your DMs about this.

[spicedwatermel0n]

Teen designs references "update", just making the standstills nicer and improving on some stuff

Nigel: very quiet, but will talk occasionally. He has a reputation in the school as the honor role kid, and is loved among the teachers. However, he despises most of them in return. Despite his ability to pull straight As and never get in trouble, he only does it because he's supposed to be undercover. There's a few teachers he likes, and they're the ones who've openly defended innocent kids or expressed disgust towards bad treatment of children. Otherwise, he hates each and every one of them. Many rumors surround him and who he is. Some suspect he's partially deaf in his missing ear (the one on the same side as the missing eye), as he often fails to respond to people. This is completely false. He does this because he doesn't want to speak to anyone. He does, however, have severe vision problems. In his only eye, he suffers from glaucoma-like vision loss. This makes him prone to bumping into objects/people, but everyone does their best to respect him and let it go because of his muscular build.

Kuki: a social butterfly, as she was as a child. She never grew out of acting youthful. Similarly to Nigel, she really doesn't like the people around her. She tries to fit in for her own safety, as she's currently flying under the radar as a cishet girl and anything getting out could be dangerous for her + cause her to be dead named forcefully. She fits in well with the popular girls, and it gives her an excuse to dress up nicely and use make-up. Her classes are pretty average. She's not the greatest, but she isn't close to failing. She is hardly noticed by the teachers.

Abby: a geek. She doesn't hang out around anyone besides Nigel. She's often bullied for various reasons, but the number one reason is her being too complex to fit in with any one particular group or cliche. She's complex in a way that people find odd, which leads to her getting bullied. She's quiet, but simply because she doesn't feel the need to say anything unless she's spoken to first. Nigel's presence tends to keep people from bullying her, since everyone is terrified of Nigel. She'll try to find him whenever she can so she can avoid harassment and have some company. She's in a lot of clubs and does great work for the school as a part of a KND supported program meant to make education easier, run by some teachers who happen to be apart of the AND in secret. The teachers have no problems with Abby, since she's clearly intelligent and has no problem learning, and she tends to give them space when they aren't teaching her as to respect them.

THE NEXT TWO PARAGRAPHS WILL GET INTO SOME HEAVY TOPICS LIKE SELF HARM, SUICIDE, ABUSE, BULLYING, BIGOTRY, DRUGS, AND UNDERAGED ALCOHOLISM. I DO NOT SUPPORT THEIR ACTIONS, THIS IS MEANT TO PORTRAY THE EVENT OF CHILDHOOD TRAUMA CAUSING A PERSON TO BECOME MORALLY GREY.

Hoagie: a hardcore drug addict, and a well known dealer. He drowns out his sorrows with stolen alcoholic beverages, and cuts for his own self deprecating pleasure. He tends to go into a state of perpetual agony when intoxicated, but thankfully doesn't experience any violent emotions. He lacks consideration for anyone who may see him in this state, and will become intoxicated in front of those who care for him enough times to be a problem. Aside from experiencing abuse at home, he is also beaten up frequently at school. His impressive height doesn't intimidate the people who corner him into empty rooms and beat him enough for him to be marked absent from his next class. These beatings are usually motivated by homophobia, as his identity as gay was spread all across the school in his early years. He has horrible grades in his classes, and his teachers despise him. This is further solidified by his engagement in delinquency, such as vandalizing rooms in the school, busting objects, and getting into verbal fights with staff. Despite seeming like he enjoys his lifestyle of illegal substances and actions on the outside, he is well aware of his own decline and has attempted numerous times. He feels like he can do nothing but watch as he turns into the exact opposite of the person he wanted to be growing up. Additional note: he has a beaten pickup truck that he drives frequently, especially with being the only one to own his own vehicle. It was gifted to him by his mother, who had been paying for the old pickup (once owned by Gilligan Sr) just long enough to lend it over to Hoagie.

Wally: also a hardcore drug addict, but not a dealer himself. He frequents delinquency acts more than Hoagie does, and finds amusement in going out at dusk to steal, destroy property, and spray paint on the property of consumer locations. He's more into the drugs than the alcohol, which he gets at a discounted price from Hoagie. He tends to follow shortly behind Hoagie, no matter where he goes. His identity as transgender is forced to be disrespected by the staff, and he is not allowed to wear anything gender affirming. He often attempts to get into physical fights with staff for misgendering him on bad days. He's rarely in class, and when he is, he's clearly too high to be in attendance. Along with Hoagie, he is often assaulted by other students for homophobic/transphobic reasons. He is targeted more than Hoagie is due to his size, and that Wally has simply given up with fighting back. Despite immense strength, Wally is so weak from his habits that he couldn't do much of what he normally could, even if he wanted to. His open ideations and desires for death are what makes him want to stand there and take it, rather than defend himself. Wally is known for lashing out at people, and sometimes hurting himself in front of others if he gets angry enough. He will bite into his own arm and tear the flesh off, albeit not much, due to his weakness from drug addiction. This is extremely problematic for the others and they try their best to keep away from Wally when he's not doing well, for his own safety, and for their sanity. He has needed multiple stitches after self harming himself due to him getting overwhelmed with emotions and carving himself like a piece of paper. The only thing keeping him from constantly idealizing is Hoagie's company. If anything is proof that they can recover from this horrible state and prevent themselves from turning into something that'll devastate society, it's the small flame that burns for each other's quiet embrace. On the calmer days, they'll cuddle each other underneath of "their tree" for hours, never speaking a word.

[msookyspooky]

i would love to hear your thoughts on mickey alterti as a yandere cause he definitely would be one 🫶

OMFG I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE 😩😭😏

♡ Mickey Being Obsessed With You ♡

Yandere Mickey x GN!Reader • Problematic af

- He saw you on campus and flirted with you regularly. You just laughed it off and soon he started mingling within your friend group.

- You didn't think much about it at first...But it was odd that everytime something 'bad' happened; he was there to offer you comfort and support

- When the Ghostface kills happened, he was the first one to tell you everything was okay and he wouldn't let anything happen to you

- When you found a body for the first time, he hugged you close to him and sshhed you that everything would be alright...How weird he didn't seem too distraught over seeing someone mangled...

- Soon people that slighted you were coming up missing and later found dead. Mutilated beyond recognition, actually. You always saw the way Mickey would glare at them. Absolute hatred towards anyone mean or rude to you...You just thought he was a good friend!

- But when your friends came up dead, this time, you started to freak out. Mickey talked to you in private after a good friend was attacked with a superficial wound. He told you, "...Why would the killer not kill them? Just be careful with them, YN."

- The police were suspecting you or someone in your inner circle. Mickey panicked when the police made you a suspect. You thought he was just THAT loyal that he believed you could never be the killer.

- Soon, your friend was found with evidence in their bag that they screamed wasn't there's. They were arrested and all you could do was accept your friend was the killer all along. You were devastated!

- You felt suspicious of Mickey just because his behavior was odd but with your friend being caught red handed; he was just a good guy! A bit cynical, dark humor, overbearing and overprotective but he wasn't a killer.

- Mickey was the only person you had left and he wanted you to have a movie night with him just to make sure you were okay.

- While at his place, he went to get snacks and you saw his camrecorder just sitting there...You smiled to yourself and snuck a peak. Thinking you'd see movie shots or his friends....Your face fell when you saw the footage.

- Every video was you. From far away a long time ago before you even talked to him clear up to present day. It was endless reel of you. You. You....You.

- You snuck out and ran as fast as you could. Terrified.

- You hid, trying to get to the police when a Ghostface appeared. Trying to grab you as you fought back. You fought with everything you had. Then you heard the voice. Confirming who the killer really was.

- "Don't make me hurt you, YN!" He peeled off the mask and looked at you like you were the only person in the world. "We're okay now. Especially with all those annoying people out of the way. Don't you see it!? We can be together now! It's okay...You can be with me now."

- He holds you captive from that point forward. Whispering sweet words to you in a soft voice while he held his knife dangerously close to your throat. He took you back to his place, letting you know that if you told; he'd kill you or someone you care about. Be a shame if you told police and he wasn't caught. What if your entire family or friends off campus came up dead?...He knew where you lived, where they lived, when they were home....He knew everything about you.

- The killings stopped. Your friend was going to trial. Mickey and you were 'dating' now. It was A-Okay and only because you let him love you.

- He constantly recorded you no matter how miserable you looked. Claiming you were his muse with an adoring smile.

- He was extremely loving towards you. So soft, playful, loyal. He was arguably the best boyfriend you had when he was in a good mood.

- However, that dark look would enter his eyes whenever anyone but him held your attention for too long. Especially another guy. His grip on you would get painful, his mood would sour and he'd start making threats again. Swearing that if you left him; people would die. Maybe even you...If he couldn't have you, no one could.

- He'd hunt you down if you tried to leave him. Knife in hand and a feral look in his eyes. "Don't fight me, YN. You know I love you. You know I only want what's best for you...Just accept it!"

- You were his only. You didn't need friends when you had him. As long as you were good; the mask and knife stayed hidden. But if you acted up and someone got killed? That wasn't Mickey's doing, that was yours. If you ran away and he hurt you? That was your fault too. He can't control himself, you know this. Just be so good for him and let him be a good boyfriend.

- Once you accepted it; he was an amazing guy. He did anything for you. Had no eyes for anyone else. Laughed at every joke. Listened intently to what you had to say with a grin on his face. Would hold you close if anyone dared come near you especially in a flirty way. Loved you like you were the only love he ever knew. Desperate for you every time you were together.

- HOWEVER...Friends were only permitted as long as they didn't take time away from him. People joked that you and Mickey were attached at the hip and you forced a smile to play along no matter how much you wanted to tell them. He had to come to every family get together. He would become distraught, close to tears and rage if you just simply wanted time away with a family member or alone time. It took hours of him trying to emotionally manipulate you and you trying to argue it was fine...He usually won.

- You were his. Only his. You just had to accept this was your life now. That your boyfriend was an obsessed serial killer that made you the object of his obsession.

[cocoa-rococo]

Koopaling Headcanons: Lemmy

Larry | Morton | Wendy | Iggy | Roy | Lemmy | Ludwig

The clown prince of crime and everyone's favorite circus performer! Gosh he's adorable.

Right-handed.

Fairly sensitive about his height. The rest of the Koopa Troop know better than to bring it up. Just. Don't call him short. Last guy who did ended up with more than a broken nose.

Allergic to peanuts, which is unfortunate, because a lot of folks like them roasted at circuses. He likes other nut butters better anyway.

Likes collecting old circus memorabilia, such as posters, small trinkets, and flyers. He started it when he was younger, and has kept it going ever since.

He purposefully lets people underestimate him due to his silly personality and clown aesthetics. Makes it all the sweeter when he ends up with the last laugh.

Can and will juggle just about anything. Ludwig had to stop him on multiple occasions because he was tossing around something dangerous for fun (and profit).

Is very fond of caramel corn and citrus candies, as well as fruit gummies.

Favorite cookies are snickerdoodles and classic chocolate chip, but he loves fruit pies and sweet crêpes for dessert, really anything flaky with layers.

An excellent roller and ice-skater, given his balance. He, Wendy, and Larry like to skate together sometimes.

Very tactile person! Likes giving and receiving hugs, pats on the back, head scratches, and secret handshakes.

Similarly, a tactile learner; if you want him to remember something, give him something he can hold.

Because of his smaller size and how much he moves, any sickness he gets hits him like a truck, but also burns through his system pretty quick.

The only member of the castle with permission to enter Iggy's lab at any time without prior warning or knocking.

Has an almost terrifying amount of emotional intelligence and is very good at sussing out the crux of a relationship problem, sometimes even before the other person does.

Always rehearses his tricks in front of Iggy before anyone else, because he knows he’ll always be guaranteed a laugh, as well as critique on what he can improve on.

One of the lesser strict generals, which the minions are thankful for, but will also ask them to assist in his tricks. This can range anywhere from "hand him something" to "balance on a ball while juggling flaming hammers". The minions are not so thankful for this.

His proficiency with stage illusions actually helped him grasp the concepts of his wand's abilities. Out of the Koopalings, his strength lies in how precise his magic is, able to pull what he needs right when he needs it, as well as being able to divide and manage his concentration.

Likes to exercise with Roy, though he leans more towards yoga and calisthenics than weight training.

He likes all kinds of flowers, but likes seeing cosmos and marigolds the most. Poppies are nice, too.

He can be just as bad as Iggy when it comes to pulling pranks, mainly because no one suspects him; he manages to get out of 99% of situations by pulling the "ohhhh I'm just a lil guy" card.

An alarmingly good impressionist. More than once he fooled the guards into doing something for him by pretending to voice someone else.

Given his small size and how active he is, his metabolism is working overtime to fuel him. He eats almost as much as Larry.

Mastered the art of making the perfect hot chocolate drink, inspired by his trips into the ice lands. Wendy is determined to learn his secret. Lemmy is an adorable steel vault.

If you pick him up or he falls over, he has this… almost ragdoll-like heft to him, with dangly limbs and a little flopping from where you grab him, like he's made of sand or a weighted stuffed animal. The only time this doesn't seem to affect him is when he's on his ball. No one can really explain why this is.

Favorite fruit is any kind of berry, as well as peaches (formed before any interaction with a certain princess).

Morton used to carry him under his arm when they were younger. For what purpose? None know. Lemmy, though, was happy to stay there until he was put down again.

He likes sleeping where he's suspended, like swings, tree tents, and other such places. There was a notable instance where Kamek once found him tucked in his shell and snoozing in an empty hanging plant holder.

Really good at shuffling cards and coin moves, really any sort of street magic or little parlor trick. He's been learning tarot interpretation from Kammy because it's always a hit at parties.

His bombs are his own invention. Iggy helped him develop the combustion system and ratio of powder to use, but the shape, style, and make are all his own. Similarly, the tires he sells for his business are made from the same rubber as his balancing balls.

One of the most agile of all his siblings, and one of the best climbers.

He used to share a bunk bed with Iggy when they were young, but once they got older and had their own separate rooms, he used a hammock instead of a bed. It's quite cozy, with lots of blankets and pillows.

One of his favorite snacks is roasted sunflower seeds with a little salt. Crunchy, and especially tasty after an energetic routine.

The one most likely to lose things. Not because he misplaced them somewhere, but because he made them vanish via magic trick, and can't remember if he re-summoned them again.

Takes any sort of dance class he can. He's energetic and likes being able to move around a lot, but he's especially fond of tap, hip-hop (no pun intended), and ballet. The latter he practices with Wendy.

[szollibisz]

Do you have any hcs abt how Curt and Owen "came out" to one another? (Using the term loosely cuz obviously they can't just be like "IM GAY") And also how they got together (who fell first etc etc)

Ok, so to preface this, my favourite thing about curtwen is just how many ways you can interpret their pre-canon relationship.

I try to keep their story relatively loose in my head, save for a few headcanons I very strongly believe in, because it's more fun this way.

For me, the #1 headcanon that's in all the iterations I think of, is that they hated each other at first. I think their personalities clash way too much for them to be all buddy-buddy on the first day. (Physical attraction? maybe. Was it minuscule compared to their irritation with each other? yes.)

I just think it's interesting how the two of them gradually (and begrudgingly) start to care about each other.

I think their "friendship stage" is one of my favourite parts about the whole thing. Now I refuse to believe either of those men have friends. Maybe coworkers and acquaintances, but not friends. Which is why this stage lasts so little.

As their work their way up to care for and respect each other, both of them go a little crazy about it.

It's the first time in years or even decades they felt genuine affection and maybe even trust, and both of them are extremely starved for it. So it really doesn't take much for them to fall for each other. (especially since the aforementioned physical attraction was always there and only getting stronger as they learned to tolerate each other)

I imagine, because of this, Owen was the one who fell first, and he employed his usual tactic for dealing with unwanted feelings: Being an ass and depriving himself of good things. He got more intense about his work, trying to immerse himself in it, so he'll stop thinking about Curt. He stayed up late, didn't even try to take it easy when he had a migraine, drank shit coffee and other great things.

It technically worked. He looked like shit, which in turn made Curt worried, and if Owen completely invalidated his worries the two of them would get into a fight, be mad at each other and not interact so much. Owen thought this would make him not yearn for Curt so bad (he still did, in fact, yearn for him that bad)

When Curt realized he was in love with Owen he was pretty horrified. Like listen. If someone has commitment issues it's Curt. Maybe he had a boyfriend or two during his teenage years/twenties, but they didn't end well, and since then he's been trying to keep everybody at arms length. He convinced himself Owen wasn't so bad because hey. They were just buddies (and Curt desperately needed a buddy.)

He tried to shove down and ignore his feelings, but moaning your friend's name while banging another guy may just be a little more than what you can avoid.

He never understood why Owen turned so cold suddenly, and he was terrified Owen just didn't like or trust him anymore. In turn he was also mad at him for trying to shut him out.

Their little hate renaissance could only last so long though. They were still each other's only friends and no matter what they did they kept being drawn back to each other.

This was a super long preface but. I am not normal about those two.

So. different scenarios and headcanons and whatnot

1. Either one of them somehow discovers the other is gay. This would probably mean Owen finding out about Curt, because, I wholeheartedly believe that man would leave during a mission sometimes just to get a quick fuck in. Maybe Owen finds out with evidence (fast & easy method) or he just starts strongly suspecting with his great spying and deduction skills (slow & torturous method, he'd try to convince himself he's just seeing what he wants to see) either way, the confrontation would be very uncomfortable for both of them. Curt would deny it ofc, and Owen would go through the internal battle of "tell him it's fine, you won't rat him out, but be a little homophobic about it, so maybe you can keep the only friend you have, but also be ok with the fact that he'll always be with other men and never you" or "tell him you're gay too, maybe he likes you, maybe not, and potentially risk losing your job and livelihood and everything you've ever worked for" He'd most likely end up doing the latter, surprising both Curt and himself. (He's already way more into Curt than he admits to himself) And things escalate from there.

2. Dramatic post mission (maybe a "I thought I'd never see you again" moment) This is where their friendship gets really interesting to me. For a scenario like this the months long yearning is a given, maybe even a lot of unresolved tension between the two (which would probably be resolved with violence anyways) They care very deeply about each other by now. They know each other better than anyone, and their idyllic relationship is only made into a living hell by all the pining. At this point I mean, they'd buy each other birthday gifts, go over to the other's house when they were in the same country and share way too much info over drinks. Their job is always dangerous, but even they can get scared. Maybe we're talking being crazy outnumbered, or a torture/hostage situations, or hell even a collapsing building. Point is, id either one of them thought the other (or both of them) may die, at this point they'd be impulsive enough to just say I love you or kiss the other. In the moment neither of them would care, and later on, when you'd normally talk about things like near death makeout sessions, they'd just. not. do that, because communication is for guys with better life prospects. This one has absolutely no coming-out talk in it, simply because they don't need it

3. Possibly drunk hookup Now clearly, we are talking about two of the most down bad men ever. This is one scenario, I think could also work really well when they still really hated each other. Maybe throughout their first few mission they both gathered enough evidence and sussed each other out, and after (yet another) explosive fight they might just. Alleviate the tension by not beating each other up but by. other means. They don't end up talking much about it, but it keeps happening, and wait maybe they don't even hate each other all that much. (This is the more sober option) The other one is where the "possibly drunk" comes in. If they've been friends for a while, they probably got used to working around each other and finding comfort in the other's presence. This includes little habits, inside jokes, and even (very small) physical touches. This probably wouldn't go down during a mission, it's more likely to happen at either Curt's or Owen's house, maybe during some holiday. Both of them realizing it's a pretty bad idea early on, because, without all the stress of the missions and navigating a foreign country all that's left is them and the feelings they have for each other. Owen would probably say no to drinks for the first few times, just to avoid a potentially dangerous situation, but Curt would wear him down eventually. Now, with both of them drunk and comfortable, it wouldn't take much for things to escalate. Maybe Curt forgets to take his hand off of Owen after patting him on the back, or Owen holds Curt gaze for a little too long. Either way, those two end up fucking. The next day both of them are a little horrified, but they manage to come clean about their feelings (even if it's in the most backwards and convoluted way possible)

Happy ending (or not) There's many more ways it could've happened, but I already wrote wayyyy too much I think.

In the end I don't think they'd ever have a proper conversation about homosexuality, even way into their relationship. It's something they slowly pick up on from each other. How ashamed are they, what makes them tick, what you shouldn't say etc. And then of course, since they don't communicate properly and sometimes purposefully hurt each other, they'd throw it all back in the other's face.

I'm not sure this is what you meant when you asked for hcs, but I got carried away.

[separatist-apologist]

What are your favorite monster fics? I’ve read all of yours and you have left me craving it.

You can't go wrong with any of these, and they are also my personal favorites:

On Waves of Blue by @kingofsummer93 [elucien]

Elain is bored of her mind-numbingly dull life as Princess of Mushroom Kingdom. The only excitement she's ever known is the threat of the great fire-breathing King Koopa, intent on making her his bride.

Is it so wrong, then, that she doesn't fear his return?

To Tango With The Devil by @iambutmortal [feysand]

For two years, Feyre’s been obsessed with the demon statue in the church. It haunts her dreams, even on the eve of her wedding. To bad the statue’s just as obsessed with her.

Bow Down by @shadowisles-writes [elucien]

When one of Elain's rituals releases more magic than usual, a much bigger demon than what she has ever protected herself against comes to her door. No amount of hidden traps and talismans can protect her from what he wants to take.

My Heart of Stone by @c-e-d-dreamer [nessian]

“Why do you run from me, my mate?” the gargoyle asks, tilting his head and sending his dark hair cascading over one shoulder.

Nesta feels hysterical, fear rising like bile in the back of her throat, but somehow she’s able to choke out the words, “what did you just call me?”

Howl by @iftheshoef1tz [azris]

When Azriel suspects that werewolves are behind the disappearance of his brother, he turns to the only werewolf expert he knows. Unfortunately for Azriel, Eris might be the werewolf he's been looking for.

Smite My Enemies by @abraxos-and-ataraxia [nessian]

Nesta summons a creature to obliterate her enemies, but quickly finds another use for the demon that appears.

A Woman So Heartless by @velidewrites [nessian]

When the Goddess of the Underworld grants a mortal General an extended stay in the land of the living, she doesn’t expect him to come back with another deal — one she has no idea will ruin her life forever.

Bejeweled by @thesistersarcheron [feysand]

Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines dripping in ceremonial jewels while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him.

He doesn’t expect to find Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him.

Meet Me In The Woods by @paranoidbagel [feysand]

Returning to the ancient forests surrounding his ancestral home in the Scottish highlands, Rhys quickly discovers how the hunter becomes the hunted when a bloodthirsty Scottish faerie turns her ravenous sights on him.

The Music of the Night by @the-lonelybarricade [feysand]

It's Feyre's first year as an elligible maiden for the village reaping. In order to escape the chance of being chosen, Feyre rushes into a marriage with Lord Tamlin. She is terrified on her wedding night, but foruntately she is spared from consumating her marriage when she is pulled into a strange, erotic dream with an enchanting creature.

Paint It Red by @moodymelanist [nessian]

Nesta Archeron has been thirsting for revenge against Tomas Mandray since a fatal encounter in November 1940. When he suddenly reappears decades later, she finally has the perfect opportunity to make him pay for what he’s done. Her only problem? She and her friends aren’t powerful enough to take Tomas and his lackeys down on their own…

Cassian Valladares is the deadliest vampire hunter Windhaven has seen in a generation. When Nesta approaches him with a plan to kill her ex-fiancé, he’s initially hesitant – he wants nothing to do with leeches, especially one who almost got him killed. But as the bodies start piling up, Cassian and his brothers are forced to reconsider…

Will Nesta and Cassian be able to put aside their differences long enough to work together? Or will they find themselves consumed by something else entirely?

Crow Song by @damedechance [gwynriel]

Three years ago, Gwyneth Berdara became the ward of the Night Institute, a band of hunters led by Rhysand who work to rid the world of vampires. After one fateful night where Gwyn unwittingly welcomes one such creature into their home, she strikes a deal with Azriel, one that is just as likely to condemn them as it is to save them.

What The Shadows Hide by @shadowsxgwynriel [gwynriel]

When Gwyn goes out on the night of Calanmai to search for a missing priestess, she’ll soon find out that something lurks in the shadows...

[yanderes-galore]

Also another yandere concept for Narancia because again Yandere potential

Sure! Just a warning, I started this late at night because I couldn't sleep and didn't want to wait, so spelling and grammar may be incorrect. Decided to cover overall behavior and tendencies more than an actual plot.

Yandere! Narancia Ghirga Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Anger issues, Stalking, Manipulation, Jealousy, Violence, Delusional behavior, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Threats, Blood, Murder implied, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Narancia could be considered a very clingy and volatile yandere.

He's had a tough upbringing and would definitely be overly attached to someone he likes.

His behavior and Stand bring up some things to consider with him being a yandere.

For example, he can use Aerosmith to stalk you by tracking your breathing.

Narancia doesn't even have to be all that close and the ability means you can't leave easily.

Narancia is a yandere you have to be careful around.

I say this due to his temper that can change rather quickly.

He most likely shares this trait with Fugo, but Narancia is more childish.

Narancia may be rough at times, yet he's endlessly loyal.

When obsessed with you he's determined to win over your attention.

Even as an adult in this concept he retains childish behavior.

An example of this is being temperamental and overly upset when jealous.

Due to his temper I wouldn't be surprised if he attacked someone for being too close to you.

It just seems to be his nature.

Narancia is often a handful for his obsession.

He values the bond he has with his obsession and is scared of possible betrayal.

Which makes him nervous that he'll lose your attention.

While Narancia is primarily an unnerving and terrifying yandere, he's so sweet with you.

Sweet to the point others wouldn't suspect a thing.

He's unnerving, threatening, and aggressive with others.

Yet with you he clings to you, all smiles and sweetness.

Even Fugo is perplexed when Narancia is around his favorite person.

Narancia may also be delusional with you, convinced you feel the same about him.

He works as either platonic or romantic, his core yandere is pretty much the same regardless.

Said core yandere is clingy, volatile, and manipulative.

He definitely acts childish when you have to leave him alone.

He often complains and pouts when you tell him you have to go.

Even when you leave he still sends Aerosmith to track you.

When you're away from Narancia, others notice him and see him not being as excited as usual.

He really is at his best (and worse) with you by his side.

Which is why he manipulates you into staying with him as long as possible.

His most terrifying factor is his violent nature.

He always has a switch blade on him and is rather quick to pull it out on people.

The moment anyone says something about you near Narancia, he listens.

Negative or positive, Narancia wants others to keep your name out of their mouths.

He may just cut their tongue out to prevent that.

The thing is, Narancia doesn't seem like he'd be a bad yandere.

But he is.

He's incredibly possessive.

It's to the point he'll threaten or even harm those too close to you.

He works in a gang, he's used to this sort of thing since he was young.

He can be terrifying to someone he doesn't like... then immediately come up to you all smiles.

Oh he adores you.

Finding blood on his clothes isn't new.

You just have to silently hope that he didn't kill some poor soul.

Although, if he wanted that to happen and you not to know about it...

He could always just use Aerosmith.

Fugo may confront Narancia about his obsession, but he only gets told off by his friend.

It's not weird...

Not in Narancia's eyes, at least.

It's dangerous out there, Narancia following you home is just to make sure you get there safely.

Same reason when he uses Aerosmith to guard you!

You just seem to... understand Narancia, which is why you're the one he clings to.

He doesn't seem like he'd kidnap, he seems more into following you around.

He wants you to have some freedom... you wouldn't like him otherwise.

Plus, anyone who gets too close usually ends up with an irritated Narancia confronting them.

Narancia is very needy when it comes to affection and definitely enjoys physical affection.

Things like hugs (alternatively kisses) are things he enjoys.

If anyone has an issue seeing him being affectionate with you, you can guess what happens.

So overall, Narancia is definitely a temperamental and childish yandere who clings to his darling.

He hates to share and will do anything to keep your attention on him.

No one can take you from him once he's attached...

Not unless they want a switchblade in the chest or a barrage of bullets through their flesh.

"Oi, where are you going!? Don't leave yet...! Please stay longer!"

[foreverautumn89]

Every clue that Lonnie was abusive Pt 3

There is a couple of points of abuse in here kind of all wrapped together: Jonathan says Will is really good at hiding. So good at hiding that even the police couldn't find him so Jonathan thinks. Police who are trained to find hidden things.

Jonathan thinks they won't be able to find him. Although theres more to this one hold up so…either way you frame this I dont know whcih one is the truth or if both are true but either way it confirms Lonnie is abusive: Why is Will so good at hiding? Another clue. Well Will got so good at hiding because Will and Jonathan would have to hide from Lonnie and when Jonathan was fighting Lonnie off and protecting Will, Will would go and hide and would have to hide often. So much that he got so good at it.

And/or Jonathan was again making up an excuse that the cops wouldn't be able to find Will's body and Lonnie was good at covering up his bad behavior and what type of person he is [we know this to be true given the funeral scene] and Jonathan would know where to look first where Lonnie possibly hid the evidence so Lonnie couldn't get away with it. He also would know if Lonnie was lying to the cops which is why Jonathan wanted to be there to hear what Lonnie had to say and Jonathan didn't trust the cops he was so used to Lonnie talking his way out of things with everyone and always just getting away with everything. Either way it confirms the abuse and the fact that a certain someone was ignoring the abuse and making up excuses for Lonnie.

------------------------------

Hopper refuses to let Jonathan go and tells him so. ''Yeah well cops are good at finding. Stay here with your mom she needs you." Again, I'm not sure if Hopper is competely aware of the abuse or hes strongly suspecting it. Its never clear.

In this part Hopper was either testing his theory to see Jonathan's reaction to figure out if Jonathan was being abused OR he did this because thats just Hopper being stern with him. But either way, Jonathan's reaction is what gives it away that he was abused. Hopper grabs Jonathan by the shoulders and Jonathan looks frozen and scared because usually when hes grabbed by an older man what came after was what Lonnie did to him. Then Hopper gives him a punch on the arm to see his reaction. If Hopper was trying to figure out if his theory was correct-Jonathan's reaction to all of that just proved it [and notice he continues to hunt down Lonnie] If Hopper knew Jonathan was being abused already and didn't need to test it, than that was just Hopper being stern with him and the little 'man to man' punch on the arm was intended to be a manly sorry about grabbing you way.

Really what I think was happening was Hopper grabbing him so aggressively was not what was intended, that just shows how scared Hopper was of Jonathan going there to see Lonnie. He was so scared he grabbed Jonathan because he was that terrified of another kid getting lost. and the pucn on the arm was to a manly thing to say sorry about grabbing you in alarm, buddy. Didn't mean to.' But even this way shows how scared Hopper is by the thought of Jonathan being around Lonnie. So either way you interpret that situation, it all points to abuse.

Jonathan disobeys Hopper and goes to Lonnie's house anyway to look for Will BY HIMSELF since Hopper wouldn't let him go, Jonathan is going to save Will from that monster one way or another. And it shows that Jonathan doesn't trust the police/any authority figure to do their job because hes so used to that happening. Again going back to everything I said in the previous posts about why that is.

--------------------------

On the drive to Lonnies, Jonathan remembers him and Will listening to should I say or should I go and the relevant bit to this discussion is Will saying 'Idk its fun to go with him [Lonnie] sometimes'. The ppl claiming that Jonathan and Will were never abused always try to bring this up to debunk the Jonathan and Will were abused 'theory'. But it actually does the OPPOSITE.

Usually abuse victims have something called 'stolkholm syndrome' where someone loves their abuser and wants their approval. And this happens often with abusive parents and thier children. Because you're taught that you should love your mom and dad no matter what. Even if they're mean to you sometimes they just want whats best for you. Society not realizing the problem with telling children this-or at least telling abused children this. The rest of the world teaches them that its wrong not forgive your parents mistakes. Its wrong to not love your parents. So Will and Jonathan don't want to be bad people and even naturally they loved their dad because he is their dad. He was the one that didn't care about them, it wasn't the other way around.

They went through what every child went through: Wanting to spend time with your father and be close to him and make him proud and to get his approval. It must have taken a lot for Jonathan to overcome that and ofc the fans don't appreciate this fact. That Jonathan had to learn and teach himself the right things and raise himself and then Will: That if you have to change everything you are for someone to love you then they don't really love you [like what they went through with Lonnie]. If they really loved you they wouldnt want to change you, they'd love you for who you are. This also applies to Jonathan's issue with the Hawkins townspeople because they also believe that you should change everything you are to be accepted/popular/fit in. And ofc the fans also think Jonathan is disgusting for this and paint it as him 'thinking hes better than everyone''.

When really its just that Jonathan believes that you should be loved for who you truly are, not be somebody elses idea of perfect to be loved. Jonathan believes and had to learn the hard way that you should love and accept yourself for who you truly are and real love is when someone loves you for who you truly are. Like how he and Will love and accept each other and in this scene Jonathan even tells encourages Will to stop pleasing Lonnie ext and Jonathan shows that he loves Will for who he truly is.

That will doesn't have to pretend to be someone hes not with Lonnie to receive a fake version of love for him, when Will has someone who loves him as is always by his side [Jonathan]. And Jonathan even proves it to the audience that he means this when he asks Will again So you like this [the song] for real? Will nodded and smiled 'For real' and they danced to the song together. It was showing us that Jonathan was making sure that Will wasn't just saying he liked the song because Jonathan liked it and Will thought that was what J wanted to hear. He was making sure Will liked it because he really liked it, not to get someone elses approval.

[saintsenara]

Opinions on Tonks/Snape?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

here's where i confess that i've got quite a soft spot for stonks as a ship - and not just because of that ship name - because it's a great vehicle for one of my favourite post-war questions: how the hell do you put a life together in peacetime if you never expected to have survived the final battle?

that this would apply to snape is obvious - it's pretty clear in canon that [much like harry] his experience of the entire period 1981-1998 is that he's following a script written for him by dumbledore which he believes [and, i suspect, hopes] will end in his own annihilation. while i don't think he imagines dying in the exact way he does [and while a hill i will die on is that dumbledore tried as best as he could to arrange things so that snape would survive], i think the only post-war survival scenario he envisions for himself is a lifetime rotting in azkaban, continuing to punish himself and consider himself unworthy of absolution for his role in lily's death.

but - perhaps more controversially - i also think that this can be said to apply to tonks. while i would absolutely reject the suggestion that she would have imagined herself dying because she was a bad mother, i think that several things she says in deathly hallows - above all her recognition that she's locked into a battle to the death with bellatrix - would lead to her sharing the view lupin's shade expresses to harry when he summons him with the resurrection stone: that the greatest act of love she can show her son is to die for a world in which he can live freely.

[and i also think - indeed i am convinced of it - that she also thinks it's her duty to die trying to off bellatrix because her decision to join the order means that andromeda and ted's safety in the first war - something voldemort can be plausibly said to grant at bellatrix's request on the proviso that they keep their heads down and their mouths shut - is forfeit in the second.]

the post-war tonks - a widow at twenty-five, navigating life as a single mother to a tiny baby, dealing with her own cavernous grief over the loss of her father and her mother's grief over the loss of her husband - can be written about really interestingly as someone who's unmoored within her new life and looking for something - anything - to anchor herself.

and a snape who survives nagini is a really interesting tool in all sorts of post-war ships [snarry and snack chief among them] in how he serves as a connection to a lost generation. and, in this case, he is the only person tonks will know who - no matter how negative his assessment of him - actually knew lupin well.

and it's so clear that tonks' relationship with lupin in canon was shaped by her searching for answers about him which he kept hidden behind the mask of his own self-loathing. i can absolutely see her being devastated at the knowledge that his death means that she finds herself with no chance of ever actually uncovering the reality of him, and i can see this leading her to snape's hospital bedside out of a desire to grasp at someone - anyone - who might help her fill in those gaps.

but tonks is also clearly very bolshy and very brave - two traits you need to help you survive grieving the loss of one love and still have room to chase after another.

she's also clearly very curious and very kind. and so i think she's the order member - other than harry - who would be most able to accept the fact that snape was on their side all along and to believe that he should be pardoned. i think snape would find that show of trust in him terrifying - obviously - and i think he'd go out of his way to push her away as a result. but she's got plenty of prior experience at dealing with emotionally constipated men...

and i think you can make a very credible case for the idea that snape must genuinely quite like tonks. i think it's often overlooked just how clever she must be to be admitted as an auror, and how one of the areas in which she would have been required to be clever was potions. she's also clearly one of the youngest people in the role, and her position as a junior auror who ends up doing far more for the war effort than many of her seniors mirrors snape's experience as the youngest teacher at hogwarts. i also think her shock at just how horrible to her snape is in half-blood prince when he mocks her new patronus can be read as evidence that, during the order of the phoenix timeline, she and snape had a cordial relationship. and cordial for snape is transcendentally fond for anyone else...

[plus, his disappointment in her being interested in lupin is clearly because she's someone he respects - if he didn't think she was far too good for lupin, he wouldn't have bothered saying anything.]

i genuinely think you can do something lovely with the two of them initially coming together because they view the other as a life raft in a world they don't think really belongs to them, but then something which looks a lot like dry - and stable - land coming into view as they realise they have more than that in common.

snape's terrified, obviously, but tonks is a woman who understands how to go with the flow. she'll follow love where it takes her - no matter the obstacles she finds in the way - and he's going to have no choice but to come along for the ride.

[deusvervewrites]

"I suspected that was a Worm reference. But seeing as I have not read Worm, I do not know Worm."

Yeah, that ask is basically a description of the Worm MC's power.

How long did Izuku spend in the other dimension?

I'm assuming that Izuku's "Quirk" could be played as a really weird mutation of Inko's (attracting small things => controlling small things => controlling insects).

How does Koda react to his quirk? On the one hand, he's entomophobic, so he'll probably be terrified of him. On the other hand, it's kinda implied that his entomophobia is because of how they communicate, so he may be relieved he doesn't have to deal with it. On the other other hand (I have three hands) Even if their thoughts are alien and disturbing, he's still puppeting living, thinking beings, so he may be disturbed.

Lastly, While I personally think that it would be funny to make the AU name a Worm reference I remember all the posts you've answered about nobody shutting up about it so instead, how about Anansi for both Izuku's hero name and the AU name?

Ah missed this one in the backlog. I already answered about how long he was in Aletheia, so let's move on.

You could probably explain the bug control that way, but his nature magic--including spells and shapeshifting--would not be so easily explained. Any one of them could probably be explained as a Quirk, but all three (bugs, spells, wild shape) is a bit much.

Koda basically can't get a response from the bugs in Midoriya's control because they're effectively part of Midoriya while he's nearby. Koda would indeed find that a little off-putting.

Anansi isn't a bad Hero Name. I don't know if I'll go for it, due to the fact that Midoriya isn't part of any cultures with Anansi stories, but the trickster spider theming is solid.

[wafflesandd1ck]

How is it we got an anime of Rick and morty but no horror adult animation series of Danny Phantom?

Like the horror fanart on this site is ✨️INCREDIBLE✨️ and I need the creators to scroll through tumblr for inspiration.

I want to watch Danny Puke up ecoplasm mixed with blood after the accident in the lab and make the entire first episode, Sam and tucker terrified that they just watched their best friend die in his own basement and hiding his body. Going back to the fentons every couple of scenes to move him to a different spot in the house.

I want Sam to be busting out her "how to get away with murder" tips

They settle on, burying him in the park. The fentons put out a missing person's report.

I want tucker to get his phone intending to delete their chats about messing with the parents' lab, so they don't get suspected by the police.

Give me that panic and horror and FUCKING TENSION.

And then Danny wakes up screaming in agony. The plasm burning him and the pain is so intense it turns his hair bleach white.

I want him to spit maggots out his mouth while he crawls out of the creek bed. I I want his knuckles to crack and his ligaments to be tight from rigor mortus.

For episode 2. I wanna see Danny start rotting. His teeth and fingernails are falling out. His hair is coming out in clumps in the shower. His eyes are turning yellow. Sam has to start doing corpse/funeral makeup to make his skin look normal and less pale, pasty and blue.

I want the entire phasing experience to be painful for Danny. His hand goes through the wooden kitchen table, and he can feel every splinter piercing his flesh . He tries so hard to carry a conversation with his dad while he debates, degloving his hand to make the pain stop because he just can't figure out how he phased in the first place.

I want the school lunch lady not revealed to be a ghost until Danny's arguing with her in the middle of the cafeteria and everybody is looking at him like he's gone nuts and he has meltdown wondering if he really did die and is in hell.

This would be so good as a horror series. I think it would be great to take place senior year in high school. Age them all up a bit.

Mainly, so that a key point to the B plot on Danny's family is that they think he is morbidly depressed and on drugs.

SO

Make danny the apprentice to vlad, because his parents pulled strings to get him a job with their college BFF, then when danny finds out that vlad not only has the same tech as the fentons but he wants to basically sell ghost powers to people as a pharmaceutical, to manipulate people's fear of death and the unknown, then danny is like "bro no this shit sucks!" So vlad in a bout of ego is like "yo fuck you 17 year old boy. It ain't shit! Look, " and then infects himself with ecoplasm to be half ghost. Note that it does suck a lot, but vlad, being the ever-present businessman, knows how to manipulate a bad situation into profit.

Weirdly enough, they could run a lot of the episode plots from the cartoon into the adult series. They just have to play with the concepts.

Maybe to pass the fake out make-out (and the truly PAINFUL 'will they or wont they' that just takes entirely too fucking long to resolve), make Sam and Danny FWB until Valerie steps in, and that's the love triangle?

"You said you just wanted sex. What's the problem?"

"Sam, do you even care about me, or I am just part of some freaky kink to get back at your perfect parents?"

..I think about this a lot.

[nanomooselet]

Wraith V / Through A Glass Darkly

I admit to maybe being overly obsessed with this thing.

Because of (naturally) the colours (and the fact that at 100%, it looks like a flatlining heart monitor, as if we needed more indications this is a symbolic death). Vash in red/magenta and gold, Knives in blue/white and violet - until it's complete. Then Vash wakes up, suddenly all-violet, while Knives is left only with blue and teal.

Why would that be? Because Vash is at last consciously using his powers? Maybe. Likely.

But I, at least, would also like to believe Tesla has more to her story than forever remaining an objectified victim, though I know I'm probably deluding myself. (I'm interested to see just what, if anything, Orange plans for her. I've always felt there was more to her perspective.) I like to think she's present too, in her own strange way, and not simply as part of Knives.

What do you think her opinion would be of these events? Of her brothers?

What choice do you think she would have made?

I, personally, suspect Tesla would have had powers both to bring and to take, just like Vash. I doubt his personality being destroyed and his body brutally exploited to access those powers (never mind the purpose they're accessed to fulfil) is a plan she would want any part of, whatever her opinion of humanity. I think Knives had no idea what he invited upon himself making contact with the Core, something that exists outside of time. I think Tesla and Vash are both stranger and more existentially terrifying beings than even he imagines.

Knives baptised his brother in order to make him fit to receive divinity - and in Christianity, divinity comes as three parts in one. Not two equal opposites, as Knives conceptualises himself and his twin, but a singular whole expressed as three aspects. Parent...

Child...

Spirit.

His plan worked perfectly. He could not have made a bigger mistake.

Having been baptised, having received the spirit, the answer finally comes to Vash, and the truth.

Whose side are you on? Who are you?

See, it's made a point in Stampede, more than before, that the twins are almost physically identical. The resemblance is close enough for them to be mistaken for each other, something which Knives exploits. Even spending so much time so far apart, it seems inevitable that they influence each other. When one looks into the other's face, he sees his own reflection as in a mirror.

Though that almost never happens in the series. Knives and Vash almost never share the same eyeline.

They don't see eye-to-eye or face-to-face. Not until the very end.

The English dub, the finale, the question Vash asks as he finally begins to cry - "Who are you?" There's a reason he asks the question in those words.

Roberto said it in the first episode in the scene where we met Vash as an adult, hanging in the desert. "This clown's the big bad Typhoon? Vash the Stampede… who are you?" (The first time Vash gets called a fool or a clown, and not the last.)

Vash isn't quite sure... or rather, doesn't know who it is that he should be, if not what he is now. He's only ever been a counterpart, either allied or opposed, to his brother, and Knives has made it very clear what he thinks of any attempts to be anything else.

The question Roberto asks is the question the whole series builds towards answering because Vash isn't certain there is an answer, without his twin.

Until the moment he sees his brother, really sees him, and finally realises... that is not his reflection. He can't see himself in this mirror. There's something missing. And if that isn't his reflection, then who is he, looking? Who is Vash?

Whose side are you on? Who are you?

Human or Plant? Gun or Superman? Darkness or light? Yin or yang? Water or fire, heaven or earth? Are you a spirit, or a body? A machine or a living thing? Daydream or nightmare? Monster or angel?

Both? Neither?

The answer he ultimately gives is... not choosing an answer. It's looking beyond the question and the assumptions that it carries; being truly free. Knives has no right and no means to dictate who it is Vash becomes, and he never did. The question he asks is meaningless, and the dilemma he presents is false.

There's no choice.

'Cause I'm Vash the Stampede.

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

(1 Corinthians 13: 12-13)

The only true struggle is the struggle against oneself. And, at least in that moment, love wins.