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maxs-deactivated · 1 year ago

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Old vinyls.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader.

Summary: Joel's feelings bloomed even before the outbreak. 20 years, a lot of losses and survival later, he finally finds one of his missing pieces. A Joel Miller one shot.

A/N: bro I have NO IDEA of when I actually wrote this, I just remember it taking me a few days to finish, and I never posted it bc I tought it was bad, but now I reread this and OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS IS WONDERFUL?! Hope you guys like it as much as I did :)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, crying, soft Joel, drinking, swearing, lil bit of angst, happy ending, this thing is long af, it's been a long while since I watched the show/saw anything about the game so it might be a little out of character or just "off" in general, there's not really any mentions of gender for reader so here you go my fellow non binaries :D

Anyways, let's get to the fic.

You knew Joel.

Before the outbreak he was a single father, a very caring and loving one. Being his neighbor meant seeing him every now and then, being that type of colleague you see once in a while and say hi.

At least for the other neighbors.

You, in the other hand, was much more close than that.

To start with the fact that Tommy was your best friend, you two met at high school and became inseparable, so naturally you would know his brother, Joel, and his niece, Sarah. You always lived there, nearby, so it was normal for you to hang out with both brothers whenever you could and even take care of Sarah when Joel would come home late from work. You knew her since she was born and, hell, she was almost part of your family too.

Not that you would admit it out loud though. But you really cared for her, and for her father.

As you grew closer to Tommy, you grew inevitably closer to Joel as well. Since you met him you knew he was a cool guy, respectful but yet playful, not like the guys you met before that only talked about hooking up and making out, no, Joel was gentle and friendly and, when you know him, talkative. It always drew your attention how he looked after Tommy and, later on, Sarah. it was endearing to see.

When Sarah was 12, you moved in the house right next to Joel's, wich was the number one reason you became so close to him.

Oftenly you picked Sarah from school and had her sleep in your house because Joel would come home late, always recieving an apologizing look and a shy smile the morning after when he would come to take her home and, oh! How you loved that smile.

To "pay his debt" (as he liked to say) he'd take you out to some bar or a restaurant whenever Sarah went on a sleepover at a friend's house, and you two always ended up sitting on the corner just sipping on your drinks and talking about life, giving each other advice, sharing life experiences, and above all having a good time. He'd also not drink any alcohol just to drive you home safe, and refuse to listen to any of your protests.

One night you were at a restaurant, on the other side of the city, talking like always and Joel laughed at something you said, genuinely laughed. And that was when you realized you had fell in love with the man, you were always giving him those looks and scarlet cheeks without even noticing, until this night came and changed everything, you were now aware of every little glance, casual touch, any smile and laugh he gives you, you were drunk i this feeling.

But Joel? Oh, he already knew that for so long.

The moment for him was when you came to lunch with him and Sarah at his house, something around a year before. You helped him cook the meal, wich made him notice how much better that dish tasted with your touch to it whether it being just your presence or the ingredients you put, he wasn't quite sure yet.

After you all ate, you sat on the couch and Sarah suggested to put on some music, and right after that start looking through Joel's vinil collection. Let's say she knew what she was doing, first she put on some rock, Gun's and Roses, just in the ambience as you both talked and she washed the dishes. After that she found the vinil Joel had bought only and exclusively because you recommended from a band you really like, you say it reminds you of home, as your father used to play those songs all the time.

He watched as your eyes went wide with a look of excitement when realization washed over you, the melody forcing you to your feet and pulling Sarah. You rocked back and forth, dancing with the teenage girl, as you sang with the most wonderful voice you ever had.

The sparkle in your eyes mixed with Sarah's laughs and the vibe of the song made him realize how much of a wonderful person you are. Always kind to other and wiling to go out of your way to help someone, your charming personality and your unique style, oh! How much he loved that.

Joel not only saw your gorgeous features but also you, the real you. That is scared of thunders, that loves music, that cooks like a chef and have those little quirks and mannerisms he picked up unconsciously, all of that drove him out of his mind and he loved the feeling of loving you, it made him feel alive. Of course seeing how much Sarah likes you too and the way you're so caring towards her just makes it clear: you're the one for him.

Joel's drunk into it since that day. Every time you wave at him from your yard, every time he takes you to these restaurants and bars, when he sees you in his passanger seat, and the fact you just grow more and more admirable to him... It only makes him want you even more, it makes him want to be the one to treat you right after seeing so many partners destroy you. He'd glue pice by piece if needed.

Talking of bars... In one of those times you two went out, you decided to leave the bar you were at and go back to Joel's place. The food at the bar was absurdly expensive and your stomachs were grumbling way too loud for you to just spend the rest of the night there.

Once you got to his house, he made two sandwiches for the both of you and you ate slowly, never losing the topic you were talking about. When you two finished, Joel went to wash the dishes and once again you decided to put on some music.

Looking through his vinils you saw one you also had, a very very old one, dated in the 40's/50's. It started to spin and a few songs into it, it started playing one you really liked: 'Cheek to Cheek - Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong'. By that time Joel had already finished, he walked into the living room still wiping his hands with a towel when you started swaying around to the calm yet enthusiastic beat.

Moving your hips, you felt the melody entering your body and giving you the best feeling of peace. For Joel you looked ethereal in such form, unworried and calm.

A tought crossed his mind and he acted on it before the opportunity scaped. Joel approached you behind your back as you still had your eyes shut closed, feeling yourself through the song, he then placed his right hang on your waist testing the waters. First he had to know if you were okay with that, little did he know you were melting inside, unable to come up with something to do or say in that moment, so you just kept going, like nothing was happening.

As you didn't show any sign of discomfort or didn't flinch from his touch, he placed the left hand on the assigned place on your waist like it was supposed to be there for so long. Now becoming more comfortable, he swayed with you and came even closer, with that your hands automatically went to his, guiding them lower to your hips.

It felt like a dream for the both of you, and of course you wouldn't ruin it with any obvious comment, so you just accepted each other's presences and enjoyed it.

By the middle of the song you kept your hands in his as you turned to face him, still dancing lightly.

Joel looked into your beautifully colored irises and saw the contentment, making him bloom a smile of his own. As you also stared at his honey eyes you placed your arms on both sides of his head, lightly and gently wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck.

Ever so slowly you approached each other unconsciously, ending up doing exactly what the music says, dancing cheek to cheek.

In a few moments you pulled back, just to look at him in the eyes again, now you saw the desire and all the unspoken words and your eyes dropped to his mouth, slightly open and awaiting for what comes next. Yet you decided to speak up before things got confusing.

"I, uhm..." You start, looking down "I really like you Joel, and I don't mean just as a friend or in a way to get this situation to increase... I really do like you, and I have for a time now" now you look into his eyes again.

Joel seems surprised, probably much more because you had the courage to say it first than with the actual statemente, he already suspected your feelings. He opened his mouth a few times, looking for the best words to not fuck this up.

Before starting he let out a relieved breath "when I'm with you I feel alive" he let's out "You make my days a little bit brighter and you bring the colors of love back into my life" Joel laughs "gosh, I'm not even good with words but for you I have practiced this speech for so long... Waiting for the day I would be able to call you mine".

His gaze soft yet eager for you, analyzing every reaction of yours, he's been waiting for so long, poor man. While you're still processing what he just said.

"then do it, I've been your's for so long already" you breath out, coming closer again, but thus time your lips finally touch.

After that, what I can say is that your relationship is solid as rock, you love each other so much and absolutely no one can get into it, you are inseparable.

... Well, at least you thought.

A few days before the outbreak it was your father's birthday and you couldn't just not see him like the past two years, you decided to visit him, perfect timing for disaster.

As the snow falls outside the window of your house in Jackson, you remember it all like it was yesterday...

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" - you ask Joel as you hold onto his jacket. He just returns with a chuckle.

"C'mon! There's still time! You go home, pack your's and Sarah's things and I buy you two tickets, what do you think?" - you try again.

"You know I can't just leave everything behind, love. Sarah has school and I'm about to take that project" - Joel plants a kiss to your temple.

You're disappointed but not surprised, you alredy knew he couldn't come with you, but something within told you to push him and Sarah into that bus with you. Maybe it was just the idea of being three weeks away from your boyfriend, but there was still a bad feeling in you that you can't seem to get rid of.

He locks eyes with you, his honey eyes always seemed the things to calm you down don't matter what happened, and he opened his mouth to say something but the words never came out, you decide to talk then.

"I know love, I just... Have a bad feeling, you know?" - you sigh, looking to the ground then back at him.

"I'll miss you a lot" - you confess.

His gaze softens, with his hands wrapped around your face he leans to a kiss, that is interrupted by an announcement on the speakers, saying your bus was waiting.

Joel gives you one last peck on the lips before pulling you into his embrace. The man is not very good with words, you know that, so this is his way of saying 'I'll miss you too'.

When you pull back, his big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears, sight that make your own set water up. Painfully you break free from his grip, slowly walking away as the tears rolled down both of your cheeks.

...

When you first came to Jackson and you saw Tommy again after 20 years, you had talked to him about... Well, over all everything that happened but mostly what happened to Joel.

But Tommy isn't dumb, he knows who you are even after 20 years apart, he knows if he ever tells you where Joel is you would go flying to him in the same instant, but with all those ridlers and infected around he couldn't handle the idea of letting you go, even more after just reuniting with his biggest friend. He won't risk it.

When you two sat and talked, you asked him if he knew where Joel was, but Tommy shrugged, said in a breath that he just didn't talk to him for a long time and, as Joel is, he probably didn't stay in the same place for too long.

He also tol you about Sarah... With a painful voice he told you how he just watched as he lost his niece and his brother on the same night, because Joel just... Wasn't the same anymore, he changed, he did things (but Tommy never told what things)... Joel isn't the same man you met 20 years ago.

"Well, I didn't expect him to be the same" - that's what you told him, gaining a pitiful gaze from your friend.

Tommy feels pity for you, he thinks you're so lost in the world, and that you need for a purpose so bad, you will chase down any opportunity to go back to that old life of yours. You told him it wasn't about it but of couse he never listened, he just wished for you to wake up to reality, wich in his mind was, that you are now safe, in a place you can live the rest of your life in peace.

But it didn't erase your deep sadness.

It's been five months since you came to Jackson, it haven't been half as bad as you tought it would be, actually people here are neighbourly, everyone helps everyone. Gosh, you like this place. But you can't forget how lonely you feel now.

Of course, there's Tommy and his wife, but now you live alone in this enormous house he got you. Such a huge place and nothing to fill it with if not solitude. But the worst part of it is how seeing Tommy again resurfaced the feelings for Joel you so long burried away, as the only way you found of copig with the fact you would never see him again.

The problem is that now there is hope.

And suddently the urge to know more, to find him, hits you. You can find him, you just need the right clues.

You came back to your house, unlocking the door and shutting it behind you, you saw the map spread over the dining table and for a brief moment the possibility of staying and just... Leaving Joel be, crossed your mind. For a moment it doesn't seem so bad after all... If he didn't come to you before, why would he want you now? The person who took people's lives, who learned how to use a gun on their own, who can't sleep at night with the ghosts of the people they killed... You're not yourself anymore, why would he want you back?

But before you could think further into it, a knock behind you brings you back into reality. Turning the knob again to open it, you saw Tommy, in an euphoric state.

"You need to come with me, right now" - The man says with a wide smile across his face.

You're still clueless - "What happened?".

Before answering he pulled our of the door, dragging you by your arm across the street, right to the construction he was helping with.

You see the horses and recognize some of the people standing with them, but there's one little girl, around 13 or 14 years old, you can't record.

Abruptly Tommy stops to turn to you, with tears on his eyes - "someone heard your prayers, my friend".

He then placed a hand on your shoulder, leading you into the crowd of people, as you got further into it, your eyes catch Maria talking to a man, his salt and pepper hair falling over his eyebrows and then you saw it.

His big brown eyes.

Staring into your own.

Your heart drops and your knees turn weak. How are you even still standing?

"Joel?" - you call his name, but he is still unsure if it's a dream or not.

His heart beats loud on his ears with the realization, you are alive.

Tommy lets go of your shoulder and you waste no time in running to Joel, straight to the safety of his arms, safety you longed during 20 years. But yet he stays froze in place, maybe his mind was tricking him? Could it be an hallucination? He's tired and haven't slept in at least three days, he can't just trust his eyes right away.

But it is not necessary.

You finally get to him and he don't hesitate, his hands reaching for both sides of your face as he examinates it. Your gaze never leaving his as well.

Desperate arms pull you into his embrace. He smells like wet grass and wood, not the expensive cologne he used to wear when going out with you, but it isn't a problem. After all you found him, or better saying, he found you.

Joel tuck his fingers around the back of your neck and under your hair as he wishes to get closer to you, if it's possible. And he cries.

You hear his snifles on your ear and feel his tears leaving a wet spot on you jacket.

Joel's not good with words, you know that, but this is him saying "I missed you". This is him telling you about Sarah, Tess and how he lost himself the night of the outbreak, and it doesn't need one word to make you understand. He lost everything. But for what it seems, he just found everything again.

#I'm simply in love with my writing skills #anyways I have a test tomorrow so...#joel x male reader #tlou joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us

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snowdice · 1 month ago

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Big Bang Editing Story [Day 125]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57

I have been sick and I'm very tired, but I will work on the epilogue today for a bit at least!

Chapter 58 (Patton)

If Patton hadn’t already been looking, he probably wouldn’t have had any idea what happened.

Everything had been fine. Virgil had been sitting cross legged, idly watching the conclusion of the game they’d been playing when his posture had suddenly changed. Patton had looked over at him only to see an expression on his face he didn’t recognize, but it didn’t seem good.

“What?” Patton had asked, but the question didn’t seem to register to Virgil.

Logan had glanced up confused and also noticed Virgil’s face. He’d just opened his mouth to also ask what was going on when chaos descended.

Virgil was suddenly moving, crashing into King Thomas who hadn’t even looked up to see something was wrong at that point. Patton realized after the fact that Virgil had swiped up the board of the game they’d been playing as he jumped over it, the pieces previously stacked on it scattering all over the blanket. There were three thumps as some things hit the thick board, imbedding themselves into the surface.

When Virgil discarded the board in favor of the picnic basket, Patton saw there were small darts in it oozing a dark black liquid. The parts of the board they touched were dissolving, the grass under the new holes beginning to wilt rapidly.

Logan seemed to notice the oozing liquid the same moment Patton did and was quicker to realize what it was. He grabbed Patton’s arm and yanked him away from the board so hard he almost dislocated Patton’s shoulder, not that Patton was too worried about that. He scrambled away from it when he realized what it must be himself.

He could hear the sound of glassware smashing above them. Logan and Patton had rolled off the blanket in their quest to get away from the smoldering, melting board and apparently Virgil had pulled the picnic blanket fully over the king at some point.

Virgil himself was now gone from where he’d been the last time Patton had looked and it took him a moment to figure out where the boy had gone. The person who had been shooting poisoned darts at them had been drawn out of the wooded area they’d been hiding in by Virgil’s attacks.

They were cloaked in dark green from head to toe, explaining why they’d been difficult to spot when they were in the woods. Whoever they were, they were significantly larger than Virgil, possibly an actual adult or almost adult assassin, but they were also clearly a long distant fighter. They had not been expecting resistance let alone resistance in the form of a so quick he was almost a blur fellow assassin.

They had a bow strapped to their back, but they hadn’t had a chance to get it. Instead, they were trying to fight Virgil off with an arrow they’d managed to draw from their quiver. Virgil, meanwhile was lunging at them with a broken piece of plate in one hand and the picnic basket in the other.

Virgil dodged out of the way of the arrow striking towards his arm, though Patton didn’t think it was because he was afraid of getting scratched by an arrow, but because it may also be poisoned tipped.

Virgil was distracted by dodging for long enough that the older assassin managed to hit him in the face with the arm not holding the arrow.

He went down, but he took the older assassin with him, sweeping their legs out from under them. Patton hadn’t noticed (his mind working too slow for how fast they were moving) but they were on a slight incline. They went rolling in a tangle of arms and legs towards the edge of the cliff and skidded to a stop only a few feet away.

Virgil ended up on top, his piece of broken plate in his hands. He moved to slash it across the other assassin’s throat and managed to draw blood, but the assassin’s fist came out to shove at Virgil’s chest at just the right moment, causing the strike to veer off course and slice across the assassin’s cheek instead.

Virgil jerked to the side to avoid a second strike to the chest and went back for another slash. The other assassin rolled to the side as he did and the plate only managed to nick their ear. The point of the motion hadn’t been to dodge, however. They were lunging for the arrow they’d dropped a few feet away while they’d rolled. They grabbed it with their right hand and in the same motion stabbed back behind them towards Virgil.

Virgil rolled to avoid the hit, already slashing up with his plate as the assassin turned back towards him.

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He didn’t hit them this time but his swipe managed to stop them from stabbing him when they tried again. They shoved themselves back to avoid Virgil’s swing, putting a bit of distance between them. Both of them managed to make it to their feet during the momentary reprieve, but both also stayed crouched, eyeing each other.

They both lunged towards each other at the same time. The assassin went for a stab to Virgil’s neck with the arrow, but Virgil was already ducking down. This time, he wasn’t going for a kill shot. He grabbed the assassin’s wrist and at the same time drove his piece of plate into the assassin’s arm, slicing down from the elbow to wrist. The assassin spoke for the first time, cursing in a language Patton didn’t recognize as they were forced to drop their arrow.

Virgil took a moment to kick the arrow away from the assassin and it ended up falling off the cliff.

However, this pause gave the assassin enough time to regroup. Despite their arm bleeding profusely, they still decided to use it to backhand Virgil across the face viciously, leaving a long line of their own blood across his face.

Virgil lunged back forward, but the assassin was able to get a leg between them, kicking Virgil squarely in the chest and sending him flying back a few feet parallel to the cliff’s edge.

The assassin went to grab their bow and another arrow from the quiver still strapped to their shoulder.

Virgil, however, apparently went for another weapon too and he was much faster with a knife than any archer. A knife appeared in his hand, having been strapped to his ankle and was embedded into the assassin’s chest before they could even full remove an arrow from their quiver.

The assassin promptly burst into flames, fire catching their clothes (and from the smell of it their skin) ablaze. Panicked and dying, they stumbled two steps to the side. They stepped directly off the cliff.

There was a second of silence. They heard the sound of the body hitting the ground far below and then the flap of wings and screeching as birds below fled from the startling sound (and possible soon to be forest fire).

…

“Uh, Virgil?” King Thomas said. He had managed to get the blanket off his head at some point. When, Patton didn’t know, but seeing any of it was probably enough.

Oopsie.

Chapter 59 (Logan)

Logan and Patton had been useless during the fight, but that may have been for the best. Considering the skill differential when it came to fighting (and that differential had never been as clear as it was in this moment), that was probably for the best. They likely would have just gotten in the way.

The moment Logan’s father spoke, however, they both jumped into action.

They both knew their jobs in a situation like this. Patton pushed himself up to his feet ungracefully and all but sprinted over towards Virgil. Logan, on the other hand stood to face his father, putting himself very purposefully between the man who had no idea what was going on yet and the boy who was two seconds away from remembering what was going on.

“I can explain,” Logan said.

His father was still sitting on the ground. “You can explain,” he said slowly, “how Virgil just threw an assassin off a cliff.”

Logan thought pointing out that Virgil hadn’t thrown anyone off a cliff and instead had set them on fire with a magical knife causing them to walk off a cliff, would not be useful in this moment. He glanced back briefly towards where Virgil and Patton were standing and then turned back to his father. “Yes.”

“And what would that explanation be?”

Before even starting to speak, Logan found himself making large dramatic ‘explaining hand gestures’ that he’d thought he’d long since trained himself out of. When he was younger and in trouble, he always used to give himself away as guilty by being overly expressive with his hands (and arms).

“So,” Logan said. He was still not able to stop the hand motions. “Virgil was an assassin. He came here to kill you last fall, but he accidently went to the wrong room in the royal wing. Patton and I were having a slumber party and caught him in the act. Then we reformed him and now he doesn’t kill people anymore.” He paused and glanced back, remembering the body that had just toppled off the cliff. “Er, uh, he doesn’t kill people who haven’t shot poisoned darts at people recently anymore?”

“What?”

“Look,” Logan said. “You’re going to have to tell him you’re not going to execute him soon. Patton can only keep him from bolting for so long.”

“Execute him?” his father asked.

“Well, he was a Mocnejsi assassin sent to kill you,” Logan said.

“Virgil is a Mocnejsi assassin,” his father repeated as though to confirm he’d heard him right.

Logan had thought the Mocnejsi was implied. “He was,” Logan confirmed.

“Why does that make more sense than any other explanation I’ve come up with for him?” his father asked while pinching his brow. Logan took that as rhetorical. Then, his father looked at him again. “He’s 14.”

“Yes,” Logan said, “I’m also pretty sure this is the first person he’s actually killed while not under a blood compulsion, so you really need to tell him he’s not going to be executed.”

His father seemed to actually absorb Logan’s request this time. He finally looked over Logan’s shoulder at Virgil, concern crossing his face at what he saw. “Right.”

He moved to step around Logan then, and Logan let him. Logan turned to watch him slowly approach Patton and Virgil, his hands out in a placating manner. He stopped a few feet away.

“Hey,” his father said. “That was a bit scary, huh?” Virgil looked at him, eyes wide and darting around like they did when he was looking for an escape. There wasn’t much of one being so close to the edge of the cliff.

Logan would worry he’d contemplate throwing himself off of it in a bid to escape if Patton wasn’t clutching him to prevent that. “You did a good job.”

That seemed to give Virgil pause, his eyes focusing on father. “Good job?” he asked.

“Yes, well,” father said with a small smile, “judging by what those darts are doing to the grass and how far we are from any supplies for counter potions, I think you blocking them probably saved my life. So, I think a good job is in order.”

Virgil did not respond verbally, though he tilted his head like he did when he was thinking through the steps of a potion.

His posture changed enough that Patton released him cautiously, taking a step away.

“But,” Virgil said. “I’m an assassin.”

“Yes,” Father said. “I could tell by how that fight just went.”

Virgil shifted his weight. “I came here to kill you.”

His father spread his arms wide. “Yet, here I am,” he pointed out. “You’ve had me alone multiple times including once in a secret room possibly no one would have ever found. Plus, you saved me today. I think that more than makes up for the intentions you had months ago.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to send me to prison?” Virgil asked. “Or execute me?”

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“No, of course not,” his father said.

Virgil eyed him, still slightly warry.

“I promise, Virgil, you’re fine.”

“Dad wouldn’t lie,” Logan interjected. Virgil looked over at him and then back at Father. He nodded slowly.

“Good,” Father said. “Now can we get a bit further back from the edge?” He glanced at Patton. “You too, Patton.”

Virgil and Patton both stepped towards him, and he herded them far away from the edge until they were at the edge of the surrounding forest. Logan followed as well.

“Can I touch your face?” Father asked once they were sufficiently away from the cliffs.

Virgil nodded and father pulled out a handkerchief. He carefully wiped the blood off Virgil’s face the best he could (most of it was not Virgil’s) and inspected the boy’s split lip and already bruising eye.

“Is your chest alright?” Father asked.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah.”

Father considered him. “Enough to ride back to the castle.”

“It wasn’t that bad of a hit,” Virgil insisted.

Father studied him for a moment longer. “I’ll choose to believe you for now,” he said. “We should get back to the castle as soon as possible just in case this is not an isolated attack.”

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“We don’t work in teams,” Virgil informed them. “They worry we’d get emotionally attached and not complete our missions.”

“I can understand why they would say something like that,” Father said, letting just a bit of his scorn come through, “but still, we should be on our way.”

With that, he put an arm on Virgil’s back to guide him back towards where they’d left the horses.

“Huh,” Logan said to Patton as they began to walk behind them. “I thought we’d be in more trouble for all of this.”

His father paused at overhearing that, turning to look at them over his shoulder briefly.

“Ah,” said Logan with a grimace. “I see.”

“It’s been nice being your friend all these years Logan,” Patton said solemnly. “Too bad we’re both going to be locked in our rooms for the rest of our lives.”

“Until your 50s with good behavior,” Father informed them blandly.

That was… probably fair. They did allow an assassin to freely roam the castle for months without telling anyone. The fact that his father was now watching that assassin like a hawk to make sure he wasn’t more injured than he was saying, did not change that fact.

Logan couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

Epilogue

“Do you think they’ll light your trees on fire this year?” an amused (but slightly concerned) voice asked from behind Jeffers. Jeffers ran a finger over the empty thumb of his slightly dirty gardening gloves while watching the two boys. They were currently leaning over an unlit lantern and various “supplies.” In truth, he’d stopped his own work to watch the two boys out of that very concern.

“Virgil helped me fertilize that tree a week ago,” Jeffers replied. “So, I’d hope he has some caution.”

“Virgil likes fire though,” Thomas pointed out.

Jeffers sighed. “That he does.” He tilted his head towards Thomas. “You did confiscate the fire knife again after last week, yes?”

“I did,” Thomas confirmed, “but that means very little. Even burying that thing with a corpse did not dissuade him.”

As he spoke, a sudden spark of light flew from where the boys were working. A whining sound and then pop sounded as the spark exploded into 10 pieces, raining down colorful light. Luckily, they burned up before hitting the ground (or the tree).

“Boys, if you set anything on fire, you will be grounded from the festival,” Thomas called in a booming voice. Both boys jumped. Jeffers imagined Logan hadn’t even known he was there. (Virgil certainly did, but he still jumped. “For the second year in a row in Logan’s case.”

“They’re not flammable!” was the claim from Logan.

“I don’t believe you,” Thomas called back.

The boys ignored this, turning back to their experiment.

“We should have kept them grounded,” Thomas muttered. Despite Thomas’s original decision to ground Patton and Logan until their 50s (and Helen’s push to keep them grounded until Thomas, Helen, and Jeffers himself were all dead and couldn’t enforce it anymore), the boys had only been grounded for two months after Thomas had found out the truth of Virgil’s origins. That did, however, mean that Patton and Logan had been grounded from most of the lantern festival the year before.

89280

Logan, at least, seemed to be trying to make up for lost time this year (explosively). Jeffers did worry about where Patton was slightly, but honestly Patton without Logan or Virgil tended to be much less destructive in his hijinx. The worst he was probably doing was stealing sweets out from under Helen’s nose. Which was why both Jeffers and Thomas were currently here watching these two.

There were more sparks from the boy’s experiment. The grass caught fire at their feet. Virgil hastily stomped it out.

“I’ll watch them if you want to get food to bribe Virgil away,” Jeffers offered.

#proofreading stories

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thelastofharrington · 2 years ago

Text

the hard with the soft

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A/N: hello! this is my first joel fic that i've ever written! i'm really excited about it and made this whole blog just to post it lol. there is plenty of smut in this so mdni! let me know what you think :)

summary: Falling in love with Joel Miller was something that happened to you little by little, and then all at once. To say the chemistry was immediate would be a complete lie. At first, you couldn’t even tell if he wanted you around, let alone wanted you in his bed. No, when he rescued you that day from one of Bill’s well-laid traps, you were certain he would never see you as anything other than a nuisance. A pest he had to take care of.

Oh how wrong you were.

tags: praise, porn with context, slow burn, mutual pining, joel is soft on the inside, reader is down bad fr, non-canonical, rip bill and frank, takes place a year/two years after the show starts, love in the midst of an apocalypse is beautiful y'all

word count: 7k

i hope you enjoy!!!

Part 1: The Stumble, 1 Year Ago

You were hungry. Starving, even. You had been left behind from your group of outcasts three days ago (or had it been four? You were too exhausted to keep track of the time) when you twisted your ankle and couldn’t keep up the pace. You weren’t overly friendly with your most recent pack of ragtag survivors, mostly seeing them and each other as a mere means of survival rather than company. You hadn’t known friendliness or love from your packs since your parents got bit five years ago. Your parents couldn’t have known that three years after they brought you into the world it would fall apart, nor did they know they would both die protecting you from that same world they blindly brought you into. It’s been hard, but you’ve made it through and it actually was your birthday this week, the big 24. What a way to celebrate – being abandoned by the only thing keeping you safe and becoming walking bait for any clickers nearby. But still, you had fairly good spirits all things considered. Until you fell into an eight foot hole.

It was in this hole that you realized a couple of things:

You’ve stumbled upon a domesticated piece of land. Someone somewhere near had the time, safety, and resources to dig an eight foot hole.

If your ankle wasn’t sprained before, it was definitely sprained now considering how you landed on it.

You might have just fallen into your grave.

It was a series of progressively worse realizations, to say the least.

Time had already felt like a concept out of your grasp for the last 20 years, but now there was truly no way of knowing if you had been down there 20 minutes or two hours when a shadow was cast on you. A man-shaped shadow. A man-shaped shadow with a gun.

The gun was pointed right at you, the sun casting a halo around this giant man’s head. He towered over you as he held his stance firm and still. No one said anything as you both stood, unwavering.

“I come in peace?” You finally choke out, unsure of what you could possibly say to save your own life right now.

He doesn’t move, just croaks “How’d you find this place?” You notice the fragments of a Southern accent, nearly lost to the wear and tear of an apocalypse.

You clear your throat and try to muster up the courage to speak with conviction. “My group abandoned me when I twisted my ankle early this week. I’ve just been aimlessly wandering.” You pause, unsure of if the next sentence will be your last, “This ankle of mine really hurts by the way. Your hole here isn’t really helping, considering I landed on it.”

You see him move his head out from behind the gun and look down at you slightly, then he moves back to position. “Are you armed?”

“No, I’m barely legged.”

He does not laugh.

“That’s something we call a joke, you know, since I can barely walk and all.”

His weight shifts again and he finally puts down the gun. “I’m going to help you out, but after that you better see yourself out of here. I don’t want any more of this and I don’t want any of your friends wandering this way either.”

“I don’t have any friends. I don’t have any family. I’m just me.”

He scoffs, “Sure, kid.”

“I’m also not a kid. I’m 24 years old and I’m hungry and my ankle hurts and why do you even have this hole anyway?!” You notice yourself turning hysterical but you don’t even care. You’re unarmed and you’re hungry and you’re all alone for the first time in a very, very long time. This man holds all of the power to help you and you’re not going to give up until he does.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but when he does it’s in the form of him reaching down into his utility belt and pulling out a rope, and throwing you the other end. “You get one meal.”

You didn’t even know a meal was on the table, so you hobbled your way behind him as fast as you could. You ended up at a white, well-kept house behind an industrial strength gate. “How the hell did you find this place?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making you worried that you said the wrong thing somehow. Finally, when you’ve reached the front door, he huffs “It belonged to a friend.”

================================================

Part 2: The Fall, 6 Months Ago

That one meal turned into two days which turned into a week which turned a month which turned into six. You owe most of your thanks to Joel’s 14-year-old companion (contraband?), Ellie. She was instrumental in convincing Joel to allow for you to stay. If it weren’t for her, the first dinner would have easily been your last. But she was so taken with you and excited to have another girl let alone someone under 30 hanging out with them. Not that she didn’t adore Joel, or him her in his own little ways. But you were just such a breath of fresh air to her that Joel couldn’t help but allow for you to stay.

Your role in their little group wasn’t quite clear. Joel did all of the hunting and patrolling necessary to keep this little slice of paradise exactly that, paradise. Ellie’s only job was to stay safe, and you decided to pick up the slack wherever you could. Dishes, clothing repairs, cooking dinner. Ellie didn’t need a nanny by any means, but you basically became a live-in housewife. With none of the perks, despite your daydreaming.

The last six months had been tumultuous for you to say the least. The presence of Joel constantly by your side made a lot of things very difficult. Like focusing, or keeping the weakness out of your knees, or the heat out of your dreams. He was hot, there was no denying it. If he hadn’t been waving a gun in your face the moment you met, it probably wouldn’t have taken you until the end of your first dinner to realize this. But not only was he hot, he was stoic. He was still and firm, a guiding light in this uncertain world you and Ellie both came of age in. He had a cold exterior, but judging by the way he treated Ellie, and eventually you, you knew there was some warmth bubbling beneath the surface. You knew he carried immeasurable hurt on his back, Ellie had told you about his daughter, Tess, Bill and Frank, and that was only the things Ellie knew. Who knew what was in the even further past of this sturdy man. The big, beautiful, brooding man who took care of you and Ellie despite his best instincts.

You had only very recently gotten over your sprained ankle, taking a full 12 weeks to heal from the severe sprain. This was another saving grace for you in the beginning. Joel liked to pretend that he was heartless, but he still didn’t have the heart to send you on your merry way with only ¼ of your appendages working to their full capacity. He tried to kick you out after your first dinner despite Ellie’s whining, only to be able to only stomach three of your hobbling paces out the door.

“Oh for God’s sake get back in here why don’t ‘ya,” You remember him sighing.

He took such good care of your ankle, at night when you’re all alone you can still feel the way his calloused fingertips massing you so gently. The hard with the soft; the essence of Joel Miller.

“Does this hurt?” He asked four weeks in, as you sat for your nightly ankle exam. Starting your very first night, after dinner he would take your foot into his lap and exam it and massage it carefully for upwards of 15 minutes. You weren’t a doctor, but you knew enough to know that a nightly exam was excessive and unnecessary. But even at the very beginning you knew this was his way of showing you that he cared, that he wanted you safe. It was around this time that you realized that Joel had a soft spot for stragglers, for the outcasts who just needed somebody. Between you and Ellie, that much was clear, and it just made you fall faster for him than you thought possible.

This realization and the true weight of it didn’t come to a head until one day where you decided to go out and try and collect some berries from the woods on the other side of the gate for a pie you wanted to make Joel for his birthday. You had seen him do it a million times, you thought you could get away with it. Until you heard that sound.

Everything was fine, you had collected your blueberries and you were on your way, and then you heard it. You hear it before you see it, but soon enough you see it all the same. You had your gun with you, but your reaction time was nowhere near as fast as Joel’s was. The clicker starts stalking your way when you lose yourself to your impulses and just start running. You know better than to scream, but you get close. You run and you run and you’re looking back to make sure you’re not going to get caught when you smack into something six foot and massive. Joel’s chest. After you make eye contact you look up and make eye contact with him. He’s silently fuming, fists white knuckling around his gun.

You go to speak when he stops you, “Don’t.” He whispers right before he shoots the clicker dead with no hesitation or struggle. The walk back to the house is silent, and not because he’s afraid of being found by the clickers.

The slam of the front door is the first sound you’ve heard in minutes. He whips around and you swear you can see smoke coming out of his ears. “What the hell was that?!”

“I-” You start.

“You know what? I don’t want to know. I can’t hear from you right now.”

You say nothing.

“That was so completely careless! Do you not understand how we do things around here? You stay, I go. It’s as simple as that.” He’s pacing at this point, waving his hands wildly as he works through his anger with you. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

You pause, “I thought you didn’t want to hear from me.”

He stops pacing and looks at you, “Ha ha ha very funny. You’re a real smartass, you know that? If I hadn’t been there God knows what would have happened. You could have gotten killed!”

You look down at your feet, trying to hold back tears before you look back up. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

He sighs, physically decompressing. “Well you went about it all the wrong way. I don’t need anything nice from you, you do enough around the house and with Ellie anyway,” He pauses, “I don’t know what I would have done with myself if you had gotten hurt.” He says this last part in a whisper under his breath, barely able to look at you.

“But it’s your birthday!” You choke out a sob. You’re so mad at yourself for putting yourself in danger and upsetting the man who saved your life six months ago.

“What? No it’s not.” He says, confused.

Then, a lightbulb goes off for both of you as your jaws drop and you yell in unison, “ELLIE!”

Turns out, Ellie just wanted some pie.

================================================

Part 3: The Catch, Present Day

A lot can change in six months. But also, a lot can stay the same. You’ve grown very accustomed to the life you live here, in this big beautiful house, with your small makeshift family. Ellie is 17 now and makes Joel take her on test drives in Bill’s old truck around town. Joel has definitely gotten used to having you around, and even converted Frank’s old studio into a bedroom for you a couple of months ago. A real upgrade from living on the couch for the first eight months.

Life is pretty standard, all things considered. You’ve heard more stories about the men who ran the house before you and you think they’d be happy to have people like you living a life like this in the home they built together. It’s a beautiful thing, to have some normalcy in a world fallen apart.

You spend a lot of time with Ellie, who has developed a crush on one of the QZ traders. She’s tall and lean and tougher than all hell, you can see what Ellie sees in her even if you’re personally afraid of her. This realization on Ellie’s part has prompted a lot of impromptu sleepovers in your art studio turned bedroom, almost all of which are ended by Joel standing in the doorway going on about keeping quiet out of respect for your elders. You have to remind him every time that you too are an elder.

It’s also the summer time which means there’s lots to do outside. You never really learned how to tend to a garden so Joel’s been teaching you how to take care of the one Frank started all those years ago. You two keep it up with the seeds you get from trading with those select few still at the QZ, and it’s been a really special time between the two of you. It also doesn’t hurt that he prefers to work in the garden shirtless.

“Hello? Hello? Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”

You snap out of the trance you were in from watching him hoe or row or whatever it is he’s doing with that gardening tool that makes his arms and back look like that. “What? Sorry, I zoned out.”

“You’re never going to learn if you keep daydreamin’ like that.” He gruffs before starting his spiel on strawberries all over again.

You really can’t get a read on him. Sometimes he treats you as an equal, someone who has a shared interest in their work and in the safety of Ellie, but other times he treats you like you’re a toddler that can’t help but knock their head on the corner of a coffee table. He claims it’s because he doesn’t want you hurt, which you admit gives you butterflies, but if anything between you is ever going to transpire (like you desperately need it to), he can’t see you as just some kid. You’re turning 25 next week, dammit. You deserve some respect. But you’re just not sure how to get it, how to make him see you as a true equal. Someone he can rely on, put his faith into, and even care about on a deeper level.

The opportunity of a lifetime presents itself one day in the form of something actually rather unfortunate. Joel finally gets hurt.

It’s a pretty normal day until then. You and Ellie practice driving, you journal, listen to some old records. It’s too hot to spend too much time outside, but you definitely make sure to check on the strawberries considering the lecture you got from Joel last week. It’s midafternoon when he comes straggling in, clutching his left arm in his hand and seething through the pain.

You immediately jump up from the couch, “Oh my God, what happened?”

He sinks down on the chair next to the piano, not looking at you. “Nothing, just go get the first aid kit.”

That answer is nowhere near good enough, but you go and get it anyway. Ellie is out in the backyard and doesn’t hear the commotion. When you return with the first aid kit you press on, “You have to tell me what happened so I can know how to treat you.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat as you kneel in front of him, opening the kit. “It’s nothing, just gonna need a couple stitches.”

You pry his right hand off his arm and see a deep gash on the bottom of his forearm. It’s not too long, but it sure is deep. “Jesus Joel, what the hell happened?”

He shifts and sighs once more, whispering something under his breath that you can barely hear.

“What was that?” You ask earnestly.

He whispers again, slightly louder this time, but he’s talking too fast to make out what he said.

“Joel, come on. What happened?” You’re tending to his wound now anyway, but you really do need to know.

He sighs, bringing his free hand up to pinch between his eyes. Avoiding eye contact with you he finally says, “I was walking back from trading when I saw a flower. I wanted to get that flower for you for your birthday. With my shears in one hand, I leaned down to get it, and I lost my balance and I tripped and I fell on top of the shears and they stabbed me.” He pauses, “There, you happy? Now that I’ve humiliated myself…” He trails off.

You’re too stunned to speak. You just keep staring at him, unmoving.

“If you’re not going to fix this up, give me the kit so I can do it myself,” He huffs at you.

You swallow and smile at him, trying to find the words. “Joel Miller, you secret softie. You maimed yourself in the pursuit of trying to do something nice for me, the girl you claim not to want around.”

He locks eyes with you for the first time during this conversation, “I never claimed that.”

Silence hangs in the air for a moment until you clear your throat and turn your attention to the wound at hand (or should you say, at arm?). “Let’s get this stitched up, ok?”

“If Ellie asks, tell her I did something super manly and tough to get these stitches, ok?”

You let out a laugh and nod, “Sir, yes sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been three days since Joel hurt himself trying to do something nice for you and it has not left your mind even for a moment. You’re laying in bed wide awake, tossing and turning wondering what this could mean. I never claimed that he said so earnestly to you. I never claimed that. The four words echo in your brain like a megaphone. It’s been torture being around him as if nothing has changed. As if you haven’t changed on a molecular level after those four words rearranged every fiber of your being. It may be nothing, but it also could be something. It could be the that takes what you’ve been craving for almost a year to leave your daydreams and become a reality. Maybe he meant it in a friendly way, maybe even in reference to your working relationship of raising Ellie and keeping her safe. But if that were the case, why did it feel like all of the air in the room stood still? Why did he look to you like he was a puzzle that only you could solve?

Cordiality be damned, you had to know the answer.

You sneak out of bed and up the stairs, careful not to wake Ellie in her room on the first floor. Joel may be modest, but he still took the primary bedroom upstairs when they moved in. You avoid the creaking steps up the stairs artfully and end up at his door. It is only at this point you realize how crazy this is. You’re standing outside his door in the middle of the night with no plan and, frankly, no pants on. This is a recipe for disaster that you’ve quickly talked yourself out of. You go to turn around when the door swings open, Joel looking alert. His body visibly relaxes when he sees that it’s just you, and then tenses once more as his eyes trail down our body to the long length of your bare legs.

“What are you-” “Sorry I was just-” You say at the same time.

You laugh, trying to break the tension. “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

“What are you doing up here, Y/N?” His body was pressed up against the side of the doorway, blocking it almost entirely with his broad stature. Shoulders resting on the side of the doorway, arms and feet crossed, he looked in no hurry to get you out of there.

“It doesn’t really matter, I answered my own question. I’ll just head back downstairs,” You go to walk away when he grabs your arm lightly, turning you back to face him.

“Must’ve been some curiosity if it’s keeping you up at night.” You’ve never heard him talk like this. Not just the words he was saying but how he was saying them, they were smooth and slow and rich like molasses. It instantly made your mouth dry up and your knees weaker.

“I um, I was just wondering-”

“Yes?” He prompted, his hand still on your arm. Had he ever touched you before this? Surely you would have remembered the heat.

You look him in the eyes and see a glint, even in the darkness. This spark of something gives you the courage to move along. “I was just wondering what you meant by saying you never claimed you didn’t want me around.”

His hand drops from your arm and the heat is replaced by an instant rush of cold in his absence. He looks away from you and doesn’t speak.

Fearing you said the wrong thing you cower and turn to walk away once more. How could you have been so stupid? This isn’t just a matter of personal politics, this is a matter of survival. You have no one besides Joel and Ellie and if you get kicked out for bringing feelings into what is a basic need for shelter, food, and water, you will never forgive yourself.

You’re almost to the stairs when you hear him rumble, “I just meant that I have always wanted you around.” You whip around and see him looking at you, his gaze trailing down your body and then all the way back up again. “I want you here. Always have.”

Not moving towards him you speak, “Then why do you act like I’m some sort of helpless child? Why do I not have any real responsibilities? I could be out there, with you, trading and gathering intel. But instead I get, what, strawberries?”

“You don’t get it.” He looks down and shakes his head.

You walk back over to him, softly, so as not to spook him again. “Then help me understand.”

He looks at you with a softer gaze this time, “I keep you here, away from all of that, because I can’t risk you getting hurt,” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “It would kill me.”

You’re stunned. “Joel,” You start before he lifts a hand and cuts you off.

“And I give you things like strawberries because I want you to have a chance at a good life, a simple life. One I can’t promise you forever but can promise you for right now. One I know you don’t even remember having.”

Your heart is beating immeasurably fast inside your chest. You never considered that these menial tasks were actually normal, and good. Cleaning up after dinner, growing strawberries, talking about crushes with Ellie. In the midst of wanting to prove yourself, you completely forgot to take stock of all that Joel had given you already. All the things people dream about in this day and age.

You reach a hand up to touch his face, “Thank you. Thank you for giving me something good,” You pause, “I wish I could give you something good in return.”

He leans his head into your hand and closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. He turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand, “You are my something good,” he says so low you almost miss it.

But you don’t miss it. You hear it loud and clear. You hear him loud and clear for probably the first time since you’ve met him. He is stoic and strong and brooding and brave, but he is also caring and thoughtful and safe. He is the hard with the soft, and he’s been giving you both all this time right under your nose.

You decide to do something risky. You lean in for a kiss. You put your hopes for survival at the back of your mind and for the first time in forever you prioritize living.

It doesn’t take more than two seconds for Joel to pick up on what you’re doing and reciprocate. His arms immediately move from crossed over his chest to around your waist, pulling you deeper into the kiss. He pulls you so deep you cross the threshold of his bedroom, kicking the door shut on your way in.

“Be quiet or you’ll wake Ellie!” You half scold, half giggle as you make your way towards the bed.

“Sorry!” He giggles back. Joel Miller. The Joel Miller giggled into your lips. You could hardly believe your ears.

If his words were like molasses, his kiss was just as sweet. Not too pushy, but with enough force to let you know that he was in charge. He guides you to the mattress with his body and his mouth, making you feel like you’re flying. You’re sprawled out with your legs over the edge of the bed when he finally pulls away and stands before you.

You look up at him with hooded eyes and heavy breaths, “Why’d you stop?”

He runs his hands through his hair, “I just never want to forget this.” And he dives back down to you, not giving you a moment to respond.

When he comes back his kiss is still sweet, but with a heat you’ve never experienced before. Granted, all of your past experiences were minimal, probably in the back of an abandoned, decaying car, and in the midst of an apocalypse, but you knew enough to know that it didn’t normally feel like this.

You part your legs so he can insert his body between them, propping his arms on either side of your head as he kisses you deeply. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you, needing as much of him on you as possible.

“Somebody’s eager, huh?” He asks you between kisses.

Your resolve is officially broken, you’re laying it all out on the table. “You just have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

He pulls back to look at you, “Oh, I think I have an idea. You tend to have a staring problem, darlin’”

Your face flushes instantly. He lowers his lips to your ears and whispers, “I do too, I’m just a little more subtle with it.” He places kisses on your neck and then trails back up to your ear, “Your body drives me crazy, baby.”

Suddenly his hands are everywhere. One is up by your head so he keeps his balance while the other is trailing up and down your chest, your stomach, your neck. He’s everywhere all at once and it still isn’t enough. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist so you buck up to create even more friction than there already was.

“Easy there, baby, I’ve been waiting an awful long time for this, I want to take it slow with you. Gotta treat you right.” He pins your waist down to the mattress with one hand. “Let me take care of you, baby.” His look is so sincere all you can do is nod. “Good girl.”

With that, he takes his hand pinning you down and runs the tips of his fingertips along the waistline of your underwear, teasing you. You whine.

“Patience baby,” A kiss on the cheek, “It will be worth it, I promise,” A kiss on the other cheek. Then his fingers are tugging them down inch by inch until you’re completely bare to him from the waist down. “So pretty,” He says, almost to himself.

Before you have time to acknowledge what he’s said, the same gentle fingertips that were teasing you a moment ago land on your most sensitive spot, creating a feeling of pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever known. Your body somehow tenses and melts into the mattress at once as he works you slowly but surely.

“How does that feel, baby?” His voice is rough around the edges but soft at its center, he genuinely wants to gauge your reaction, as if your whines and body language weren’t enough.

“Itfeelssogood” You slur out, hands gripping the sheets on either side of you.

He kisses your neck, “Good. Now,” He moves his finger to your center and thrusts it in, moving his thumb back to your clit. “How does that feel?”

He’s working you up so good, you feel like you’re floating. His pace is the perfect mix between rough and conscious, never taking his eyes off you for even a second. You can tell he’s loving this as much as you are, and not just because you can feel his erection through his boxers.

You moan as he works you before answering, “Joel it feels so good.”

“Such a good girl for me, so wet and ready. Is this what you were thinking about when you couldn’t sleep?” He whispers in your ear as he picks up the pace.

You can feel something building deep inside of you, something you haven’t felt in a long time, and never at this magnitude. It’s coming on strong and fast, you can almost reach it. “Yes, this is what I was thinking about. I was thinking about your hands on me.”

“Mmmm that’s what I like to hear baby, what else were you thinking about?” He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his boxers, “Were you thinking about this?”

You moan and nod your head, he’s continuing to pick up his pace and you’re getting closer and closer.

“I want you to cum for me, gorgeous. Please cum for me.”

You throw your head back and moan again, “I want to cum for you.”

“Just focus on how good it feels baby, you’re so close I can feel it. Be a good girl for me.”

And just like magic, you’re there. It hits you like a freight train and your whole body is consumed. You’re tensing and writhing and it definitely isn’t normally like this, but you’re just so overcome with emotions for this man and pleasure and all of the things that drive a girl crazy.

He coaxes you through it with lots of reassurances and hair pets, and then finally you’ve come down. “Thank you,” You say as he brushes some hair out of your face.

“Don’t thank me yet darlin’, I’m not done with you yet.” And with that, he hauls your body up to the head of the bed, making sure your head is all settled on the pillows. He sits back on his knees and takes off his shirt, nodding at you to do the same. You’re left completely bare and he in his boxers alone. You’re mesmerized by his body. Age normally should have broken him down, but for him he seems to have only been built up. You had seen him in the garden but this, this was something entirely different. He was raw here, with you.

“This is what I meant by you needing to be more subtle. You don’t need to undress me with your eyes, baby, you just gotta ask.” He stands up and drops his boxers, revealing himself to you fully for the first time. He’s big. Like, real big. And thick. You don’t let yourself dwell on the mechanics for more than a moment, but you do wonder how it’s going to fit.

He gets back in bed and hovers over you once more, “Are you sure about this? We can stop at any time.”

You nod your head, “I’m sure. Never been more sure about anything, actually.”

He gives you one more kiss, a firm one with the promise of a good time. You run your fingers through his hair and tug slightly. He moans into your mouth. “You sure are an eager one, aren’tcha?”

He grabs his member and lines it up with your center, teasing you slightly. You wince at the sensitivity from your previous orgasm. “You ok?” He asks gently.

“Yeah, just a little sensitive. But I’m ready. Please fuck me, Joel.” The words even surprise yourself as you say them. You’re not the best at being direct about what you want, but right now all you can do is rely on pure instinct.

He chuckles darkly before lining himself up once again, “Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he’s fucking you. Long, hard strokes that never feel like too much too fast. Just right. You feel the fullness of him immediately and it’s so divine you can’t help but arch into him and moan. Your fingers fly back into his hair as he thrusts into you with such precision, he hits your G-spot every time.

“Is that good for you, baby? Tell me how it feels.” He grunts as he pounds into you expertly.

“I love it, baby. I love it,” You’re breathless as you try to find the words to describe the way he’s making you feel.

He takes one of your legs and rests your ankle on his shoulder, opening you up even more than you thought possible and deepening the angle of his already deep thrusts. You try not to scream, so you grab a pillow and put it over your face.

He rips it off almost immediately, “Oh no, sweetheart. No hiding from me. I want to see your pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.”

You’re so incoherent you can’t even respond to his filthy words. You just moan in response and grab the sheets on either side of you.

He changes his pace a couple of times, switching from slow and long to fast and shallow, but it never feels out of place or off rhythm. He is just somehow so in tune with your body that he knows exactly what you need when you need it.

You’re whining and moaning when he lowers your leg and gets his face up next to yours. His hand moves down to your clit and he starts massaging it while he continues to thrust into you. “You’ve been such a good girl tonight baby,” He says through his own labored breathing. “Coming up here in your little panties practically begging to get fucked. Such a good girl.” You moan so loud he covers your mouth with his other hand, “I love hearing those moans baby but you gotta keep it quiet if you want me to keep going. And I know you want me to keep going.”

You nod and he removes his hand from your mouth and sits back again, watching you from above. “Play with your tits while I make you cum.” You do as you're told, loving the feeling of his eyes fixed on you while you do exactly what he says.

Once again, you feel something building inside of you. The combination of him inside you, his fingers working their magic, and his eyes on you makes it nearly impossible to resist the feelings as they come on strong.

“I’m gonna cum,” You whine.

“Do it baby, cum for me” He picks up his pace and you can tell he’s getting close himself, can tell he’s chasing something.

It only takes a couple more seconds before you finish in an explosion of pleasure. You’re so out of it as you come down you barely register him pulling out and grabbing a tissue from the side table. What a gentleman.

You’re both laying there in silence when the gravity of what just happened finally hits you. You just had sex with the one person that stands between you and certain death. This could ruin everything. You move to get up and go back to your room when you feel an arm on you, pulling you back down.

“Stay,” He pauses, “Please stay with me.”

You smile softly at him and lay back down, but this time he wraps you up in his arms and spoons you. You can feel his breathing on the back of your neck and his calluses on your arms as he holds you. He starts tracing little circles on your skin with his thumb while he hums.

“That was amazing,” You say, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah, um, sorry if I came on too strong,” He pauses, “Haven’t done that in awhile.”

You turn around to face him and you rest a palm on his cheek, “It was perfect. You were perfect. I um, I just hope this doesn’t change anything?” You nervously finish.

He looks startled. He quits rubbing circles on your skin and moves back. “Yeah, no. No, it doesn't have to change anything.”

Clearly, you’ve struck a chord and you don’t know why or how. But you do know that you need to fix it.

“I just, I know we’re in a precarious situation and I don’t want you to feel like our relationship has changed at all.” You begin.

He sits up fully with his back against the headboard, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Joel?” You join him up against the headboard, covering yourself with the blanket.

He sighs but doesn’t look at you, “If I had thought everything would stay the same I wouldn’t have done what I just did. I wouldn’t have opened the door and I certainly wouldn’t have let you in.”

You’re stunned and you’re scared, having no idea what he’s talking about. “What are you saying?”

Finally, he looks at you. “Dammit Y/N what if I want things to change?” He doesn’t raise his voice at all, but his tone is stern enough to send you aback.

“What?”

Another sigh, “What if I want things to change? What if I want somebody who is going to be there for me at the end of the day in my bed? This world isn’t permanent and I can’t promise you forever but I can promise you for now. For now, I want this. For now, I want you. And I’m gonna keep wanting you until the thing that stands in the way of me and death itself disappears.” He pauses, “So yeah, maybe you don’t want things to change but I do. Sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear.” He looks away from you again.

“Joel, I-”

“I don’t want your pity. I get it, I’m just some old man with a 17 year old basket case trailing behind me and you’re young and beautiful and just had an itch to scratch. We’ll continue with business as usual in the morning. Good night.” He flips over onto his side away from you.

You huff. This is ridiculous, you think to yourself. You tap him on the shoulder.

“You should probably go back to your room, Y/N.”

You tap him on the shoulder again.

He flips around to look at you, “What more could you possibly want from me?”

You cross your arms over your blanket covered chest, “What makes you think I wanted things to stay the same?”

“Gee, I don’t know, probably the part where you said ‘things don’t have to change’?” He says sarcastically as he sits back up to face you. “Wonder where I got that crazy idea.”

“I was just saying that in case you didn’t want anything to change! I’m totally at your mercy with everything, including my survival here, so sorry for being cautious.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his mouth does fall open in shock a little bit.

“Joel, trust me when I say I’m not taking pity on you when I say I want this too. I can’t promise you forever but I can promise you for now, and for tomorrow, and for the next day and the day after that. I choose you and I choose Ellie and I want this. I want you. I want to be the one that is there for you at the end of the day.” You smile at him and grab his hand, “You’re my good thing too.”

His face softens and he grabs your joined hands with his other one and leans over to kiss you on the cheek. You lean into it and giggle as he begins peppering a bunch of kisses all over your face. The hard with the soft, that’s Joel Miller.

“Let’s go to bed, shall we?” You ask him as he leans over you, caressing your face.

“Yeah, let’s go to bed.” He gives you one last kiss on the cheek and spoons you once more.

That night you dream of strawberries. Just fields and fields of strawberries.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel last of us #joel last of us smut

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scary-grace · 11 months ago

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Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 20) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Chapter 20

“Sorry about the clothes,” Spinner says as the two of you walk down the front steps of the hospital. “Himiko picked them out.”

“It’s fine,” you say. As long as you have clothes that aren’t bloodstained and torn to pieces, you don’t care what you look like. You’re just glad to be headed home.

Nobody exited the near-apocalyptic conjurer fight in good shape, but some of you were worse off than the others. Nemuri was almost blasted apart trying to defeat the giant, and although she survived it, collecting the shreds of her essence back together is apparently a slow process. Keigo took a pretty sizeable hit protecting the kids, while Aizawa had to deal with a beastlike Nomu chewing the hell out of his leg before Hizashi blew its head off. But you and Tomura were by far the worse off. You’ve been in the hospital for two days. Tomura will be in for another three at least.

Most ghosts are healthy when they permanently embody themselves, but apparently it’s different for ghosts who use their own conjurers to do it. Tomura is starvation-level thin, with severe contact allergies to almost every type of medical equipment in the hospital, and the injuries he got from the fight and the rescue from the world between were bad enough to land him in the ICU at least temporarily. They had to put him in an induced coma, too. He’s had meltdowns or panic attacks or some kind of fit every time he’s woken up.

“He’ll bounce back quickly,” Mr. Yagi assured you when he came to visit. “I did.”

That was how you learned that Mr. Yagi embodied himself from his conjurer, too – except she gave him permission to do it, when she realized she was going to die of cancer anyway. Mr. Yagi’s permanent embodiment involves chronic issues with his lungs and his stomach, all of which you’re familiar with after working as his assistant for years. Chronic, but manageable. Sometimes over the past two days, it’s seemed like Tomura’s allergic to the entire human world.

Spinner told you that permanent embodiment creates complications, but you didn’t realize just how severe those complications would be. There’s no legal record of Tomura’s existence. He doesn’t have ID or health records or health insurance. There’s no next of kin who’s empowered to make decisions for him while he’s under heavy sedation, dead to the world. Hizashi’s working overtime to forge some kind of documentation for him. The doctors have been hinting that they won’t release him without it. Legally, you don’t have any right to be involved in or updated on Tomura’s medical condition, but he managed to identify you as somebody important before he went under, which means you get a little more information than you would have gotten otherwise. The doctors have been referring to you as his girlfriend. Apparently he called you his human.

Tomura might not have a next of kin, you do, and the doctors called your parents when you were too doped up on painkillers to stop them. You managed to talk them down from coming to visit, mostly by lying and then promising that they can come visit you soon. The last thing you need is for them to come here right now. Things are too chaotic. It’s hard to think that anything normal will ever happen again.

Like today. Jin and Spinner are picking you up from the hospital and driving you home to a house that, for the first time since it was built, doesn’t have a ghost in it.

When you and Spinner make it down the steps, Jin’s idling the van near the curb with Atsuhiro snoozing in the back row. Jin bursts out laughing at the sight of you, ignoring Spinner hissing at him to shut up. “No wonder Himiko wouldn’t let me see what she picked! Ready to get out of here?”

“Yes.” That’s not quite true, though. The sharp pain in your chest as the hospital vanishes around a curve in the highway tells you that you’d rather have stayed until Tomura could come with you.

You’ve been there, the few times they’ve tried waking him up. He’s promptly freaked out each time, and while your presence settles him a bit, the fact that he’s now in a human body, experiencing the world as a human does, is way more than you can calm him down from. Luckily for you and Tomura, the embodied ghosts stepped in to help. Since last night, there’s been one of them stationed in his room at all times, ready to corral him, ready to explain, so nothing else in his hospital room goes up in dust. Tomura lost a lot of his ghostly powers, but he’s still got more than enough left to raise hell.

You don’t want to leave him there. You want to stay there until he wakes up for good, and not leave until you can bring him home. But your health insurance won’t pay for more than the two nights you already spent in the hospital, and you have a bad feeling about who’s going to be on the hook for Tomura’s hospital bill. You have to go home. You’ll be back to visit tomorrow after work, but tonight you have to go home.

“How did he look?” Spinner asks Jin. Spinner came to get you, while Jin brought Magne for her shift in Tomura’s room. “You saw him, right?”

“He looks like hell.”

“He looks like he’s looked the entire time,” Atsuhiro says sleepily from the back row. Then, to you: “They mentioned removing the feeding tube in two days. His body is burning calories rapidly, and if he doesn’t have enough in reserve, he’ll have a heart attack when he starts moving around.”

“Great,” you mumble. “Did he wake up at all?”

“Not perceptibly to the staff,” Atsuhiro says. Ghost stuff. Again. “I was able to tell him that you were being released today.”

You sort of wish Atsuhiro hadn’t done that. Tomura’s going to think you’re leaving him, and based on the conversation you had the day before things went to hell, he didn’t want to embody himself for anything less than a sure thing. You’re a sure thing. About as sure as it gets, given that you were ready to get sucked into the world between along with him rather than let him go. But he’s not going to know that until the two of you talk. And you can’t talk to him while he’s got a feeding tube down his throat.

When you left the neighborhood three nights ago, you left it in the back of an ambulance, so you didn’t get a good look at everything that happened. Now it’s daylight, and what you see isn’t pretty. A weird fog still hovers over everything. Almost every plant on the block is dead, courtesy of being flash-frozen a dozen times over, and the pavement and asphalt on your end of the street is pitted and ruptured and cracked, courtesy of the giant. Nobody’s house escaped getting knocked around a bit, but you know yours took the largest amount of damage – window smashed, porch roof caved in, fence down, yard chewed to bits – so when you get out of the car and make your way closer for a look, you’re expecting the worst.

What you’re not expecting to see is a new fence, in the process of being painted greyish blue. You’re not expecting to see Himiko and a girl you vaguely remember meeting at her birthday party painting it. And you’re definitely not expecting Izuku to pop out of absolutely nowhere, hands smeared with dirt. “Hey, you’re back! Are you okay?”

He waits long enough for you to confirm you’re not about to keel over, then pivots. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“We already told you what happened,” Spinner says. “Don’t bug her.”

“You did tell me! It was great,” Izuku says. He refocuses on you. “But you spent the most time with the conjurer, didn’t you? And you got away from him! How did you do it?”

It occurs to you, sort of suddenly, that you haven’t told anybody exactly what happened. Everybody’s clear on the important details – kidnapped by conjurer, tortured by conjurer with the intent of Nomufication, escaped, rescued by what Jin inexplicably decided to call the Vanguard Action Squad. Nobody’s asked you more until you right now. And you should probably tell somebody, just to get it on the record. “Um, it was –”

“Izuku! Leave her be,” Inko scolds, stepping out onto your front porch. You should have guessed that at least one of Izuku’s parents would be present, but you’re still surprised to see her. “I’m sorry to startle you. We were hoping to be gone by the time you got back so you’d have a quiet house.”

A quiet house. A house without Tomura in it. “It’s okay. Um – why are you here?”

“We’re helping patch things up,” Izuku says. “I’m filling in the footprints in the yard – Toga says there was a huge Nomu here – like, building-sized –”

“Bigger,” Himiko says. She looks over at the other girl, who looks worried. “I didn’t fight that one. I did lots of other fighting.”

“And Toga and Uraraka are fixing the fence,” Izuku continues. You forgot that Himiko picked out a different last name than Jin’s when she embodied herself. You’re not sure why. “Mom was keeping an eye on the guys who came to fix the window and the roof and Dad and Kacchan are in the backyard clearing out your dead plants! There are a lot of them. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do it.” You step through the gate, barely avoiding putting your hand in wet paint. “The fence looks really nice, Himiko. You guys didn’t have to do this.”

“The old fence matched Tomura’s new hair. We had to fix it,” Himiko explains. “Now it matches his old hair.”

“He has new hair?” Uraraka asks.

“Yeah, it’s white now. He looks like an anime villain,” Spinner says, and Himiko giggles. “I didn’t know your fence was supposed to match your hair.”

“It’s not. That’s why we’re fixing it.”

“Thank you,” you say to Himiko and her friend. “And – thanks, Izuku. I’ll tell you about all the stuff later.”

He beams at you, then goes back to filling in a massive hole in your yard. You thank Spinner and Jin for the ride home, and Atsuhiro for sitting with Tomura, then make your way into your house. The last time you were here, you could barely walk. You were oozing blood everywhere and you were in agony, but you remember seeing Tomura on the porch and stumbling into his arms and feeling for just a moment like everything would be okay. Everything is okay. But just like Aizawa said of you being turned into a Nomu, this came at a cost – and you weren’t the one to pay.

There are a few bloodstains on the front porch steps. You collect some varnish from your hall closet and come back out to paint them over.

“My dear.” Mr. Yagi’s feet appear in your field of vision and you look up at him. He looks miserable, his mouth trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were taken from the parking lot. I knew the conjurer could be near. I knew you were in danger. And instead of ensuring your safety I allowed you to –”

“You weren’t responsible for my safety. I was,” you say. You’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped the conjurer. If he hadn’t grabbed you from the parking lot before work, he would have grabbed you when you went outside on your lunch break or when you headed home. “The bracelets you gave me helped me get away from him. I wouldn’t have escaped without them.”

Mr. Yagi looks surprised. “Is that so?”

“When he noticed them, he broke one. It released all this energy and threw him across the room. That’s how I got out. And me and the ghost who helped me escape used the other one to blow up the building we were in.”

“My master must have known he would break them,” Mr. Yagi says. He smiles slightly, sadly. “She was a master tactician. And speaking of her – I suppose it’s no longer relevant, but I brought over the notes Izuku and I took from her journals, if you’d still like to read them.”

“I’d like to.” You’ll need something to do tonight, when you’re here all alone for the first time. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit together on the steps until the varnish dries and the smell of food begins to drift out of the kitchen. You go to investigate and find that Inko’s turned your kitchen into some kind of industrial cooking facility. “This is for tonight,” she says, gesturing to a pot simmering on your stove. “I’ve made things for the next four days also. The list on the counter is a list of common food sensitivities, in case Tomura picked up anything during his embodiment. And if you have any questions about anything, please call me.”

You feel a lump growing in your throat, making it hard to swallow. “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Inko says. She smiles at you. “I would have liked someone to talk to, when it was me.”

You nod a few times, manage to thank her. Then you excuse yourself to the bathroom, so she won’t see you struggling not to cry.

You’re not sure why you’re so miserable, why it’s so hard for you to hold it together as everyone heads home for the evening. The only thing that helps even slightly is when Phantom comes home, brought over by Shinsou and Hizashi, who’ve been keeping an eye on her for you. She’s so happy to see you that she leaps a full three feet off the ground and knocks you over, which hurts. You hug her close even though you can tell she’s dying to zoom ecstatically around the house and look up at Shinsou and Hizashi from the floor. “Thanks for looking out for her. I owe you.”

“That’s the closest I’m gonna get to getting a dog until I move out. It’s great,” Shinsou says. Aizawa and Eri are committed cat people, but Shinsou’s said multiple times that he likes both. “So you got out of the hospital. Are you, like – good?”

“Great,” you say. It’s a good thing you and Shinsou aren’t ghosts, because if you were, you wouldn’t have a prayer of getting away with the lie. “It’s nice to be home.”

Hizashi nods impatiently as you pick yourself up off the ground and Phantom goes tearing off to inspect the house, Shinsou in hot pursuit. He has a folder tucked under one arm, and he holds it out to you. “Here. ID and birth certificate for him. I’m working on the rest.”

The ID is right on top, complete with a photo. “How’d you get a photo of him?”

“Took it in the hospital. Fixing the background and photoshopping his eyes open was a bitch.” Hizashi looks pretty proud of himself anyway. “I made him the same age as you. He looks it at least. The birthday is an approximation of his summoning date. I couldn’t use his embodiment date. I didn’t want the doctors asking too many questions about how he had the worst birthday ever.”

“Thanks.” You inspect everything a little closer, then nearly drop the folder in shock. “Shigaraki Tomura? You gave him his conjurer’s last name?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else,” Hizashi says. “It flows pretty nicely, right?”

You guess it does, except for the part where you’re going to think of the conjurer every time you use Tomura’s new full name. “Thank you,” you say again, uselessly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t helped.”

Hizashi looks as uncomfortable being thanked by you as you are doing the thanking. “Don’t worry about it. His shit’s a lot easier to forge than the Nomus’.”

Shinsou and Hizashi stick around for a little longer, checking out the repairs and marveling at all the food Inko cooked, then head home. You shut and lock the door behind them, and all at once you’re home alone. Just you and Phantom, like you thought it would be when you bought this place. Phantom is wandering from room to room, greeting you when she passes by but very much looking for something. Looking for Tomura.

“He’ll be home soon,” you promise her. She knows who you’re talking about. She whines. “I miss him, too.”

You feel aimless, and you feel sick. You should probably eat something. You fill a bowl from the pot Inko left on the stove and settle in on the couch to pick at it, staring at nothing if you’re not looking into the bowl itself. It tastes good, but you’ve got no desire to eat it. You eat it anyway. If you’re going to be miserable no matter what, you might as well do it on a full stomach.

Part of you thinks it’s normal to feel wrecked after everything that’s happened. You were kidnapped and tortured. You watched your ghost die in front of you nineteen times. You almost got force-fed a ghost and almost turned into a Nomu and almost watched your house be destroyed and almost killed somebody and almost lost your ghost to the world between. Only a crazy person wouldn’t be upset. But at the same time, it’s a whole lot of almost. It could have been so much worse. It almost was. What is there for you to be upset about?

Your phone rings and you pick it up just for somebody to talk to. It’s your mom. “When I called the hospital they said you’d been discharged today. Why didn’t you call?”

“It’s been a lot. I just got home.” It’s probably not good that your default is to lie to her. “Everything’s fine.”

“Everything isn’t,” your mom says severely. “I raised you. I know you. Even over the phone, I know that tone in your voice.”

“How do you know me, Mom? We barely talk. We barely talked even when I was a kid.” You shouldn’t say this. Now’s not the right time to say this, but you’ve started, and you can’t stop yourself. “Everything’s not fine, and I don’t want to talk about it. Not with you. Not with anybody! The only person I want to talk to about it is Tomura, and he’s –”

In the hospital, in an induced coma, with a feeding tube down his throat that they won’t remove for two more days. Your own throat closes up, and your mom is silent on her end of the line. You brace yourself for her to blow up at you, to talk about how you never let her in, how the distance between the two of you is your fault. Instead: “You must be really worried about Tomura,” she says. “How is he doing?”

“He’s – they think he’ll be out in three days,” you say haltingly. “It’s – it’s worse for him than it was for me. I was healthier to start with. But they said he’ll be home in three days.”

“Are you going to visit him tomorrow?”

“I want to,” you say. “I have to go back to work, too. My boss said he’d give me as much time as I need, but I need to save it for when Tomura’s home.”

“When he’s home,” your mother repeats. “You live together?”

Oops. “Yeah. For a while now.”

“So it’s serious.”

“As serious as it gets,” you say. For a moment you’re overwhelmed by the memory of clinging to his hand as the world between dragged him in, refusing to let go even if it meant you’d be pulled in, too. “I’m – this is it for me, Mom. He’s it. I’m not leaving him.”

“I would never ask you to leave him,” your mom says, surprised. You shouldn’t have said that, should have known that the weight behind it wouldn’t make sense to her. “I’m looking forward to meeting him, once the two of you have recovered from all of this. You still haven’t told me what happened.”

You haven’t told anyone. “It’s hard to explain,” you say. Your phone begins to beep again, signaling an incoming call, and your stomach lurches when you see Magne’s caller ID. “I’m getting a call from the hospital. I have to go. Sorry –”

“Go,” your mom says immediately. “I’ll call back later. I love you.”

You manage to mumble that you love her too, then end the call and accept Magne’s. “What’s happening? Is he okay?”

You hear Magne speaking to someone else, but you can’t hear what she’s saying, and then her voice is there again, right in your ear. “Tomura’s awake,” she says. “They’re trying to sedate him again, but he’s a little upset. You can imagine.”

You can imagine. “Can I talk to him?”

“That’s why I called you, honey.” Magne puts you on speaker, and you hear her voice from a distance. “You’re right by his ear. Go ahead.”

“Tomura,” you say, and you hear a strangled sound. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Nobody there wants to hurt you. They’re just trying to help.”

You imagine him arguing that it hurts anyway. Probably also that it’s not helping, and he still feels like hell. “The sooner you get through this, the sooner you can come home,” you tell him. “That’s where I am right now. Me and Phantom are waiting for you. We’ll be here when you get back. Three days, right?”

“Right,” a doctor confirms from somewhere in the offing. “The wounds are healing well. The nutritional deficiencies are the main concern now.”

“You’ll be home soon,” you promise. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow.”

He’d be protesting if he could talk. Probably saying that he’ll be asleep tomorrow if he lets them sedate him again. “I’ll be there,” you say. “You’re fun to hang out with even when you’re asleep.”

You wonder if he’ll hear what you’re calling back to – all those months ago, when you were trying to keep him out of your bedroom at night. “I love you. I’ll be there tomorrow. Tomura –”

“He’s out,” Magne tells you. She laughs quietly. “We all knew you had him wrapped around your finger, but it’s really something to see in action.”

You close your eyes. “Thanks for sitting with him. It would be harder if you weren’t.”

Magne says something about how it’s not a problem, even though it is, and you thank her again and hang up the phone. You wish you were there with Tomura in the hospital. Even if you can’t talk to him, you can hold his hand. You could get used to the warmth of his skin and the new rhythm of his pulse and the sight of his white hair, before he comes home to you for good. You finish your soup and lift Phantom into your lap. She was with you at the start of all this, before all of this. She’s the only thing right now that feels like home. She lets you hug her and licks your face a few times, and for some stupid reason, that’s when you start to cry.

#lovhalloweenhorror #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #shigaraki tomura #ghost story #loser nerd ghost boyfriend

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oonajaeadira · 7 months ago

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20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag, @insomniamamma. For the record, I think you write beautiful smut. I appreciate it for its realness and connection.

How many works do you have on ao3? Aw man, you made me log into my AO3 account? I haven't been around there recently because I feel bad about leaving some messages unanswered. Tumbletown is my main fic home and I haven't really had the time to post here, much less on AO3. (Answer the question Adira.) It says I have 19. I don't post there until they're here and sometimes don't crosspost. Mainly I've been posting over there only if I have a complete series, although sorry LMR readers both there AND here.

2. What's your total ao3 word count? 260,317. Seeing as how not even half of my fic is up over there, I cringe to think of what my actual wordcount is.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Pedro Pascal. Which is an umbrella for the actual fandoms contained therein.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos According to AO3? Losing My Religion, A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop, A Rare Treat, The Sweets Series, Eyes Closed, Comm Open. According to Tumblr: Good. Things. Take. Time. (this one's a Tumble exclusive, dunno if I'll ever AO3 that one), Losing My Religion, Dulces Suenos, The Sweets Series, A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop.

5. Do you respond to comments? I do. Every one. I know I'm behind on some and I'm sorry about that. I let that bother me enough that it's getting in the way of my writing and I shouldn't do that.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't like to leave angst hanging and only use it as a trampoline for a happy ending, but I guess the closest thing I have would be A Kiss Before Dying and in Death We Combine. Even if it ends in "death," at least they get to be together.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of them? LOL. Of the multi-chapters I've actually finished, probably A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Only in passing. There were the mean girls that were kind of being catty over on a few other blogs about GTTT when it blew up much to my surprise (yes, of course I saw all of that, mean girls gonna mean). I remember some comment about not trivializing massage therapists just because I have a shitty back.... and all I could think was, hey. First of all, I can tell you didn't even read it, you're just mad about it blowing up. Not my fault. Next. Don't talk about my back. You wouldn't like being injured and having people talk smack about a piece of your body that gives you pain beyond comprehension, y'bigot. Also not my fault. Once I realized they were just mean girls meaning, I let it roll off and got my own satisfaction by writing a pretty bomb series based on some of their prompt lists that I never would have seen if I hadn't been clued into the smack. Turn that hate into something great!

9. Do you write smut? I do. Not exclusively and it's never the main dish of the story. If it does show up, it's usually the result of a long period of longing and/or feelings exchange.

10. Craziest crossover? I'm not a crossover gal. Every once in a while I'll write an easter egg into another fic (there are several in GTTT), but nothing heavy duty. There was the time The Mandalorian got something of a cameo in a Sweet's fic tho....

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Oh gods, I hope not. That would suck. I hate blocking people.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? YES! But not in the way you might think! @katareyoudrilling did an amazing job translating the first chapter of Good. Things. Take. Time. into a sexytime roleplay script!!!! I'M STILL SQUEEING ABOUT IT.

13. Have you co-written a fic before? In a way. For a while when RP accounts were in full swing, I was falling very much in love with the adventure I was creating with @morally-gray-prospector. That account was so amazing, run by one of the smartest writers I've ever known here, but they were TOO good and poured themselves generously into their responses, which got them quite a following...and they burned themselves out! While my story with Ezra didn't have an ending, I never expected it to. I meant it when I said it to the writer: I'm just so happy to have an adventure with Ezra and every minute working on it was a joy that I will love forever. I'm glad they had fun too and didn't keep pushing themselves when it was no longer sustainable. <3

All time favorite ship? It's Din and Little Bird. Now that I know how that story is going to soft-end, they're my favorite couple of all time.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will Oh, I'll finish them all. Right now, Branded is in the most danger of lingering, since I have to figure some stuff out with them. But if I could solve the puzzle of Losing My Religion, then I have no doubt that I'm eventually going to get on with that one too.

What are your writing strengths? I don't know what my strengths are, but I like the magic of showing without showing. I like pacing. I enjoy trying to get the characters' voices right and make the dialog real.

What are your writing weaknesses? I am slow. And I make a show of "not following the rules" as if I'm some kind of rebel, but really, I'm just bad at following rules!!!!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language I try to avoid it for the most part because I usually mess it up pretty badly. I generally don't write Din in Mando'a because I haven't really heard him speak it in the series and he seems to always default to Basic even if he understands it spoken to him, so I can't shake the feeling that it's out of character. But Little Bird is a Mandalorophile, so she'd definitely know it and use it. I do sometimes pull in Spanish for Sweets, but it's usually because it's two characters who actually would speak it when Sunday's not around, and even then I try to make sure it's basic enough for folks to follow. The one time I tried to put Italian in I messed it up pretty good, but a beautiful reader helped correct it for me and I'm so so so grateful. <3

First fandom you wrote for I know I have a Doctor Who piece in a notebook somewhere hidden away. And I most likely have a slew of Ranma pieces from my college days. Were there any before that? Possibly.

Favorite fic you've written I have too many. I write really slow, so if it's actually made it to Tumbles, that means I loved it enough to manifest it. Some of them I love because of the fandom, some because of the relationship, some because of the world building, some because of the interaction, and most because of the good time I had writing it. Right now I'm seeing people reading Losing My Religion, and I've had reason to dip into some of those chapters and re-read a little and it's reminded me how much I love writing for the Star Wars universe, how much confidence I have in it. That was the first fic I really wrote, and I put so much of myself into it... so if I choose a favorite, I'll point there first even if it's not really finished yet.

tagging: @blueeyesatnight @ezrasbirdie @missredherring @leslie-lyman @prolix-yuy

#tag games

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just-antithings · 10 months ago

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I have had two formidable experiences with my friends being antis.

One was a friend (call them R) within a group of friends that I really liked being around on discord; But they were always the one to throw the first stone at MHA pairings (they're minors oh no!!) and stuff like somnophilia or noncon fics, and of course everyone kind of followed suit. I was the youngest person in this group at the time, everyone was 20+ and I was 19, so I felt like I had to conform at least in this group or they'd turn on me. I tried testing the waters a bit with an age gap ship and got clocked immediately so I dialed it back and said I was just curious and didn't know their age gap.

I start to stray from the group, join a new server that's for dead dove content, make new friends. Two years later I noticed the other server had been deleted and I got a DM from one of my friends there for a new server (call them J), explaining that they had a falling out with R in real life, because apparently R was ABUSING THEM emotionally and psychologically as well as physically (hitting them as a "joke") and so they made a new server without them and had plans to move out. I joined them, it was nostalgic because it had all my old friends in it, but I was still a little nervous.

In a couple 1v1 DMs I realized that they really... didn't seem to care that much about ships in the way that R did. I eventually shared art of an oc/canon pairing that's taboo in the new server and they loved it. J admitted that they were going along with R's ideology out of fear of being hated and everyone else just kind of went with it because of how much XYZ fiction disgusted R and to keep being their friend it "wasn't up for discussion." J is now in a safe place and I'm back in the server with my old friends without having to tip toe around them constantly. It feels good!

The other friend, I'll call K, was my friend for a long long time. We stopped talking for years and then reconnected over the live action One Piece. When I followed their private twitter to share art I noticed they had "proshippers DNI" and decided to just tell them that I'm pro-fiction instead of trying to hide it because It's been years and I'm over pretending to advocate for things I don't agree with. K didn't really like that, because they had irl trauma that I won't go into detail about. We talked about it for a little bit, but I could tell they didn't really want to stay in close contact anymore, which sucked, but we agreed to move on and not expect anything from each other. They said they'll unfollow me but not block me because they didn't have anything against me, they just weren't comfortable with the stuff I liked, and I told them it was okay and to take care. We don't talk anymore, but I have lots of memories with them that I'm happy to have.

Because of these two really different experiences I have a sort of complicated relationship with antis... On one hand, it does NOT surprise me in the least when an anti comes out to have been a horrible person. On the other hand, I try not to expect it anymore? R was an abuser, full stop, but K was just someone who dealt with their trauma by avoiding what they didn't like. Antis who actually avoid content instead of seeking it out always have my respect because they have active boundaries and usually aren't meanspirited.

Sorry for the long post, I wanted to share this with someone and this blog helps me feel less frustrated about everything going on in the state of fandom these days. c':

#mod erin #ask #just anti things #posted without comment #abuse mention #noncon mention

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mrs-steve-harrington · 1 year ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

I started working on this days ago, but my tumblr is fucky and wouldn't show me the post in my drafts. So sorry this is so late! I had to recreate it using the second ask that I'd gotten, haha.

Seeing both of these show up in my inbox made me smile so much! Always here for the chance to share my faves. Especially since I feel like they change depending on my mood, haha.

the devil on my shoulder - The Babysitter (2017) [2,740 words]

Summary:

My take on how things could have gone if the cult had needed to manipulate Cole into helping/joining the ritual rather than needing to use his blood. -- Or maybe it's not the scrapes that hurt. Maybe it's the fact that it feels like no matter what he does, he is always going to end up back here. On the ground, bruised and scraped and laughed at by people he's never done anything to.

This one is very much a just-for-me kind of fic (though it was written for a request, so I guess it's for me and that one person who gave me the jumping off point). The fandom had, I think, around 20 or less fics back when I posted it? omg I checked and there were less than 10 fics back then holy crap. And I know very few people who have actually seen either of the movies. But I fell in love with them both and am still so grateful that someone replied to my request for ideas way back when and gave me a reason to write this. It's written in a strange style that I've never replicated, but it's one of the few fics of my own that I go back to reread with semi-regularity.

anything (anything) for you - Stranger Things [5,373 words]

Summary:

Desperate not to lose Nancy, Steve proposes she date him and Jonathan at the same time. He didn't mean for the three of them to date each other. But if that's what it will take for Nancy to be willing to stay with him, he'll figure out how to be okay with it.

This fic was written for @urisarang as part of a fic exchange. Maybe the second AO3 fic exchange I ever did? I remember being so relieved to have been assigned to Uri because they would be perfectly happy for whatever angsty idea I might come up with. And wouldn't be upset if I came up with something of my own rather than working strictly from their prompts at the time. I got the idea for this while writing MY OWN prompts for whoever was assigned to me and realizing,actually, I needed to write it myself as well. Since this one there's only been one other fic that I've ever seen with a similar premise (shout out to @stevethehousewife's amazing fic Do I Mean Anything?), but I remember it being fairly popular in other fandoms and oh man. It's just. One of my favorite flavors of angst. idk, I love this fic and someday I will finish the sequel that's over 15k words long already and nowhere near done

Sleeves - Free Guy [1,684 words]

Summary:

Antwan helps roll up the sleeves of the new shirt he bought for Keys, and convinces him to let something go in the process.

Another fic that's mostly "for me", though written knowing that Uri would probably enjoy it as well. It's so wild, but like. I had only written 2 Free Guy fics at the time and was sure that was all I had in me. I would never write another one again. Then while getting ready to go to a memorial service, I was rolling up my sleeves and was hit with the image of Antwan rolling up Keys' sleeves for him and yeah. Turns out wrists are just as sexy to write about as necks are and I remember having a really good time writing this one. And man, it's hard to have fun while writing and also enjoy the end product, but this is another fic that I go back to reread sometimes.

the missing piece of me (is you) - Stranger Things [23,000 words]

Summary:

Steve has been in a relationship with Jonathan and Nancy since the week before graduation (though he's not quite sure relationship is the right word; they're something and that's already more than he ever hoped for). With them, his summer was going better than he expected when his dad first cut him off. Then Dustin came back from camp with his secret Russian code. Between the ensuing drugs and interrogation, Steve's missing pieces of his summer—he doesn't remember that he's in a relationship at all. After Star Court, Nancy and Jonathan notice the distance Steve is putting between them and worry he's realized trying to make the three of them work is too complicated; especially when they see just how comfortable he is around Robin.

Ah yes. The only big bang fic I've written since joining this fandom that I actually like. Forever and always have to thank @pterawaters for coming up with the original idea for this fic when I was struggling and stressing out trying to think of something on my own. The initial idea should have been simple enough, but then when I started writing, it took on a life of its own and suddenly I was writing a Before and After style fic and man. I am still really freaking proud of how it turned out! It's definitely one of my all time favorites. plus everyone should seriously listen to the playlist that ptera made for it because fuck, it fits the tone of the fic so well and it still lives on the main screen of my phone

The Best People He Knows - Stranger Things [3,692 words]

Summary:

Steve doesn't just drive Dustin to the dance. He comes over to help with Dustin's hair first (and gets some hugs while he's there). -- "Are you sure we have enough time?" Dustin asks, his voice urgent, not unlike how he sounded back when he convinced Steve to help him track down his demo-dog. Not that Steve blames him. School dances are harder to navigate than just about anything, including the Upside Down.

This is the very first fic I ever wrote for Stranger Things. It's probably the closest I'll ever EVER get to writing Steve Harrington in character. And even when rereading it after going to get the link, I think it still holds up. I don't know, it's a very nothing fic in that not much happens in it. But it makes me happy and I love it and I hope that people will continue to find it in the future and give it a shot.

#the babysitter 2017 #free guy #stranger things #ketwan #stoncy #thanks for the ask!#seriously #this was so much fun #gosh I miss rec lists #I can't forget to make one this year for OTHER people's fics #my writing #asks #anonymous #self recs

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 1 year ago

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18, 20, 22, 29 for fic writers ask!!! Good luck with the final push 🥰

Fanfic asks

Thanks canariie!! <3

18.What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

This one comes from To Give You Shelter, and once again, the line is in bold and I've included other lines to give it more context:

“I’m sorry I’m this late,” she says, “rebuilding the Soul Society has taken priority. Nashi aren’t in season right now, but I hope it’s still sweet enough.” She eyes the array of flowers, and her smile widens a fraction. “It looks like the others came before, it must have been on their breaks. They’ve been working really hard lately, we all have.” The corners of her mouth fall. At the slight waver in her voice, she presses her lips together and takes in a deep breath. “We have a lot to do,” she continues more quietly, “much more than I think any of us realized.”

I love fics that as set right after the war, where everyone is picking up the pieces both physically and emotionally. I've writtne a few fics now about this, but To Give You Shelter is one that I've been wanting to write for a very long time. I wanted to write a moment where Momo goes to visit the grave of someone who died in the war, and it's only then she realises it's taken her so long - due to the reconstruction and having to comfort and help those who survived - to come and finally pay her respects. She knew there would be a lot to do, but it hits just how much she has had to to do, how many all of them have had to do. I felt I was able to capture that in this line.

20.What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

When the Souls Sleep and the World is Our Own. I'm not really a fan of most title I come up with to be honest. This one I feel though encapsulated what I was going for with the fic. It's the longest title I've written to now that I think about it.

22.Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

It honestly depends, because sometimes the ending is the first part that comes to me, and other times it's the last thing. For the latter, I can definitely struggle with the ending. I know where I want a fic to go generally, but then comes the ending and I want to make sure I'm able to wrap up all (or at least most of) what I brought up throughout the fic. There's also times where I wonder when I should stop. There's been fics where I've written a long scene of the end, that just keeps going and going because I've suddenly discovered something I can to explore, but then I stop and realise I'm more or less rambling on and on, so I cut it down to a point that seems conclusive or definitive.

My most recent struggle was with On the Shoreline, where I just couldn't write the whole resolution at the end. I wanted Toshiro to fess up everything he's feeling all in one go, but it was a scene that required him to draw things out because of the weight of what he was feeling, and I also didn't know whether to stop with him leading Momo away from the beach or them about to go eat something or with them meeting up with the others who came on the trip with them. I did end up writing up to the latter, it ultimately got cut (and may or may not make an appearance in a fic later on down the line) and went with them about to eat, showing he's finally about to go enjoy the break with Momo.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

All right, an abandoned WIP it is. The working titles were...something: A Snake Coiled Around a Cat's Tail, This was written for prompts I got from @alexiethymia for Ginran a while ago (this is the fic I went with in the end). Basically, I was going to write a fic about the last time Gin and Rangiku had a proper interaction before before all hell breaks loose in the Soul Society when Ichigo and co. come to save Rukia. I also wanted to incorporate the little known fact that Rangiku knows how to do 'classical dancing' and has a special kimono for it to perform in according to Color BLEACH Plus. what this means is vague, but I took it to mean something similar to what Rukia was doing in the new year's episode or the dances that maiko or geisha can perform. In relation to this, I also have the headcanon that Rangiku doesn't often show off her dancing, so only a few people have seen her perform; one of those people is Gin.

However, I went from wanting to write one scene to Gin's progression towards leaving Rangiku, where we start off in their childhood after he gets the Shinigami robes, and ends in when he arrives Hueco Mundo just after his betrayal has been revealed.

I abandoned it because it became far too ambitious and I wasn't up for it at the time. I also wasn't 100% confident in my ability to write Gin; it can be a slippery slope where he has to be just cold enough to be Gin, but also show a softer side to Rangiku in his own 'Gin' way. I may pick it up again one day, but only if I get the right inspiration to write it.

Anyhow, the section I've chosen was what the original fic was going to be; it takes place a few days before Rukia gets brought back to the Soul Society, where Gin [knowing his time with her is coming to an end] asks Rangiku out for an evening in the Rukongai. The whole night is almost a nonevent, in that Rangiku still can't understand why Gin has been distancing himself for decades. At the end, they walk back to the Seireitei and arrive outside of Gin's quarters, where this happens:

“Don’t leave just yet,” he says. “I have a request.”

Rangiku blinks; she can’t even remember the last time he asked anything of her. “What is it?”

Rather than be amused by her confusion, he steps aside and gestures for her to come in. She knows how she must look. The right thing to do would be to refuse, it’d serve him right for deliberately putting distance between them. She even turns her ankle to go, but it’s quick to betray her, to step her foot into his room, and then the other follows. Rangiku folds her arms tight over her torso, trying to shove down the thrum of childish excitement. He’s letting her in on something for the first time in years.

When he closes the door, something changes in his smile, making it smaller. It plummets her elation to anxiety.

He doesn’t move from the door as he says, “Dance for me?”

“W-What?”

“It’s been a while since I last saw you dance.”

Rangiku raises a brow. “Since when did you like seeing me dance?”

“I always have.”

“Well, you never said anything!” She sighs. “Besides, I don’t have a fan, I’m not wearing the kimono I need, and there's no music.”

Gin considers for a moment, then he moves away from the door. He walks past her, the sleeve of his uniform brushing past hers. It's the closest he's gotten to her all night, she can even smell the faint traces of persimmons off of him. She's caught up in for a moment, and the buzz she felt before almost comes back, until she hears a drawer being opened.

She spins around, watching Gin as he rummages through a small desk, until he pulls something out and turns back to her.

He holds out a fan to her. “Then pretend the rest. Treat it as if it you’re practicing.”

She frowns down at the fan. “Why now?”

He shrugs. "I'm feeling nostalgic, I suppose."

Thanks for sending these in! :D

#hitsuhina #ginran #momo hinamori #bleach #fanfiction #ask meme #asks #canariie

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aurorafables · 7 months ago

Text

From the Grey, Chapter 2.

First of all, thank you for the likes and reblogging 😊 you just made my day when I saw any activity on my post. The story will be more than 20 chapters, so it's time for the second part. Enjoy! 😉

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic

Word Count: 3.7k

Cross-posted: AO3

All four of us hated interviews, and no matter how much we tried to take some of the burden off Noah's shoulders, as the main lyricist and music writer, as well as the lead singer of the band, most of the time it fell to him to answer the questions. Over the years, he got better at it, and he took the hurdles more easily from interview to interview. He could dissolve in a few minutes, and if asked about the process of creation, he could talk for hours.

We were in one of our label's offices between two concerts. Noah was called from a magazine, and they were talking on video call, and I, out of the picture, stretched out in the mustard yellow faux leather armchair with my cell phone. I was only half paying attention to the conversation, but sometimes I got lost in Noah's soothing voice while I was replying to my girlfriend's messages. When the possible connection between his lyrics and his experiences came up, I looked at him a little worried. I could only half see his face from behind his laptop screen, but I waited with bated breath for an answer. Noah thought for a moment, then revealed as much as he could, but gave as vague an answer as possible. “ … I'm trying to find the limit so that everyone can relate to what they’re going through, at least for the most part. And I also think it’s kind of corny sometimes to be like too specific and… it takes out the fun of it, the whole thing loses its effect and its poetry. In addition, I don't like to express my life and personal experiences too much through the lyrics. I want them to talk about my music, not me.” I was damn proud of him, and I think it was written on my face, because he glanced over at me and gave me a thumbs up under the table where only I could see. I was afraid that he would be put in an uncomfortable situation, that things he didn't want to talk about would be taken out of him, but he solved it professionally and then steered the conversation to slightly lighter topics. I remembered the moment when he was afraid and pushed the little notebook in front of me that hid the pieces of his soul.

We were both at the tattoo parlor trying to pass the time until closing time. Noah had finished a nice bathroom cleaning that I had done when I was a newbie, and was sitting on the corner sofa, holding a notebook that I've seen him carry a lot lately. I looked up from my sketch and watched him bite his lip as he wrote something down. Then he drew out a line, brushed a strand of hair that hung in his face behind his ear, and resumed writing. It was always good to spend time together, even if we were just sitting in the same room and lost in our own things. The silence was also pleasant with him. I really realized this when Noah spent the night with someone else a few days earlier. I had a hard time falling asleep, and even when I did, I woke up an hour later. It was five in the morning when I checked my phone for the umpteenth time and put it back on the windowsill in frustration because he hadn't texted me. I mentally forbade myself to ask him if he was okay, but it cost me to wake up the next morning as a zombie and go to work. It wasn't until the next night - as I listened to Noah breathe softly on the mattress - that I realized that I was missing it. The sound of his breathing. I glanced at the clock—we still had at least twenty minutes—then closed the sketchbook, stretched out, and sat down next to Noah on the couch. The corner of his mouth turned up as he realized I was there, but otherwise he didn't bother, continued to write, only looking up again when he seemed to have reached the end. Whatever he was doing. I didn't know him as someone who writes a diary, so my first guess would have been song lyrics. But I didn't really have to grope in the dark for long, because he opened his notebook and handed it to me. I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but took it from him without a word. I detected a slight nervousness in his dark brown eyes, and he added to it when he started biting his lower lip. I knew it was a big deal that was happening and I just felt I was the first to read into his notebook. Noah pulled up one leg, rested his chin on his knee, and looked at me as I began to read between the transcribed, drawn out lines.

"I see through you I know what you are I've seen the Devil more than I've seen God And when he has you by your neck I hope you choke on every fucking word you said" "You've dug your grave and you have no one but yourself to blame I see the world in black and white Because true color always fades under the right lights"*

“Wow,” I said with a big sigh, and staring in front of me, I tried to process what the lines were saying. I guessed who it might be about, it wasn't hard to figure out who he was so angry with, because these words almost oozed hatred. Then when I got over it, I could finally appreciate it all. "Noah, that's pretty good," I looked at him, and I can only hope that he saw in my eyes how sincerely I said this. Because in my opinion there was no trace of bias, only admiration. “Why don't you show it to your band?” Noah snorted and took the notebook back. “I'm not even seventeen, Nick. Why would they listen to me? Why would they want anything to do with a kid's lyrics?” “Because it's fucking good?” I asked back in disbelief. “No,” he shook his head and threw the notebook and pen into his bag. “It wouldn't make any sense if someone else sang it.” I watched as he quickly packed up and sullenly sank into the soft couch with folded arms. Oh…he never mentioned that. “Do you want to sing, doe?” I asked him with a smile. Noah rolled his eyes at the nickname I had given him a few years ago when he suddenly grew and was all legs and arms. “Why would I want to, when it looks like we'll soon get our first record deal as guitarists?” “Because you are young, full of dreams,” I whispered to him while I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You can be anything else. Just imagine… the audience standing at your feet and singing along with you word for word the songs you wrote.” Noah didn't answer right away, I'm sure he was toying with the idea of what it would be like if… "Nick, you are crazy," he finally said, laughing in confusion. “I'm just fucking tired,” I defended myself, during a yawn. “But I still mean what I said.” I pulled away from him, and Noah just shook his head in disbelief. In the four years we've known each other, I've noticed that he reacts strangely when I tell him he can do something big. It hurts to think that the reason for this could be that in his childhood he was constantly trying to destroy him to such an extent that he simply cannot deal with encouragement. It's like he expects me to laugh at him after that and tell him to forget it, he'll never be able to do that. And yes, it still hurt a little that he assumed that about me, but I understood it was unfortunately coded into his DNA. Words and their amazing power… However, there is something more here: his desire to prove himself, his determination and perseverance. “I hate so much that I can't put these in her face anymore,” he spoke after a while, almost muttering. It's like he's tired of all this a long time ago. Our eyes met and without a word I slid closer to hug him. "I know… I know," I whispered into his hair, then kissed his head. His dreams trumped everything, which makes me very proud of him. He started to build his life nicely, and before our first album was completely finished, our song Glass Houses also received the last touches and expansions on the text, just to make it all round:

"You said I'd never make it You said I'd make a mistake But now I'm right where I belong and you've got nothing to say"*

Noah founded a new band that was all his own, he started singing, and the audience is already singing along. And his mother has been rotting in a cemetery ever since, but perhaps not so deep that if thousands of people were shouting at the same time, she wouldn't hear the message intended for her.

We stepped out of the air-conditioned office into the Californian heat and the hustle and bustle of the street. I put on my sunglasses and waited for Noah to find his before we hit the road. People went to lunch, and at that time they poured out of the offices, and although we didn't fit in with the figures in suits and costumes, we still tried to remain invisible. Jolly and Folio were waiting for us at a Mexican restaurant just a few blocks from the Sumerian Records office. We stopped at a red light, and as the asphalt almost steamed from the heat, I regretted not tying my hair before we left the office. I ran my hands under my thick curls and lifted my hair a little. Noah looked at me and smiled. "There are advantages to having short hair, you know," he remarked, and I just stuck out my tongue. “Maybe some people can do whatever he want with his hairstyle, but I think my magic lies in my hair,” I answered him. “I can't believe that. When I met you, your hair was still short, and even then…” he began, but the light turned green, so we set off in the rushing crowd. “What then?” I asked him when we got through. Noah glanced at me from behind his glasses and shrugged. “Even then, you were you.” I furrowed my brows at his answer, but did not pursue the matter further. We were approaching a Starbucks, and I had already guessed that we would have a stop there. I was right, because Noah touched my arm and motioned with his head towards the entrance. I followed him, and I didn't mind that there were a few ahead of us, because at least we could cool down in there. "I'm getting the key to Steven's lake cottage next week," Noah said unexpectedly, while I squinted at the list of iced drinks on the wall behind the counter. Then I turned to him and waited for him to continue. “If you think so, of course, only if you want to… it would be great if you could join me.” Noah had pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, I could see his eyes full of hope. I don't even remember the last time we went somewhere without the boys. "The thing is…" Noah continued while I was lost in my thoughts, "I miss you. Since I've been living in California with the others, we don't hang out much outside of the band.” He spoke my thoughts out loud in their entirety. We had another concert on Saturday this week, then two weeks of rest, which I would have liked to have spent with him, but then something came up to my mind. “I promised to come to Maya's mom's birthday party next week.” Storm clouds appeared on Noah's face. As fast as being doused with a bucket of ice water. He's always had a hard time with rejection…and besides, he's never waited to find out if it really was rejection. “Then…” “I have to be at the party organized by my girlfriend. But that doesn't mean I have to stay with them for the second week,” I told him with a small smile as I ran my palm over his forearm. “So yes, you can count on me, along with a dozen mosquitos.” Noah finally smiled genuinely, flashing his white teeth as his eyes narrowed and his small laugh lines deepened. I was instantly euphoric, but the thought that I would still have done anything to see him happy was terrifying. It was soon our turn to order, but for some reason I got really stuck studying his face. I watched him speak — I couldn't even remember what I ordered in the end — and I thought to myself what a strange coincidence that Maya is Asian. Until now, I didn't even pay much attention to this, but then our tour in Japan a few years ago popped into my mind.

Noah was lounging in a towel in front of the bathroom mirror, drying his hair. I sat on the bed in his hotel room and waited for him to finish, because we had to go to the rehearsal. I fumbled with my phone when I found a picture from the day before with both of us tagged. When we went sightseeing, some fans came up to us and we took a picture with them. Back then, it was still rare to be recognized on the street. I grinned and got up to go to the bathroom to show the picture to Noah as he had been in a weird mood all day and I expected it to cheer him up a bit. I raised my cell phone in front of his face. Noah stopped brushing his hair and put the hairbrush on the counter, then took the phone from me. He looked at the photo with critical eyes, then looked into the mirror, where our eyes met. He returned the mobile and said nothing. He turned on the hotel's hair dryer and began the operation with complete resignation, and I stood beside him, confused. “Is something wrong?” I asked in the loud noise. “What did you say?” he asked back after turning off the hair dryer. I sighed and leaned against the counter. "I thought you'd like it here," I admitted. ”It's a big adventure that we got this far with the band, and besides, hey, we're in Japan!” I spread my arms in confusion. Noah looked at me silently, his eyes shining darkly, then finally just shook his head. “Should I get more excited because we are in the birthplace of Manga and Anime?” he asked cynically. I wanted so badly to understand… I wanted to know what was going through his mind. I wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Your roots lead back here," I said quietly. Noah snorted and ran the brush over his hair again. “I have no roots. I'm just going with the flow.” “Do you mean you hate Japan?” “Why should I love it? Nothing binds me here except my mother's devil plan to not rest until she gives birth to a half-breed child.” I've heard this story before, and since then I haven't been able to understand what kind of person is, who is able to wade through all emotions and reason for the sake of a fixation. “This place… it just confirms to me that I don't fit in completely here either.” I remembered the bullying he received at school for being different from the others, which must have contributed to his dropping out of education at the age of fifteen. The blue bruise on his cheekbone and how he wouldn't even admit to me that one of his idiot classmates had laid a hand on him. Things got a little better when he started hanging out with us, the graduates who were three years older, but after graduation I couldn't protect him anymore. Freak, bastard, mix, little girl because of his long hair, fag… and these are just the adjectives he told me, who knows what words were thrown at his head. I have already received some of these, but it hurt much more to know that Noah had to face this every day. I looked up at him, because he was already half a head taller than me, and I only spoke when he was finally paying attention to me. “I don't know how much my opinion matters, but I think your mother's only good decision is that you exist.” I turned away and left him alone in the bath. Let his rage some more if he felt he needed to, but first I wanted to let him know how important he was to me. The next day, when we were in Nara, the city of deers, Noah finally smiled after a week. Indeed, his whole face brightened and he fed the animals as happily as a small child. As he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and tried to hold back a burst of laughter as he idly watched me being torn apart by some naughty deers for a few morsels of food, I realized that digging into things the day before had been worth it.

Noah was a step ahead of me, checking on his phone if we were going in the right direction, and I was behind him sipping my shake, which turned out to be chocolate flavored after the first taste. My gaze drifted to his broad shoulders, then to his tattooed biceps, which tensed slightly as he gestured with his iced coffee towards a street where we had to turn. I would have bet that none of his old classmates would have dared to bully him again. The others were already sitting at the table when we arrived. Jolly noted that he was already starting to starve, which didn't seem like much of a problem since the appetizer was already on the table. Noah immediately threw himself on some roasted, spicy peppers while I browsed the drink menu. “How was the interview?” asked Folio, his cold beer in hand. I glanced up at them from behind the little notebook. “The usual," Noah shrugged, then licked his finger. “Don't worry, it wasn't mentioned that you fell on your ass on the way down the stairs at the last concert,” he added with an evil grin, for which our drummer punched him on the shoulder in return. We all started laughing. I remembered walking off the stage two days ago, exhausted, Folio coming after me, and then after a big thump - which I could hear clearly even through the loud shouting of the audience - I looked back and thought he was gone, but then I saw him sitting on the metal steps. Fortunately, he was not harmed. “I thought I would rest a bit,” Folio defended himself. “Some people hold only one microphone the whole time, and I am the one who trains hard on stage for an hour and a half. You should try it sometime, Noah.” “I'm still perfect the way I’m,” Noah looked at me and we smiled at each other. “You don't want to hear my drumming skill,” he added horrified. "Personally, I don't want to hear Folio sing," I interjected, and the others laughed and nodded in agreement. “Great, then everything will remain as it was,” concluded Jolly. The waiter came out and took our order. Noah asked for half the menu because he wanted to try everything, so I only ordered a burrito. I felt that I would have leftovers from his order.

“And what are your plans for the break?” Folio asked. "I'm meeting Maya," I answered. “I am going home to the family in Sweden,” said Jolly. “I have to record some vocals, then I will rest,” Noah answered. “With Karin?” Folio asked back. The mood at the table suddenly became frosty. Noah snorted but didn't say anything, just poked at the napkin. I felt that somehow I had to save him from this unpleasant situation. "That wouldn't be about rest," I said, the first thing that came to mind. It seemed like a good idea to play it off with a joke, but when Noah turned his head toward me, he looked at me like he couldn't believe I just said that. I already regretted speaking. "I'll be right back, guys," Noah said, still staring at me like I'd grown a second head. He headed for the bathrooms and I was so damn tempted to follow him and find out what was wrong, but I couldn't. I didn't want to run after him in front of our friends like I was his puppy, so I sighed and put my hands on my knees as if I could hold my legs back from the walk. "It would be good to neglect this Karin subject, Folio," said Jolly, then turned to me. “Don't feel bad about it. We didn't know we couldn't even joke with him.” I actually felt bad because I didn't know… I had no idea what was going on between Noah and the girl, so I didn't even think about hurting my best friend. Noah acted like I didn't exist that day. He quickly finished his lunch and said he had work to do and had to go. I stayed there with the boys and a pile of food. The tension eased a bit for our weekend concert, but it was still fucked up.

Suddenly, I found myself on the plane home, still not sure what happened at the restaurant. I've regretted a thousand times that I didn't go and find out what was wrong. I could only hope that we would be able to discuss it next week, and that was only one of the reasons why I couldn't wait to fly back to him in California.

*Bad Omens - Glass Houses

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian #nick ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson #nick folio #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens band #bad omens smut

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mmuffncakes · 1 year ago

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20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @voidcat-senket who is a wonderful person defo check them out!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

15, shockingly.

2. What’s your total ao3 word count? 142,962, which 60k of that is towards yeehaw/shadow currently.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently just Star Wars, but I do write for L4D2 on tumblr!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Love In An Elevator - a VERY old SpiderVenom fic that is by far probably my legacy on a03 despite it having been abandoned back in 2016. It was mainly a massive fluff piece of Eddie and Peter falling in love while meeting each other in the elevator of their shared apartment complex and soon enough, Eddie's past comes back to haunt him. There was a time where I had planned to make a 3-parter to finish it, and I lost that outline for it years ago and just never had the motivation to write it again.

2. Burnt Coffee - Another fluffy SpiderVenom of them waking up together post sex and just enjoying each other's presence. Another very old one. But it was a short and sweet one-shot that even I still read back on to this day.

3. Pipe - This was a Corvo/Outsider fic that was based around a single tweet from Harvey Smith about how Corvo would, on the occasion, smoke a pipe for something special. So I wrote about Wyman proposing to Emily and them becoming engaged and Corvo smoking a pipe as a celebratory thing. There he's visited by Outsider and some trippy vague sex happens and the god spends the night. This was probably the fic that really solidified my repetitive writing style that I still use today.

4. Pluvial - Another Dishonored fic. This one was written post the first game, with uncertain chaos ending of just the Outsider giving Emily her first meeting with him. It was more of a character study into the two and was before the novel and the second game had been announced. I had planned on making a sequel years ago called Petrichor, but never got around to it. I'm now realizing that 2/3rds of my Dishonored fics are titled with the letter P.

5. This Isn't Bourbon - I'm actually... shocked that this is the next one for Kudos. This is a short Modern AU fluff one-shot of Ronin and Tara from the movie Epic. Where Ronin fucks up on asking for a Bourbon Old Fashioned and asks for chocolate milk because he's smitten with the bartender (Tara). I wrote this one in a night when I SHOULD have been working on a project. To be honest, I was shocked this one even got up as high as it did for anything, as it was just a silly little thing. But then again, the Ronin/Tara people are hungry for anything,

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do respond to comments! I don't get to all of them, but I do try to respond to all of them. Certain ones on old fics (like Love in an Elevator) I tend not to as they're just reminiscing on the fic being left alone. But if I post something new or I'm just flattered by the comment (wHICH TO BE FAIR, I'm always flattered???? some of y'all are too fucking nice), I try my best to respond! Interaction is always fun for me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

OH FUCK that would be Birdcall! I had been playing L4D2 once and everyone had died (playing realism mode, so no respawns) and Ellis caw-caw'd out expecting a return (as if the team gets separated they'll caw-caw back, or at least Coach will?), and never got one as the team was dead. So I decided to write up a literal all hurt no comfort fic of the team dying one by one and Ellis have to make it through the Parish chapter himself. And when he gets to the end of the game and onto the helicopter, he gets excited and turns to tell the team but remembered he was the only one left alive. I cried typing it ngl.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

If we're talking the longer fics I have, that would be Connor Get Your Priorities Straight, an Assassins Creed 3 collection I did of Connor and Mason Wheems connecting and falling in love over the course of a year. Each chapter was written during the season/weather I was currently experiencing (since the game took place near home of good ol' Boston) and was just them living their lives. And of course, it ends up with them together .

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Since moving to AO3, I have not received any hate. I used to get a lot of hate back on fanfic.net from the infamous Fox Familiar if anyone knows of her. And then some general odd hate in ways of mockery from others. But since moving from there, I've received none, and let me tell you it helped a LOT with the self-esteem with writing as I was still a minor when I got the hate.

9. Do you write smut?

I doooooo~ On occasion, for the most part. I've done a few PW/oP's and then emotional PW/P's. Of all the longer pieces I have none have smut chapters (very soon to that changing). I've come to realize, however that my best smut is when I write it as like, an experience, rather than explicitly. It's about the intimacy, the connection, the feelings, the experience, rather than just Person A does this to Person B. Person B does this to Person A. Which, do not get me wrong, I still love it when I see it, and it's a VERY fun way to read and write, but I find that I struggle with that style. So weird experimental stuff it is!

10. Do you write crossovers?

I could. I don't think I've ever written a crossover outside of roleplay? But I haven't yet!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

ONCE. There was that HUGE breach a few years back on AO3 where a bunch of peoples fics got stolen onto a website that requires you to pay to even look at it, and I had to send like 3 e-mails to customer support with a copy-paste about stuff. This was back in like... I think 2019? And they'd nagged I think my Uncharted fics and my SpiderVenom ones.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not! I do know that I have a few Spanish speaking readers (who've made a few comments before) that I would love to translate the fic for, but I know I'm not skilled enough in Spanish (and the Spanish I know is Puerto Rican-slanged Spanish) to do so. I know, in time, I do plan on writing a fic in Irish once I get better at the language (I'm still learning!).

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not! It's something I think about a lot when it comes to my friends and such, writing something together but I have no idea if I can beat my walls down to let someone else take over on things when it comes to how I write and such. It's SUCH a thing for me. In time, I would love to. Where I'm at right now? Probably not.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

All-time??? Gosh. I think, of all the ships I have, there's one I keep coming back to, regardless of time and place, it's something that I think of so much and how much I joke about how it's the blueprint for all future ships of mine, and that's Corvo/Outsider. It's the one I think of the most between all my hyper fixations, and it was one of the first ships that my partner and I had gotten into and done so much with before we even started dating. And to this day it is an important ship to the two of us.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

Love In An Elevator. I feel like it's awful parent, neglecting it for years despite the fact I had written out a whole 3-parter outline to finish it up. Maybe, in time, I may try to again, down the line. But it would be a wild jump from 2016 writing and 2023 writing as I went through an entire degree and developed more and more of my writing style. But I lost motivation for it years ago. So there's always this hesitation of "Oh I'll pick it up!" and then I sit there knowing I would end up dropping it again.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I don't know. From my point of view, there's always things to improve upon. I've come to discover, with the recent writing of shadow of the mountain, that I've got a good voice for many of the characters, understanding their motivations, their tones, etc. And I find that my sense of writing pure dread and fear tends to work well as that's something I've been working on in ttrpg horror campaigns. (Hi Barq, I still think about the time I genuinely scared you and I'm still very VERY SORRY, I LOVE YOU)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Planning. I have only recently started making outlines for my works. And even then, I don't follow it to a T as I tend to keep adding and adding. ALSO, FUCKING COMMAS. I USE THEM TOO MUCH! SOMEONE STOP ME.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's a situational thing. Certain things, like shouting out surprised ( "DIOS MIO!" for example) is fine, as it's part of being bilingual. I found myself shouting in Irish the other day at someone who cut me off! Without even thinking! As well as if the other person is also speaking in that language, go for it. But those fics where the character says something in a language that they had never spoken in in cannon without the explicit headcannon being mentioned, and then all of a sudden "oh sorry, I forgot you don't speak that"/"oh sorry, it's hard to switch out sometimes", I DUNNO MAN, rubs me the wrong way. This is also coming from someone who has English as their first language and is currently learning Irish through an app, and Puerto Rican Spanish through proxy of partner's family. But that language stuff CAN work, it just has to be in the right setting and make sense.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First one I wrote for on AO3 that wasn't me moving things over from fanfic.net was actually Uncharted! But over all, from years ago? Wee me who was probably 14 or something? Either Kingdom Hearts or Final Fantasy.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

That would be the one I'm currently working on: shadow of the mountain. This is the first BIG fic I've written in a long time. The last big one being to catch smoke for the Dishonored Big Bang 2017, of which feels tiny in comparison to the current one. Shadow has been such a test of my skills to where I joked about "nothing is a coincidence" to the point where I had to make a tag for it because of how much intertwining and interweaving this fic has with itself. There's still so much I haven't fully revealed yet and so much I've hinted at (that some have caught on to) that I'm just--it feels good to write it. It feels good to push myself to something so intricate for each and every detail since the very first sentence. I can't wait to finish it.

Tag 20 people: TWENTY? THAT'S SO MANY. i think senket tagged some of you already but im retagging :D @nightingalesighs @etoiline @missinkylace @xenalistair (DO THIS FOR YOUR ART <3) @paper-crane-castles . I got 5. Meg ain't got a fuckin tumblr so I can't assault her with it.

#ask meme #a03 meme #20 questions #this took me an hour to write out #senket i hope youre happy

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therosefrontier · 1 year ago

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20 Questions for Writers

Got tagged by @pencilofawesomeness!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Ah, 66 of them! And if I count that Whumptober 2021 collection that I put in one work but is really 31 different oneshots, then 96, I suppose...?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

That would be 999226, from the looks of it! (oh wow I didn't realize I was so close to one million, dang...)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Genshin Impact, Tower of God, and now Twisted Wonderland have been the biggest hyperfixations over the past few years, I'd say! And also Fairy Tail! Got a few for FT due to an event...still need to continue those... And yeah, going a little older, I got My Hero Academia, Voltron, Attack on Titan, Sonic the Hedgehog, etc... Also unpublished RWBY. But then I have a lot of unpublished WIPs soooo...

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Hmm, looks like that would be...

Every Day We Face the World: Whumptober 2021 | Genshin Impact | 383

We Promised We Would Be Together | Genshin Impact | 342

A Day in the Life of Why Did I Take This Job | Genshin Impact | 242

And You Think, "No Escape" | Twisted Wonderland | 227

Angeli Quaeritus | My Hero Academia | 206

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! Or at least, I like to! Now I do. So, with Whumptober last year, I did drop the ball on this one, I remember. I was going through the process of responding for a while and taking a long time getting back to people...and eventually, after multiple months have passed, I just went "marked read" to everything that remained. In retrospect, I kind of wish I had not overthought it so much and just made a response. I can overthink a lot of things like this. But of course, I do really really enjoy reading comments! And I like the interaction of responding. But because of my awkwardness, sometimes it's difficult knowing what to say to a compliment... I think I'm better now than I once was, though, even just compared to a year or two ago...

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm, so, my first thought is Tower to Celestia on account of being my one and only "real" major character death fic, but it's more bittersweet, maybe? Since I end with the epilogue, with grown-up Klee telling the story of her friends who died and kind of sharing the legend... I think angstiest might have to go to Together We Face the Darkness, actually. Which is, uh, also character death, but canonical? It's a Whumptober piece, and for the most part, those still get happy endings, but not so much for the backstory ones...

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Huh, good question! And You Think "No Escape" when I finish it, maybe but yeah, I usually end "happy" in some way, though generally following much angst, but I think I might have to go with A Day in the Life of Why Did I Take This Job for this? Ends with lightheartedly intense snowball fights, found family vibes, and Razor calling his friends "lupical" so, like, looking back on it, I think it might be up there! At least in my opinion :)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, I have not! At least, nothing of significance I remember. The community's been very nice.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, I do not! I don't really write romance much at all? My aroace self does not have this material in my purview in any way XD

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I do! Although it's mainly in the realm of "AU of characters from fandom X now in the world of fandom Y" rather than truly making the characters collide, but on that note, I agree with @pencilofawesomeness that the The A.I.D. Universe project we were doing is probably the craziest, for sure! That concept really was just "what if all of the fandoms existed as their own world in the multiverse, and what if there was some super special interdimensional task force that deals with multiverse problems and which recruited all of these characters as members?" We never posted all that much for it, but it was a cool thought experiment back in the day, and we had a lot of ideas for the middle of the broad story and all the adventures they may have. May or may not ever really get back to this, but great memories, all the same.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, I have not!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Again with the A.I.D. project with @pencilofawesomeness, and more than that, some things we did in the past before the AO3 days...

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I'm not really a shipper? So, hard to say, but if I were to pick one, it might be Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, actually? That said, it completely flew over my head actually watching the show; the fondness comes from fandom content, honestly, as is the case with many such things XD

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oof, that is the question. I would like to think that I'll get back to everything in time (what I've published, at least), although there are a few old ones that I think I'll end up making much shorter than originally planned, Angeli Quaeritus included (that one haunts me hard...). Sonic Reloaded, however, is probably not going to happen at all, unfortunately. Same with the A.I.D. Files.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Huh...good question. Weaving introspection into the prose, maybe? Interweaving complicated plot elements and making stuff connect? Making multiple POVs work? I'm not really sure. I feel like a lot of this just goes into the way I like to write, as a matter of style. But the latter point is something I've actually been called out for fairly recently in comments by others, so...thank you? It was encouraging to hear, anyways!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fight scenes have always been tough. I think I'm better now than I used to be, but choreography is tough, and I applaud those who can make it work! Besides that I can struggle with being longwinded and not knowing where to put the worldbuilding in when there is some. Also character descriptions. As in, physical descriptions. How do I describe?? Fanfics spoil me in that I can get away with not really having to do that most of the time, since the main characters are usually known to the reader, but it still comes up.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't think I really have...? I can see where it can add to the immersion, but also, don't want readers to just...not understand what's going or have to use a translate app. Sometimes I will sprinkle in words in another language when I think that is the word that best describes the thing or it's a very specific cultural thing. I also will use Japanese honorifics for Japanese media sometimes, though not strictly. I'm not using it nearly as often as an actual speaker (or the canon media) would, but it feels right to throw it in at places, because that's what I hear in my head? And also, it's just far more specific than anything English has to translate it to? Although I'm not always consistent (and I've probably also been inaccurate at places too, admittedly). Like for instance with Twisted Wonderland, Cater will call Lilia "Lilia-chan", but the English localization just uses "Lils" to indicate a nickname, so I've also used "Lils" in writing Cater's speech, but on the other hand, I'll write Sebek as referring to Lilia as "sama" or "senpai" because that is just way more precise to what he means.

Also, speaking of Twisted Wonderland, it's canonical that Rook randomly peppers French into his speech, so...yeah. Things like that XD

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sonic the Hedgehog! Way, way long ago into yesteryear and long buried... Warrior Cat RPs came around at near the same time for me, though, I think...

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Honestly? I think that would have to be my current big project, And You Think, "No Escape". I'm just really, really glad with the way it's been turning out, and I'm almost done, too! Just a couple more chapters to go. Feels like a breakthrough for me as a writer... I've been at this for a long time, but it feels like it hasn't been until recently that I truly grasped my own style and how to make an executable idea, if that makes sense? But anyways, I like to call myself a found-family-loving whump writer who also likes a feel of action and adventure, and this fic is pretty much exactly that. The fandom inspired me by a lot, for sure. These characters grabbed hold of my heart and now I have a vested interest in seeing these boys talk about their feelings (not an easy task XD). It's been a wild ride, but yeah, I've had a blast!

+++

So...yeah! That! Now let's see... going to tag @resident-normal-person, @wintersphoenix, and @comfort-questing! No pressure, of course! Just if you want to! And also to anyone else who sees this and wants to, you may feel free to take it on!

#writing #tag game #fanfic #musings and thoughts #writing in general has been such a wild ride honestly #been such a long time since I was a small bean writing on [redacted]#and learning to write on text roleplays #my past [WIPs] haunts me #but even so #man I love this hobby so much :)

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soulventure91 · 1 year ago

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Diric has at LAST finished Act 2! One PC death and a remake later. [His choices, impressions, etc under the cut]

Entering the Shadow-Cursed Lands from the Underdark was different from his first go (emerging from the pass and lying to summon Kar'niss before siding with the Harpers at the ambush site), especially given the curse itself! But he saved the Harpers that initially appeared and gladly went to Last Light to meet Jaheira (and hearing Karlach squeal in fangirlish delight) and Isobel (protecting her from Marcus's ambush!), as well as reunite with the surviving tieflings from the Grove!

Speaking of re-meeting the survivors, Diric of course checked on Dammon and provided the second piece of infernal iron to help stabilize Karlach's engine! Diric gave her her first hug in ten years like the softie he is.

However, it was Wyll that fully captured Diric's heart as they danced one evening - this time Dir inviting Wyll to kiss him after stealing one off of him at the end of Act 1. This did mean Karlach had to have her heart broken because of her intense feelings for Dir (which he shares!!!) and was not going to share him with Wyll (but this is what post-game fic is for).

Getting into Moonrise was fairly straightforward thanks to the tadpoles - though witnessing Ketheric Thorm's immortality gave Diric huge pause. He avoided all conversation regarding the Prism and its contents (as far as he knew at the time) and instead slid out to clean out Reithwin of Thorm's twisted relations. In so doing, Dir then found Art Cullagh's lute and helped Halsin rescue Thaniel and Oliver in preparation of undoing Thorm's curse!

Definitely had to savescum a few times on entering the Gauntlet and meeting Balthazar - and deciding to off him right there in his office. [Pictured above: a failed attempt prior to reloading] But we got him down, and completed all of Shar's challenges successfully to enter the Shadowfell and come face to face with the Nightsong. SOMEHOW, Diric got a natural 20 against the initial DC 30 persuasion check to keep Shadowheart from killing Aylin! She was then freed and helped tremendously in battling Thorm at the top of Moonrise Towers - she practically soloed Thorm to drive him to the colony underground while Diric and friends clobbered the skeleton wizards, bone doggy, and True Soul necromancer. Of course Diric's military time came to the fore in the colony - save who you can, kill all else. So Zevlor and the two captured Flaming Fists were successfully saved, as well as Mizora.

Fighting Thorm himself was actually quite straightforward - after all, when you hit level 9 just prior to the descent, this saves a lot of rough HP gaps - even more so when you boost your CON! No need to reload as Shadowheart and Wyll dropped Flame Strikes and Gale unleashed an Ice Storm to buy Diric the necessary space to get to Aylin (even if he did try to hit Thorm a couple of times on the way and realized the immortality was back in effect). Even though I was ready for Shadowheart to pocket-heals for Aylin, that moonlight deva absolutely wrecked Thorm - even if Gale did finish him off with a well-placed Fire Bolt.

At least, until Myrkul decided to show up.

And yet! The party plus Aylin were speedy enough to take down the avatar in two rounds, with Diric finishing him off! Thus the Chosen of Myrkul got his ass beat. Diric tore off Thorm's Netherstone and heaved an exhausted sigh of relief. Even if there's an elder brain controlled by Chosen of two-thirds of the Dead Three running amok, plus an army of mind-controlled thralls with tadpoled lieutenants ready to transform into mind flayers on command.

But despite it all, the curse is lifted. And now Diric and friends head for Baldur's Gate...

...though waylaid by the revelation they're carrying a renegade mind flayer that likes to be called The Emperor as well as gith prince Orpheus inside the Astral Prism. And Diric has absolutely no intention, whatsoever, of evolving into a mindflayer.

But that's all farther down, deep in the streets of Baldur's Gate itself.

#bg3: diric vajon #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #GOOD TIMES ALL AROUND #and dir still has not found a full-time replacement for everburn so i think that's just. his sword forever lmao

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remidyal · 2 years ago

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Pure Self-Indulgence - My D20 Stuff Ranked

Last night, I published my 20th work of D20 fanfic. I had mentioned here that I was going to do something that was maybe the most purely self-indulgent thing I've ever done when this happened, and so I bring you:

Remi's D20 works, ranked from Nat 1 to Nat 20 by how much she likes them:

Nat 1 - Phases: The only one of these that isn't a story in and of itself, this is miscellanea (such as cut scenes and mechanics) from Lunacy. I LIKE all of it, but it's not actually something that can be read and enjoyed on its own, so by default it's the worst on this list.

2 - Runaway: The first piece of D20 writing I did, I like the core conceit here, but I've used pieces of it in other places since (Adaine being stuck in a palimpsest, Aelwyn as a runaway) and the writing feels really weak to me here now.

3 - Sisters: The lone Crown of Candy piece I've done, the plot just feels a little weak to me and my grasp of the tone for this setting isn't quite right. It's worth mentioning here that I by and large LIKE even the low entries on this list, at least currently. I think the summary of "Ruby Rocks was just short of her twenty-first nameday when she had the horrifying realization that she might be turning into her mother." is freaking great though and someone with more panache with these characters could do a really strong fic with that premise.

4 - Flames of Passion: This piece of almost pure crack, and the sole romance-focused fic on this list as well as (so far as I can tell) the only Kalvaxus/Gilear fanfic ever written, was done for a prompt. I don't regret it, but shockingly enough having an aroace writer write romance makes it just come across as bad romantic comedy lines, at least to herself. That might just add to the crack here. On a pure kudos front, this one gets a low number of kudos from signed in users versus guests, and I suspect that is purely people not wanting their names on this thing, which I thoroughly respect.

5 - Two Wolves: This oneshot was the prototype for Lunacy. I wound up liking this concept better than Runaway, and I think the writing is still somewhat better, but the story naturally feels incomplete now since it skims through the first nine or so chapters of what is going to end up as an 80+ chapter story. I think it can be read fine on its own, though.

6 - Waiting: I think this is where I go from 'eh it's okay but' to looking for reasons I like things less than others. This is a pretty silly little fic, and I like it fine, but it's not memorable to me in the way some of the other things I've written I feel are. It's a similar tone to something like Pact, but I don't think it's quite as successful at that tone.

7 - Minutes from the July Mordred Manor Wizards' Council Meeting: This, which EASILY wins the 'longest title' contest, is one where I think readers might have it a lot higher than I do. I like it fine? But it's pretty similar to Waiting in my mind; a nice little treat, but not really super substantial.

8 - Unending Summer: This post-Unsleeping City 2 fic focuses on Iga's kids as Nick is getting ready to start college. I think this is the breakpoint where things start getting really hard for me to rank these fics in the middle of this list; I genuinely love this one, but it's also just kind of a slice of life piece without an extensive plot or punchiness. That can be really nice, of course, depending on your mood. This (or the Poison sequels) is my least read piece, probably just because it's not fantasy high and it's focused on INCREDIBLY minor characters.

9 - Malignancy: The last entry in the Poison series, I'm not totally sure how the choose between two endings thing works and kind of wish I'd just forced the bad one on everyone, though both of them are kind of bad endings for Aelwyn. I think people may see the tags and think these are sincerely Penelope/Aelwyn romance pieces and be scared off, to be honest. They aren't. I fucking love this trilogy, though I think this is the weakest of the three.

10 - Twelve Hours: The most recent bit of writing on this list, this is honestly a placeholder to some degree. While I sometimes know while I'm publishing something that I love or don't fully like it, I don't have a solid read on how I'll feel about this one later. I definitely like the premise of Aelwyn + The Bad Kids just stuck with each other while the rest of the world is frozen around them though.

11 - Bane: We're picking nits a little bit here, but I think the weird double perspective where we're PoV of Aelwyn watching a video for most of the fic is a little bit awkward. I completely love the premise of what's going on here with Penelope, Adaine, and Aelwyn, though, and the purely downer ending leading into Malignancy.

12 - Dig Out: This might be the one where I've grown to like it more the most since publishing; it would have been near the very bottom of a similar list at the time I put it out. There's a comedic horror to the entire situation I really like, while still having a touch of sweetness to it. This is probably the fic on the list other than Pact/Familiar I'm most likely to follow up on sometime, to see how Jawbone and the other Bad Kids react to her return from the grave.

13 - Familiar: This one's new enough that it still might move or down the list. I think my main issue with this one that would stop it from moving up is a little bit of awkwardness in the pacing, which tends to be the weakness in these longer one-shots. Aelwyn's backstory in this is also depressing enough that it takes away a little bit from the overall tone that Pact and most of these story have, as well, for me.

14 - Gallivant's End: The highest entry on this list that isn't Fantasy High, this post-canon Starstruck fic following Riva is one I've grown to really love, in part because fic focused on Riva is pretty uncommon and I genuinely love them. I also think it was a REALLY bold choice by Siobhan to get to the end of a character arc and have the character look back and have regrets about losing some of their naivety, and that's the main thing this fic focuses on.

15 - Pact: I think this might be lower than people would expect for this fic, which might have gotten the best reception of anything I've written in the fandom. I do really really like it, but there are a few flaws and things I wish I'd done differently - mostly some additional scene on Adaine growing up in Hell - and so I'm not quite as fond as I am of the ones higher on this list.

16 - Poison: The first of the Penelope/Aelwyn trilogy, and my favorite of them. This one was done for a prompt wanting the relationship covered, and I thought that this relationship could be purely toxic; I've always written Aelwyn as hating and other than Kalina not respecting any of the other members of the conspiracy, though she hides that, and this comes out of that. (She also hates and doesn't really respect herself, but would NEVER acknowledge that at this point)

17 - Missing: This one's still a WiP, of course, and I don't have it NEARLY as planned out as I did and do Lunacy. Still, I love the premise, the multiclasses I've gone with, and also some of the near-term plans that I won't spoil here. Aelwyn actually trying to be just a little better and braver is fascinating partly because it's such a dangerous move for her in the short term, but the prize may be worth the risk…

18 - Dreams: This Riz-centered piece is maybe the one I love the most more than the response it seemed to generate, which was mostly pretty lukewarm. I suspect that may partly just be because it has some of the same pacing issues as most of the longer one-shots on this list, but I don't care. I loved writing this world's class swapped versions of characters, Adaine and Fig particularly, and I could have gone on like three times as long but this was written under the deadline of an exchange and I made myself hold to 10k or less words. I don't think I could return to this world, alas, because I love the ambiguity of the ending. (My personal interpretation is that both Kalina and the Sleeping God in this world are neutral, not evil, but the Bad Kids are VERY MUCH a cult of them at this point.)

19 - The Ghost of Me: This snappy little oneshot is my favorite short writing I've done in the fandom and it's not particularly close. I LOVE this version of Adaine, of her friends, and of her sheer raw pettiness in the wake of being executed by the Court of Stars.

Natural 20 - Lunacy: Probably no surprise, given that it's twice as long as the rest of the list combined, but this is my personal favorite work I've done. It's still a WiP and I've let off the gas because it's a bit of a rougher stretch, but I know the ending sequence of events and I'm deeply looking forward to sharing this one with all of you. Werewolf Adaine is maybe the most natural AU in all of Dimension 20, and I LOVE exploring it; Werewolf Aelwyn is a bit more of a stretch from there, but I'm delighted to have done it and love the versions of both of those characters that inhabit this fic.

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #fanfic #sorry #pure self indulgence

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