#i need decay to reunite please

[likesummerrainn]

"It's Janice!"

TNA Genesis 2012 // IMPACT 02.23.23 // TNA Genesis 2025

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

The Decay of Complex Characters and Character Development in Helluva Boss (Stolas and Octavia’s Relationship: Part 2 of 2)

Part 1 here

I felt I had to make separate part just for “Seeing Stars” because my other post was getting way too long, and I wanted to really focus on the treatment of Stolas and Octavia’s by the writers.

Please know that this is JUST my opinion and not a personal attack on HB’s writers or creators. I’m talking and venting a bit about my personal frustrations with the series regarding what I perceive as being MAJOR plot holes and inconsistencies in the show’s writing.

As of right now—and I do want to acknowledge this could change, but as of right now—it largely seems like any character development Stolas may have gone through after “Loo Loo Land” has been completely tossed out the window.

I personally believe that the writers of Helluva Boss think that they are writing Stolas to be more complex, but he has yet to have to actually be held accountable for his actions, and for breaking his promises to Octavia.

And the way the writers present him has really come to bother me. So I wanted to talk more about it, and about how Stolas cannot become a well-written, complex, and engaging character until the writers let him actually be imperfect and complex.

To talk about this more in depth, I gotta go over the second episode that features Octavia, Season 2, Episode 2 of Helluva Boss—“Seeing Stars”

(TLDR at the end)

To start, “Seeing Stars” is narratively very similar to “Loo Loo Land”. By “very similar” I mean that it’s almost the exact same plot, but frustratingly more clunky. Here is an extremely short summary:

The main crux of the conflict in “Seeing Stars” is that Stolas forgot about a promise he made to Octavia to go see a meteor shower, and ends up neglecting her.

Specifically, he forgets because he is too busy yelling at Stella over the phone due to their contentious divorce. Octavia feels let down by her father again, and runs away to the human realm to see the meteor shower on her own.

Stolas and I.M.P. panic and go after her. Eventually Loona finds her and gives her a speech that essentially boils down to: “everyone’s got hardships and problems but Dads ESPECIALLY have problems. Your Dad is trying really hard right now. So that should count for something right?”

And that comforts Octavia in the moment. Octavia and Stolas reunite, he asks her why she ran away, and she tells him she was trying to see the meteor shower he promised to take her to. Stolas is horrified that he’d forgotten, starts to apologize, but Octavia cuts him off and tells him “it’s okay”, forgiving him.

I rewatched “Seeing Stars” before making this post to make sure I hadn’t misremembered any crucial plot points.

I thought I remembered that, at the very end of the episode, Stolas apologized to Octavia for breaking his promise and then she told him it was okay.

It turns out I had misremembered things, because the writers literally kept Stolas from saying sorry.

This leads to the main criticism I have of Stolas as a character, especially from a writing standpoint. The narrative does not allow for Stolas to ever truly be in the wrong, or for anyone, including Stolas, to fully acknowledge that he is in the wrong.

And I know that it’s easy to go “BUT LOOK! Octavia says “I know, Dad”! She KNOWS that Stolas is sorry.

That’s fair, but for me personally, I think an EARNEST and verbal apology is needed here to show that Stolas has grown.

I’m very lucky in that I have a good relationship with my parents, but that doesn’t mean we never fought or they never said or did things that hurt me.

I distinctly remember a time when my Mom was apologizing to me for something she did, I said “it’s okay” and she immediately replied “No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me”.

That really changed my perspective on conflict. I think a lot of people, including myself until then, consider “it’s okay” to be a form of saying “I forgive you”. And I’m not trying to police like…basic language and substitute words. But I DO strongly believe in taking responsibility for when you hurt someone.

In all honesty, I think this scene actually could have worked for Stolas’ character development if he had actually acknowledged that, “No, it’s not. It’s not okay that I broke my promise to you. I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me, but if you can’t right now, I understand.”

THAT, to me, shows character development. That would’ve shown that Stolas is, at the very least, trying to make an actual effort to change for the sake of Octavia.

Instead, though, SHE apologizes Stolas for running away to try and see the meteor shower that HE promised to take her to. And the writers refuse to even let Stolas say he’s sorry.

Let Stolas say he’s sorry, writers! Let Stolas be in the wrong!!! I promise it won’t make people hate his character!

I mean, jfc, just look at the fandom around Hazbin’s Valentino. That guy could not be more evil if he tried and a lot of fans can’t seem to get enough of him.

My other issue with the treatment of Octavia in this episode, SPECIFICALLY the speech that Loona gives Octavia near the end.

Because. Oof. There’s a lot to unpack. Firstly:

Maybe it’s just me, but I find the way the writers have Loona frame this situation as being really really weird. To be clear, I don’t think it starts off too badly. Everyone DOES have issues, and that can affect the way they act and treat others and make mistakes.

That said, dads are not inherently more messed up or dealing with more difficulties than anyone else.

Dads have issues the same as any other person, but they don’t get special privileges or passes because they’re dads. They’re responsible for themselves like every other person with issues and difficulties, and they’re still responsible for themselves and their mistakes.

It’s especially frustrating because the writers are using Stolas’ “issues” as a crutch to excuse their bad behavior. This happens a lot with writers trying to excuse or justify their character’s actions. The “issues” can be anything from a difficult childhood, relationship troubles or divorce, a traumatic experience, etc. but these things should never be used as a way to excuse a character’s every mistake and flaw.

Effective writing will use a character’s history to explain the reasons a character acts or behaves a certain way, not excuse that behavior. This leads to characters that the audience can become more invested in, and can form different opinions or interpretations about.

A really great example of this is Bojack Horseman, whose terrible upbringing and abuse definitely garner audience sympathy, but the writers never use this to as a justification for the Bojack’s behaviors. Bojack continually makes really terrible choices that hurt the people he cares about the most, and while we as the audience still sympathize with him to an extent, we still get frustrated with Bojack, and be disappointed by him.

The audience finally gets some catharsis from this frustration when Bojack is called out by his best friend Todd for this, after he finally breaks any remaining trust in their friendship with the following quote:

“You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep doing shitty things, and then feel bad about yourself like that makes it okay! You need to be better! [Bojack apologizes and then continues to make excuses] …BoJack, stop. You are all the things that are wrong with you. It's not the alcohol, or the drugs, or any of the shitty things that happened in your career, or when you were a kid—It's you. Alright? It's you. Fuck, man. What else is there to say?”

In my opinion, Helluva Boss’ writers seem to be determined to write the exact opposite of this sentiment.

The writers frame Loona’s speech to Octavia as a heartwarming moment—a moment where Loona helps Octavia realize that Stolas cares about her and is trying his best, so Octavia should cut him some slack.

This is, quite frankly, a BAFFLING scene because Loona’s behavior for the ENTIRE EPISODE is her assaulting and yelling at her dad. Like, she has given Blitzø absolutely NO slack before this moment, and then doesn’t give him any in the scene DIRECTLY after this, where she assaults him again while he’s in the middle of apologizing to her.

Not only is it odd to have Loona tell Octavia all of this and then not act on it herself, but the whole scene really reads as the writers trying to sweep Octavia’s very valid and real feelings of hurt over her father’s neglect under the rug.

And look. Trying to be better can be important. Trying to change and be better IS worthy of being acknowledged. But at a certain point, as Todd points out to Bojack, you have to actually be better.

In part 1, I talked about how the end of “Looloo Land” had set things up for Stolas to start being more conscientious of Octavia’s feelings and needs. He took the first step of making amends with her, of listening to her and her concerns and fears.

“Seeing Stars” was an episode that could have shown him being better. But instead. Well.

In her speech to Octavia Loona says this:

And to be fair, Loona didn’t know what hijinks Stolas and Blitzø were getting up to in the city. She probably did think Stolas was looking for her.

…Except…he kind of wasn’t…

During the search for Octavia, Blitzø gets mistaken for a famous Hollywood actor, and he and Stolas are essentially kidnapped to be in a sitcom. When this first happens, Stolas is anxious, clearly upset that there search has been further impeded:

He’s scared that Octavia could be in danger, or hurt. Stolas seemingly wants to find her as soon as possible.

Well. Once they get to the Hollywood sitcom shoot, the following scenes happen:

STOLAS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???? YOU JUST SAID THAT YOU DIDNT HAVE TIME FOR THIS ??? BLITZØ DIDNT EVEN WANT TO PERFORM, AND YOU MADE HIM! WHY?!?! YOU DONT OWE THESE PEOPLE ANYTHING? THE TV PRODUCER EVEN LEFT THE ROOM BEFORE THE SHOW STARTED, NO ONE WAS KEEPING YOU THERE!!!

WHY ARE YOU INVESTED IN THIS AND WORRIED ABOUT THE AUDIENCE NOT LAUGHING?!?! STOLAS YOU LITERALLY JUST SAID YOUR DAUGHTER COULD BE IN DANGER IN THE VAN, WHY ARE YOU SUDDENLY SO CONCERNED WITH MAKING BLITZØ ACT IN THIS SITCOM???? STOLAS YOU DONT KNOW WHERE YOUR FUCKING DAUGHTER IS?!?!?

I just…I’m sorry, I just think this episode is so so clunky and so poorly written. I think it may be one of the episodes with the least consistent character writing.

The scene continues, Stolas gets distracted by how attractive he finds Blitzø, and Blitzø acts in the sitcom for so long that even Stolas looks bored and out of it.

At this point in the story, he doesn’t know where his daughter is, if she’s hurt, or in danger, or even why she ran away in the first place. But instead of that taking the absolute top priority for him, he takes time to watch Blitzø make bad jokes in a wig for the whole afternoon.

Stolas isn’t even the one to get them out of the Hollywood studio, Blitzø is. Blitzø has a panic attack about the thought of Loona being taken from him during the sitcom shoot, and that’s what sparks them escaping.

The two escape the studio and meet up with Octavia and Loona, and the episode ends with Octavia apologizing for running away, and Stolas not having to apologize to her for his mistakes because Octavia already knows he’s sorry.

In Part 1, I talked about how at the end of “Loo Loo Land”, the writers set up the building blocks for Stolas’s character development in regards to his relationship with Octavia. S1 E2 of Helluva Boss ends with Stolas listening to his daughter, realizing his actions hurt her, and acting like he’s going to start putting her first.

“Seeing Stars” undoes all of that development. Which wasn’t even that much character development in the first place. Just the kicking off point for Stolas’ growth as a character.

Reviewing this episode made me realize that Stolas’ character development may have actually regressed. He doesn’t keep his promise to Octavia, he starts flirting with Blitzø when he should be looking for her, and wastes valuable time fucking around with Blitzø on a sitcom set.

And listen, I KNOW that Blitzø got Loona to look for Octavia right after he and Stolas got kidnapped by the tv producers. But after they get out of the Van, WHY does Stolas just continue to go along with it? He was so concerned and scared for Via before, wouldn’t he want to get back to looking for her as soon as possible?? And have as many people as possible working on finding her???

Blitzø doesn’t even want to go on the sitcom and for some reason Stolas makes him! The tv producer had left the room at that point too, and Stolas is a DEMON PRINCE, no one was keeping them there!

Stolas gives the reason for Blitzø needing to perform to be “so they can get back to looking for Via” but they can just do that without having to be in the sitcom?

I think the writers might have written dramatic irony into the story without meaning to? Loona tells Octavia that “[Stolas is] down there. Looking for you”, but we as the audience know that’s not true. Stolas wasn’t looking for his daughter. He was watching Blitzø star in a bad sitcom for 5 hours.

This becomes extra frustrating and gut-wrenching for me when I think about Octavia right before Loona’s speech about how “dads are special and have it extra extra bad and try extra extra hard and that’s super important, even if they fuck up and hurt you”

This scene is absolutely heartbreaking to me. This is a 17 year old girl who has been repeatedly let down by one of the people she looked up to and relied upon the most, who rightfully feels abandoned and like she no longer has a home.

Specifically the line “Why does he hate [my mum] more than he loves me?” hits extra hard.

I don’t know what it’s like to have divorced parents, but I can imagine that anyone who has may have had this exact thought. Octavia needs support more now than ever, and keeps getting let down by the adults around her, and it just breaks my heart to see this young vulnerable girl not really have anyone who acknowledges that what Stolas did was hurtful. That it wasn’t okay, and that she’s allowed to be upset about it.

The reason she exists in the story isn’t to be her own person and to have character development of her own. She exists just to be Stolas’ daughter, and to forgive him for his wrongdoings and make him seem like a “good” person because even though he has issues, he still loves her! That makes him a good dad!

And I don’t know how Octavia is broadly accepted in the HB fandom, but I’ve heard that she may not be liked very well, and I don’t understand how anyone could see this scene and think she’s annoying or terrible.

Honestly, I would NOT be as frustrated and disappointed by the writing in this episode, if the writers and the fandom at large didn’t treat this episode like it had a heartwarming and satisfying resolution. If the writers treated Stolas as a complex person who is able to make mistakes, and who still really needs to own up to his actions and take responsibility for his broken promises, I would probably like him a lot more as a complex and nuanced character.

But the way the writers frame Stolas as being in the right, or being the victim, or being fully justified in all his actions isn’t just bad writing. It’s boring. Stolas is a boring character because the writers do not allow him to be in the wrong, to be morally ambiguous or dark, or to be called out or held accountable for his mistakes.

The writers MAY somehow undo the damage they already did in “Seeing Stars”, but given the way that the writers, show creators, and fandom go out of their way to excuse any morally grey, questionable, or harmful decisions Stolas makes, I’m not going to hold my breath.

TLDR:

-Despite Octavia being hurt by Stolas again, the writers refuse to put him in any situation where he’s held accountable for his mistakes

-The writers use Stolas’ “issues” to excuse away his bad behavior. And specify that Octavia should cut Stolas some slack because he’s a dad and being a dad is extra hard I guess?

-the framing of the episode acts like Stolas did everything in his power to look for Octavia when he clearly didn’t (he was goofing off with Blitzø)

-Stolas is ultimately uninteresting and not engaging as a character because the writers go out of their way to excuse his behavior and mistakes even when he’s in the wrong.

-Stolas cannot be a complex character if he is always absolved of the consequences of his actions and is not allowed by the writers to be better (in my opinion)

Also sidebar—WHY DID HE NOT CALL OCTAVIA ON HER PHONE!?!

In the VERY first episode of HB Stolas is LITERALLY INTRODUCED TO US by calling Blitzø on his phone and watching Blitzø in the human world from hell, without the use of his Grimoire!! HE HAS THE POWER TO DO THAT!!!

I was like, maybe Octavia didn’t have her phone for a SECOND before remembering that LOONA FINDS OCTAVIA BY LOOKING AT THE PICTURES SHES POSTING TO SOCIAL MEDIA WITH HER PHONE.

Like Stolas do you not know ur own daughters phone number. AND YOURE GIVING BLITZØ A HARD TIME ABOUT NOT KNOWING MOXXIE’S?? Also when Blitzø is in danger you can pinpoint his exact location, travel to the human world without the grimoire terrify and reveal your existence to MULTIPLE humans with absolute disregard for being discovered, but when your OWN DAUGHTER is missing and you have NO idea why or if she’s in danger, suddenly you have time to run around LA for a day getting into shenanigans???? She’s your DAUGHTER. No wonder she doesn’t think you care about her because I sure as hell don’t after that episode. Lord.

[yandere-fics]

♡ Being Intimate With Veronia For The First Time Since She Returned To Life ♡

(this wasn't gross enough but I wanted to focus on fluff after the last Veronia one.)

You struggled to allow yourself to touch Veronia in the way since she'd returned, sure she was nowhere near decayed, she looked the same on the surface apart from the bruise on the side of her jaw that lingered from where you hit her on the side of the head but you could tell she was different and it scared you that your touch, the hands that caused this in the first place would cause it to become worse. Her skin was a degree colder than regular and as she ate you would often see her tongue dangle out longer than it ever had been. Her scales dropped more often than they would have before, no one else would notice these minor changes, except you were her lover, you'd be even worse if you hadn't noticed how glazed over her eyes appeared at times.

Veronia wasn't dumb however, she realized when you two bathed in the hot spring you bit your lip as you washed her scales barely touching her at all and almost crying when she turned around to rub your arms gently, holding back any sounds when she tweaked your nipples as she washed, try to initiate something and sighing when you acted naive to her advances. And so this had to end tonight.

"Vero, what're you-" She cut you off pushing you against the blanket nest in her cave, slithering her tongue into your mouth until you couldn't breath properly. It tasted... it was different, slimier than before but you whimpered as you realized it was still your lover, it was a slightly weirder taste but you'd recognize it was hers no matter what and that alone made you burst into tears, wrapping your arms around her neck, "Vero...."

"Shh, let it out dearest," She used her nail to cut your clothing off, her trousers around tossed across the cave though she kept on her cloak since you often told her how comforting you found it. She grabbed her cocks in one hand beginning to push them in, she had thought about going with just one however with how hard you were clinging she felt as though you needed to feel her completely even if it was a painful stretch. You held yourself back from scratching her back, it likely wouldn't leave a mark, any scrape she got since coming back had healed but even if it did leave a mark she wouldn't care and she had to fuck that into your stupid little head.

"Vero, I'm so sorry..." You often clung to her crying and whispering this in her ear as you clung to her in the night however she could tell that you were apologizing for not allowing her to touch you for the past few months you'd been reunited. Her cocks were different, curvier than before and you could feel they were much leakier than they had been previously still you could never hate anything about her, especially when they hit that special spot in you exactly the same as they had before, sure they were colder than before, noticeably colder than the entirety of her body but you didn't hate that change either.

"Shhh, just please let me have you, I need to feel you cling to me as tight as you can, I need my dearest's fingernails digging into my back." She emphasized it with a particularly harsh thrust, rolling her eyes back as you nodded clinging onto her, your nails finally digging in to her back as she came inside you grunting and rubbing your clit furiously when she realized she had accidentally cum before you, don't worry though now that you had your lives back she would make sure to take care of your every need so long as you let her.

[sweetsummercourier]

I finished Tears of the Kingdom, so here are my thoughts

I recently finished Tears of the Kingdom and wow... wow! The game was beautiful all the way through. As such, I'd like to talk about my experience and thoughts.

DISCLAIMER: this post contains spoilers for the game. Read at your own risk.

Additionally, please don't take my opinions too seriously. I'm just someone on the internet. You don't have to agree or disagree but please be respectful.

Without further ado...

Overview:

Tears of the Kingdom is a beautiful game. Absolutely beautiful, from the designs to the scores to the gameplay. All of it, beautiful.

That being said, it took some adjusting. I missed having the convenience of our elemental and bomb arrows, I missed not having to pay for every time I wanted armor upgraded, and I missed not having to fight against the RNG to get items I needed for upgraded armor. The map did have some changes that took getting used to, and some of my favorite ingredient/monster part hunting spots were no longer there, so that sucked.

But it fits the story, I find. I like how the weapons changed due to the Upheaval (though I'm a bit confused as to how bows aren't decayed), how the monsters evolved and the new monsters that came, and how the Great Fairies function — we learned in Breath of the Wild that rupees gave them power, and I found that it made more sense to pay for the upgrades instead of just a one time payment.

That being said, while TOTK takes place some time after the events of BOTW, there were some things that left me feeling empty. What happened to all the guardians? The Divine Beasts? The Sheikah towers and the shrines? The Sheikah Slate? It just seems weird to me that they would just vanish without an explanation... especially the Beasts.

On top of that, I missed the Champions. I was thrilled to see that Mipha was still a big part of Zora's Domain and with Sidon's plotline, and I love her water gardens, but I was so scared when I didn't see her statue at first.

But to continue, while it makes sense for the Zora to keep Mipha very much alive considering how beloved she is, it felt strange that the other three weren't mentioned at all. Teba has a Great Eagle Bow, and Tulin can create gusts of wind, but no concrete to homage to Revali. Riju had dual Scimitar of the Seven, which Urbosa wielded, but she's not mentioned. Heck, Yonobo is the grandchild of Daruk (source is the Creating a Champion artbook), yet Daruk's Protection has disappeared and he's not mentioned at all.

Don't get me wrong, I understand why they wouldn't be prominent. TOTK is not BOTW, and the Champions and Divine Beasts are no longer the center focus. Still, it feels weird that they were expunged entirely. At least we have those cool helms!

Regional Phenomenon Questline:

I'm going to break this down the way I completed them... which was in the exact same way as I did in BOTW! Why not, it was fun. And also, the first region will allow me to address a big elephant in the room...

Zora's Domain and the Water Temple

Zora's Domain was the first region I completed in both games, and I was so happy to be back. I love the score in the Domain, I just find it so soothing... and it's the home of my favorite fish people!

I found it super goofy that Bazz was trapped under sludge. Like sir, you didn't see that falling? You didn't look up? At least he was ok in the end. King Dorephan being alive gave me a lot of relief. Don't get me wrong, in the trailers I was stoked to see Sidon as king, but what happened to his big ol' dad? I also love his new outfit after he gives his son the crown. Also, I love how to reveal the new statue of Sidon and Link, you have to clean it and then boom — Link riding Sidon statue.

Can I just say I love Sidon's new attire? It looks so good on him. I love the little navy blue addition to his ascots and I'm very happy to see they kept the whistle. Sidon is a big comfort character of mine, so reuniting with him first was like chicken soup for the soul. I also love the water manipulation ability. It's a very cool ability to have and it's very fitting for the Zora (naturally). A little sad he doesn't dual wield spears like he had in AOC, but regardless, he's great. He's great. I love Sidon. He's a card.

Now, with the Water Temple, I found it just a bit underwhelming. It's beautifully designed, don't get me wrong, and I love his ancestor and how Sidon gets his secret stone on his glove and he gives Link his vow (I don't ship Sidlink but that was fruity). But what I found underwhelming was the boss. Compared to the others, having the goofy Mucktorok felt a little... hmm... it was a fun fight, however! I did have fun! For my, compared to Waterblight Ganon from BOTW and the Scourges in the other temples, to me, it felt a little subpar.

Now I've addressed this before but now that I've played through and can make a better statement than my previous one a lot better... let's talk about Yona.

I like her! She's super cute! I have grown attached to her style and her character, and she has such a sweet little theme. My only big issue with her is, I find her to be one dimensional. Now, I'm not attacking her or hating on her. I think Yona as a character has an immense amount of potential, the writing for her is just... a little bland. The romantic subplot with her and Sidon and her story feels lackluster. I think, if they wanted to show Sidon's fear of losing someone else, someone he loves, I have the perfect man for the job — King Dorephan. Dorephan is his father, and the last remaining family Sidon has left. With Dorephan actually injured, I find it would make more sense for that subplot to be about their father-son bond. Maybe after finding out Dorephan is injured and in hiding, Sidon goes to find his father and it's Dorephan who tells him to be strong and to help link. In my opinion, that's more plausible.

Back to my original thought, I wish Yona had more development as a character. It's very clear she means a lot to Sidon and vice versa, but I wish there was more instead of her just being thrown in. If she's his dearest friend since childhood, I would have loved to have heard more about her in BOTW. I just want to know more about her. I want to see more character in her. And yes, to address the whole marriage debate — yes, Sidon saw her as a sister, and yes his feelings "became difficult to quantify." Feelings are changing all the time. In my opinion, it feels weird to someone who considers another family to suddenly fall in love with them. But that's just me.

To the Sidona shippers: y'all rock. While I personally don't ship Sidona, I support y'all. I am in love with all the artwork and writing I have found of them, and the way I look at it, it's more art of Sidon I get to enjoy. This is a Yona hate free zone, I will not entertain Yona hate.

To the other shippers, Sidlink and all: it's canon, we cannot change it. But! AUs exist. Headcanons exist. Heck, if Yona bothers you that much, ignore her all together. Nothing is going to stop you from shipping Sidlink and Sidon with ocs, so please be positive and keep doing what you're doing. I myself will continue making art and writing of my oc/canon ship with Sidon and my OC, because that's what makes me happy. I have some art and stories of them I plan to share, and I really hope you like them too :)))

Rito Village and the Wind Temple

Now, back on track after my tangent about Yona. The Rito Village was the second location I tackled and oh my god, I got a kick out of the kids running the village. I love how they tried to help keep the town in order while the adults were trying to find the source of the blizzard and gather supplies.

I was super relieved to find Teba alright, I know we were all afraid that he was dead or something considering he wasn't in the trailer. But I love Teba very much, and I was thrilled to see him again.

Tulin is PRECIOUS. My little nephew. I love how he looks fully-fledged, and he's such a sweet li'l rascal... and the fact his quiver has his parents' feathers on there, it is such a cute gesture.

Quick aside, I love Penn, but I MISS KASS... where did he go... I miss hearing his accordion.

The Wind Temple, I find, was the most challenging to get to. I remember stacking three Zonai springs together at one point just to get to where I needed to go because for the life of me I could not get that one floating rock. I loved the bouncy sails on the ships. It gave me the kinda vibes a bouncy castle does.

The temple being the Stormwind Arc and not an actual building was delicious. A very nice touch. That being said, I love how different all the temples are: we have one in the sky that's actually a temple, the other is a flying ship, there's a temple in the depths, and then one on good ol' terra firma.

I LOVE the design of Colgera. Granted, I did do the temple at night, so it did scare me just a bit. It was a lot of fun to fight, and the cutscene of the sky becoming clear with Teba on Revali's Landing was perfect. It was a very sweet scene to add, when Tulin received his father's bow, the Great Eagle Bow, and the scarf as a nod to Revali. I wish the bow Teba made for me had the scarf...

Goron City and the Fire Temple

I personally miss that region flowing with lava. I felt it really drove home how hot the mountain is and the environment the Goron lived in, but it's much easier to traverse and it's nice to see there's still lava in the deeper caves.

I adore Yunobo, and seeing him become rude made me so sad. That's not my boy! I wanted my boy back! Making me fight him was not cool! He's such a good, kind character that it legit made me so sad to see him possessed by that mask.

I'll admit... I cheated the Fire Temple. I love the music score in that temple, and I had a lot of fun there, but I'll be the first to admit that I did not care for the mine cart system. I just climbed to where I needed to go. I'm sorry, that system really confused me and my ADHD was having none of it. So I figured I'd just cut to the chase and just climb.

I really like how the checkpoints were gongs, and having Yunobo barrel into them was very reminiscent of how we had to launch him to drive off Vah Rudania in BOTW.

The boss for the temple, left me feeling a little underwhelmed like the Mucktorok. Just break Marbled Gohma's legs and then beat the shit out of it. I can't say it wasn't entertaining though use Yunobo like that as if we were bowling.

The fist bump for the vow was such a quirky touch for Yunobo. I love it. It was really so sweet. And I love seeing Yunobo's resolve to become a stronger individual. His character growth from being a timid Goron in BOTW to now, I'm so proud of him. I feel like a proud mom.

Gerudo Town and the Lightning Temple

The gibdos absolutely terrified me. I ran into them not realizing the were there on my first time going to Gerudo town and I did not think to use elemental anything so when my most powerful weapons didn't make a dent, I panicked. Though admittedly, the moth gibdo wings are very pretty... still terrifying. I'm just glad we didn't have redeads.

Riju is SO pretty. I love her new hairstyle. At first I really missed her long hair, but she rocks her new short style. I've always loved Riju, and her reintroduction.

The Lightning Temple had to be one of, if not my favorite temple. I found it had the most difficult puzzles for me to solve, and I enjoyed that. I found I was using my brain a lot more for that temple than the others... and I died in a lot of stupid ways because sometimes the most obvious solution isn't that clear to me.

As someone who is very afraid of bugs, Queen Gibdo did not do it for me. She very much gave me the heebie jeebies... but it was nice to watch the sandstorm fade away from the Gerudo desert, for Riju to return to the throne room in the town, and for the Gerudo to leave the emergency shelter and return to their daily lives.

Overall the Regional Phenomenal questline was a lot of fun, and I enjoyed myself.

The Dragon's Tears Questline:

This fucked me up. Learning about Zelda's time in the past leading up to her becoming the Light Dragon actually made me cry. It was fun to discover the geoglyphs and have them become a permanent part of the map, but oof... my heart.

I cried when Sonia died, and it hurt so much when there was the scene of Rauru at her grave. All of it was just heart wrenching, especially Zelda became a dragon after Mineru "died" and found shelter in the Purah Pad. When Zelda screamed for Link to "protect them all" as her eyes changed... oof... ruin me.

Crisis at Hyrule Castle and the Sixth Sage:

I think it was pretty obvious for me that the Zelda we had been seeing wasn't really Zelda. Running around Hyrule Castle in an attempt to reach her, only to fight monster forces was not a very pleasant affair, and the Phantom Ganon fights were also a bit of a pain, albeit fun nontheless.

I loved how the Sages came to Link's aid in the end. It made the game feel a lot less lonely. It made me very happy to see them there protecting Link. It really gave you a sense of how much they care about him, and what he means to them.

Finding the Sixth Sage was a lot of running around that I made much more difficult because I forgot the mask when I found it, so I had to go all the way back to get it, and I didn't realize I had to put the mask in the construct, so cut to me spending an hour trying to get the limbs for the robot when the depots weren't activated yet... oops.

I absolutely adore Mineru. She is so pretty, and I love her voice. I love how her character ties in the past and present, and how she fits so well in the story. And riding her construct was a lot of fun... the boss fight for her secret stone took me a hot minute to figure out... I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometime, so when I pushed the Ganon-controlled construct into the electric fence, I was legit surprised that that was what I was supposed to do.

Defeating Ganondorf:

First off, I would like to say I miscalculated how thick the pillar was on the way down into the Depths from Hyrule castle and I shattered Link's body on the side of it the first time I dove down. It was honestly really funny. It also was a strange disconnect at first as I made my way down to Ganon, because I did not realize how DEEP underground Zelda and Link went to even find this formerly dehydrated prune to begin with.

I was... SO happy and excited that I got to fight alongside the other Sages before going to fight Ganon. It felt so euphoric, like the culmination of all our efforts was coming to fruition and we were all finally comrades in arms. It felt way more personal than the fight with Calamity Ganon in BOTW.

Being separated from them made me so sad. It felt really helpless, watching Link being trapped in the cave while the others fought. Like no don't leave me!

But the final fight, from the beginning to the end, was STELLAR. For the Sages to rejoin us and we fight him all together?! Yes please! Granted his second form's extended life bar def gave me Dark Souls vibes, which is one of my favorite franchises (including Bloodborne) so that was fitting. Though watching my friends be thrown to the side had me scared there for a second.

Watching him become the Demon Dragon, as an individual who recently graduated with a degree in animation with a specialty in effects, was so tasty. And to watch it emerge from beneath Hyrule castle... I can only imagine what it felt like to watch it like that... and for the clearly much smaller Light Dragon come to rescue us... chills. Literal chills. The score for that cutscene was perfect. And for Link, in the face of dragon, to draw the Master Sword like no big deal? Incredible.

Fighting the Demon Dragon alongside the Light Dragon, and to watch it be destroyed was incredible. And for Link to receive his arm back and Zelda returning to normal, for Link to finally grab Zelda's hand and hold her as they fell into the water only to carry her out again... I'm a huge Zelink fan, so that made my heart soar.

The Ending:

The ending itself was beautiful. I was so moved when the current Sages gave the same pledge to Zelda as their ancestors had to Rauru, and I legit cried when Mineru moved on to the afterlife. It was sentimental, and beautiful. I don't think I could have asked for a better ending.

Final Thoughts:

This game... was stunning. It was everything I could have asked for in a sequel to Breath of the Wild. And sure, there are plenty of things to nitpick about, but I had such a positive experience, I'm not even going to bother with all of that.

It was a thrilling and fresh experience, and I enjoyed myself very much.

With that being said, I know we're all looking for DLC and another game. In my personal opinion, I think Tears of the Kingdom did a very good job of wrapping up this story. I'm all down for DLC, but I personally think BOTW and TOTK doesn't need a third game. I think the story these two games portrayed, from the story of the Champions and Calamity Ganon to the climax of defeating Ganon and saving Hyrule, is completed with the conclusion of TOTK.

Of course, that's all up for Nintendo, but I am satisfied with this. I'm very happy. I could not ask for more.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! I appreciate you sticking it out with my silly little ramblings. I really hope you all enjoy Tears of the Kingdom as much as I did, and I am always down for discussions and stuff in regards to this!

Just a little reminder: I'm just one person on the internet. Please be respectful of my opinions!

And with all that, in mind, I hope you all have a wonderful day. And now, to play both games all over again.

Courier out.

[musamora]

𝖒𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 「𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔲 𝔡𝔞𝔷𝔞𝔦」 ༉‧₊˚

content. gn!reader. hurt/comfort, major character injury, angst with a happy ending, comas, alcohol, implied/referenced self-harm, cuddling, kisses, comfort, post-vampire outbreak. not proofread. 1.9k+ words.

author's note. i'm back much sooner than i expected! moving into uni has been absolutely kicking my ass, but the love and support that i've received from you all has made my day! updates will be infrequent, but please feel free to submit asks (at the time of posting). i'd love to have an influx of ideas (though i'm currently prioritizing the original requests in my inbox, and i'm in a particular hurt/comfort and protective mood). this is one of the few times i won't have a limit on requests in my inbox, so go bananas (but not too bananas).

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

synopsis. you haven't lost him yet. it had come so close, but life continued to cling to him. some time may be needed to heal the wounds that come with a dance with death, but as long as you are with him, you don't mind so much.

Everything was over. No more vampires. No more One Order.

The Decay of Angels had been defeated. Kamui had been defeated.

With the combined resolve of the Armed Detective Agency members and the surplus of determination from valiant citizens prepared to throw caution to the window and place their lives on the line for a chance to liberate their world, the extinction of humanity had been prevented. It had been a backbreaking hellscape of pain and suffering, but it had been accomplished. And with that, the ADA had been upheld within both public and private circles with the highest regard, both due to admiration for their contributions to the crisis but also out of shame because of the global assumption that they were terrorists. 

You were hunkered down by a 5th-story window overlooking the citizens of Yokohama as they overtook the streets, celebrating. Some clutched onto each other tight, weeping about the lives that were lost in the massacre. Others practically screamed once they saw each other, singing their praises to the heavens above. Shrieks of pure relief trumpeted throughout the street as people reunited with their missing loved ones, cries of mirth echoed from opened windows, and a faint jumble of different radios blended into the background to complete the scene.

“This is all thanks to you, my love,” you whispered, though you couldn’t muster the heart to turn around. You wouldn’t even join the celebrations; you didn’t have the strength for it. Not now. You couldn’t even manage a meager smile for more than a few minutes, despite your incessant attempts to appease the concerns of both your fellow co-workers and your boss. They would visit from time to time, some in pairs and some alone.

Atsushi and Kyoka always visited together, bringing with them bowls upon bowls of steaming chazuke and stuffed animals that felt like clouds drifting upon the ground. It was one of the few moments when you had cracked an authentic smile—because, at the end of the day, they were only two innocent kids. Despite the trauma and terror they had faced and the lessons they had learned, they didn't know what to do in this situation. But the endearing sight of them covering the room with cheap, dollar-store flowers brightened your day, even if only by a bit.

The Tanizaki siblings also visited together, which possibly broke your sanity even further. They brought along the usual distractions that came with their peculiar relationship, effectively fracturing the monotony of the day with antics that made you more than a little squeamish. While you appreciated, or more like tolerated, their efforts to reprieve you from your perpetual worries, you would've rather sat in your silence. 

Kunikida was the one who visited the most out of everyone, on the same days and at the same time. He ensured that you had properly taken care of yourself—which you hadn't—and that you had eaten a proper meal—which you rarely did. Doctors and nurses were startled by the yells that boomed from inside the room, but you knew better than to be mad. He may be a harsh and stubborn man, but you knew that deep down, he was only concerned.

Yosano snuck booze into the room whenever she swung by, though a drinking session was always followed by a roulette of genuine advice. You would have a couple of drinks—though Yosano would never have more than a couple of sips—before opening up about your concerns and disquietudes. Then, she would spend the next hour or two carefully picking each one apart with logic, an arm wrapped across your shoulder to reassure you that everything would be alright.

Fukuzawa always walked in without you noticing, though the smell of tea and the pawing of a cat against the fabric of your pants always clued you in—you had no idea how he managed to sneak the cat in. The cat remained stretched across your lap, nuzzling into your arms and encouraging you to pet him as he purred. Tea was always sweet and delicious, a stark contrast from the darker brews that he made at the office. And he always peered down at you with a sympathetic frown, parting with a gentle 'call me if you need anything' and a squeeze to your shoulder.

And then there was Ranpo. His visits were much more irregular compared to your other co-workers, which was in character for the famous detective. However, they always had a trend to them. Most of the time, he would be his usual, obnoxious self, groaning over a new case that he had picked up or complaining about an irritant that occurred post-vampirism outbreak. But in rare moments, he only sat across the room from you, completely quiet. Those were during the nights that you trembled despite wearing thick sweaters and being wrapped in woolen blankets. He always visited during those long hours between dusk and dawn, in spite of the 'no visitors' policy.

He knew that you didn't need to be alone.

But you only continued to gaze out the window, longingly admiring the birds that had remained perched on the roof of the building across from you, doves endlessly preening their feathers—symbols of peace, paradoxically existing in the same space as your disordered mind. You honed in on those luscious white feathers despite the strain of your eyes, your soul desperate to escape your body, and ran from the slow, labored breaths of the bandaged man unconcious on the hospital bed.

The stupid, idiotic man.

The apocalypse had been the closest he had ever danced with death, entangled in a tango with a rhythm he had become very accustomed to—they told you that he had a smile on his face when he was found, battered a beaten, embracing his fate with the same playful expression he had greeted every passing moment with. You barely held back the impulse to smack the stupid grin off his face, only restrained by the way your fingers wavered against his scratched skin, laden with bruises that blossomed beneath previously scarred flesh.

It made you ponder the same question that had been spiraling in your mind, like a dust ball, constantly pushed into a corner until it needed to be cleaned. Did he really want to die so badly and escape from this world—even if it meant leaving you behind? Would he watch from beyond the grave as you wept, sorrow imbued in your bones as your soul rotted alongside his corpse? Did he expect you to learn a lesson like the one he had learned from his old friend?

Such bullshit.

His cold fingers slipped into yours with practiced ease, muffling the sobs that escaped your lips as you hid your face in the back of his limp hand—you weren't close enough; nothing would ever feel close enough. You wouldn't be able to protect him, to save him from himself. He was such a brilliant man, his mind swathed in mystery and impenetrability, only making you fall deeper with such a magnetic pull. It didn't matter that you could never dream of understanding him. But his mind also fought against him, like a parasite devouring its host, trapping him inside with no chance of escape. He remained a wanderer within the despondency of life, monochromatic shades impairing his vision as he continued to roam without a purpose. But you had thought, foolishly so, for those spare tranquil moments, that he had a purpose in you. In your love. But perhaps, you were wro—

"A-Are you an angel?" a voice croaked, and you momentarily lost your ability to breathe. 

You blinked back the tears that blurred your vision and debilitated your sight, desperate to make out the image of that same brainless man, the very one that had been in a coma in that damned bed for weeks. He removed the ventilator mask with a huff, a pair of tired, darkened brown eyes peeking between curls of puffed-up bangs that needed to be trimmed badly.

He smirked, that familiar, playful upturn of his lips marking his cheeks, life returning with a flush to his pallid skin. "I guess that I must be in heaven if my angel is here—" He inhaled sharply as you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight and burying your face into his neck to breathe in everything that was so him . His coltish expression softened, a knowing gleam in his eyes as he leaned into your embrace with a coo. "Oh, baby."

The remnants of his cologne had been washed away by the redolence of hospital soaps and the stench of gruesome death. But he was here—he was alive, and that was enough. The edges of his hair brushed against your face, tresses bouncing and tickling your skin as he pulled you taut to him. His lips trailed the exposed parts of your neck, a hint of vehemence in each mark. 

And he trembled, a hand cupping your back as it traveled into your shirt to trace the bare skin. He missed this. The way your warmth and softness felt against his calloused fingers and how you would shudder from the chill. The way you pinned your hair off your neck when you had been wrecked with exhaustion and the tiny baby hairs that fell to frame your face. The way your brows shifted to reveal exactly what you were feeling and how they always relaxed whenever you looked at him. And those eyes, those incandescent eyes that bore into him with such a fire, ferocity and passion mixing to create a stunning swirl of devotedness and adoration, the same ones that reflected in his own eyes. It was the memories of those eyes that he longed for in those ceaseless nights, staring at the perimeters of his cell—you had shown him a purpose, being the reason he was inside that cell in the first place, the reason he fought against the hands of fate and the will of a fellow demon.

Because if anything had happened to you while he was stuck in the damned jail—if even one aspect of his plans had fallen through, he wouldn't have been able to live with himself. It didn't matter if he had to put his own life on the line. He would do it a million lifetimes over to ensure your safety—even if it meant sacrificing the life you had together, the comfort you brought that made him want to live, to feel enlivened through the tenderness of your unyielding love, always bringing him back from the tedious degeneration of living. The way you looked at him made him realize that to you, at the end of the day, he was the only thing that mattered.

And it was the same for him.

You continued to cling to one another as the celebrations continued below, an aura of gratitude coating the hospital room's walls as you soaked in his presence, listening to his words and feeling that enlivened love between you, knowing that it would be mirrored back tenfold.

And those doves flew into the skies above, although one, in particular, remained, only for a moment, perched at the edge of the room's window. It tilted its head, peeking inside at the sight of the two of you, and with a thistle of its white feathers, it flew into the air to join the rest.

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @solandiss @ruru-kiss @sillyspookycat

© MUSAMORA 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[brainrotcharacters]

Babes. Babes.

I read it during my lunch break at work and my food was tastier. Spicier (innocently), if you will. spoilers under the cut because i simply cannot stop myself.

i've gushed about the potential of our would-be patroclus actor. now let's give the hypothetical achilles actor some attention.

-

Achilles' Reaction

THE PERSPECTIVE CHANGE????? I experienced a system reboot when I read 'to me' until I realized this is dead Patroclus' pov. I've always understood the Ancient Greek concept of shades and half-death; Hades is my favorite Greek god. That's dad right there.

But going back to it, this is officially my idea pitch to licensed, experienced showrunners: when the perspective changes, make it blurry. Like looking up at the sun when you're submerged in the ocean. You know how Good Omens always framed Aziraphale and Crowley side by side, then at the s2 finale it's so distinct, their separation? That. Do that. Frame Achilles at the edge of the screen and keep Patroclus' spot empty, now that he's gone.

Sound design, too! Two or three times in two paragraphs, it's literally written how numb Achilles felt before the Greeks returned to camp with Patroclus' body. Translate it to sound design by either reducing everything to white noise, or nature noise, or absolute silence before we cut to Achilles as realization dawns on him. But this brings me to my second point.

Achilles' scream when he realized whose corpse they're carrying. Do we silence the scream or not?

Because it'll take a passionate actor to dig up the emotion Achilles felt, and translate that emotion into such a guttural, devastated sound as he crumbles onto Patroclus' corpse. I know I sound insane when I say I heard the way Achilles screamed, reading that scene. Just trust me, bro. Think Philippa Soo as Eliza Hamilton if she wasn't a better person and decided to skin George Eacker alive.

I know the appeal of muting the scene so we just have the physical, visual emotion of the Achilles actor to go off on. I'm keeping our options open.

Obviously, for the sake of viewers' eyesight, we can't blur the entire sequence. Even if I think we need to do everything for the art. I only mean that Patroclus' tether to the mortal world is faltering, and so far blurring everything except Achilles (when he's on screen) is the only way I can think of to show-and-tell Patroclus' pov.

But that scene isn't the conclusion to Achilles' reaction. Oh no, no. Achilles lashing out at Briseis, at Thetis? Included. Achilles hunting down Hector like a dog? Included. Achilles' own death? Included. Motherfucker smiled as he died because it meant one step closer to reunite with the love of his life; are you fucking kidding me?

I've already mentioned my next point. Achilles vs Hector. Or more so Achilles hunting Hector, when there's literally a line in the book that addressed how it wasn't cowardly of Hector to avoid Achilles on the battlefield because it is a known fact that when they meet, Hector won't survive. Me personally, the rage in screaming Hector's name must parallel the devastation in screaming Patroclus'.

I aim to be so single minded, if it wasn't for this undiagnosed adhd.

The Achilles actor... God please let there be a man passionate enough about the character and comfortable enough in his sexuality to be given the role. So much justice can be done. I have no right to say I wrote the book, and the big, writer part of me wishes I did, but what I do have is imagination. I can imagine the physical transformation of Achilles in 1080p in my head, and I wish I was a part of a team that can give the fandom this content.

Let me cook for you all the slow, deliberate decay of Achilles from the moment he learned Patroclus died. Facial hair, dried blood on his skin, he probably looks like he smells awful, and yet. And yet his muscle memory in the battlefield doesn't waver, even when he wanted it to. The montage of those warriors squaring up against him and losing, that one river god squaring up against him and losing. Slowly but surely, let's frame Achilles front and center of the screen through all of it. The world revolves around him again, but this time Patroclus isn't there.

TW: major character death (The Song of Achilles)

So. Patroclus dies.

I'm loud today because I visualized the emotion as vividly as I visualized the sequences. I'm a Greek myth kid so I already know the chariots, the battlefields, the clothes, etc. That's not why we're here.

We're here because live action tsoa.

Patroclus in a chariot, adorned in armor and a violence he prohibited himself to use for the past 27 years. Patroclus' body language changing in that moment, whereas the entire time beforehand he moved like the comfort person of the entire war camp. A man of medicine who becomes the golden boy of the battlefield at act 3.

I need upward camera angles on my boy the entire sequence of this fight to make him look bigger. Because he feels more than himself in that moment, doesn't he? There's literal lines of how empowered he feels, war notwithstanding. I need the bloodstained sky in the background to match the energy change in him. I need a closeup of the feral expression on his face during that short Sarpedon sequence and the wall climbing that followed afterwards.

I'll update this post when I finish reading how Achilles reacts to his boyfriend's death.

[yeetskreetreet]

You and Michael being Gregory’s parents part 2

Part 1: https://yeetskreetreet.tumblr.com/post/676539088975855616/the-au-where-michael-is-gregorys-dad-but-youre

So you and Michael had both realised you were reunited after all this time. But you also realized you didn’t want Gregory to get a complete world shock. This purple zombie man he randomly ran into in the pizza plex... being his father??

So you both prayed he didn’t notice how you VERY CLEARLY recognised Michael. You and Michael both gather you’re self with a mutual quiet understanding, and start to focus on the more important task on hand... getting you and Gregory out.

Lets say in this au that instead of Freddy being kind of sentient, it’s that Michael has hacked him and can get him to help you. It’s Gregory’s idea to upgrade him though. They had already gotten chicas beak when you’d been reunited, and it was when Gregory went to get Roxy’s eyes that you and Michael where for the first time in years, left alone... (with occasional updates from Gregory through the fazwatch)

You and Michael sit there hiding, still so unsure of what to say. But you decide that if not now then when...

“I....have so many... questions”

He sighed deeply.

“I know hun.. I...” you breath hitched at the all to familiar nickname.

“And id love to answer but...”

“But what?” You looked at him with colder eyes, and he turned his gaze away. Don’t get it wrong, of course you missed him and didint want to force anything out of him. But still, you’d been missing him for so long, and had loved him so much that you’d convinced yourself he’d... died.. because if he loved you as much as he said.. how could he leave you and you’re son in the ditch like that?

“...did you think I wouldn’t love you?”

Your voice started getting shaky and weak...

“No hun... I just-“

“Did you think he’d be scared?! More scared than he’d be without his father?!”

“ (y/n) please!” He desperately called to you.

And then you broke, after letting out your anger now came the pain, and the tears. Michael didn’t stop for a second, and immediately took you into his arms. Even if it felt harsh to immediately get meet with the reality of his actions, he knew you needed to get it out. He also knew that even if you might never forgive him, you would at least understand, if he just got time to explain...

He was sitting down and leaning against the wall, you curled up between his legs and arms. He stroked you’re hair, and leaned down to kiss you’re head.

“I knew it might sound stupid... but would you believe me if I told you after all these years.. I’m still trying to end my old man?” He chuckled quietly while pulling some hair from you’re face.

“....you’re fucking kidding me... still?!?” Maybe it wasn’t a thing to laugh about, but you couldn’t help to laugh at the absurdity. He nodded.

“It’s.. the easy way of explaining where I’ve been.... as to why I never went back home.. well you seem to have figured it out you’re self” he gestured to his purple decaying body.

“... I guess I have... but-“

The fazwatch beeped.

“Hey guys! I got the eyes!! I’m on my way now!!

Gregory beamed trough the watch. Micheal responded with a small smile on his face,

“Okay bud , we’re where you left us, be careful”

You both started shifting away from eachother and fixed you’re self up a bit. Michael sighed once again and locked at you.

“I promise once we get out I’ll explain why I... why I look like a mouldy grape” you blew air out of your nose at that, still so funny without even trying.

“When.. WE get out?” You looked up at him questioning eyes.

“Yes when WE get out..” he stepped closer to you and took you’re smaller Hands in his cold bigger own.

“I left you once with the thought I’d never see you again... if fate has put us back together.. then I see no reason to not be.. “

He stroked you’re cheek.

“I left you once... and I won’t do it again”

He kissed your forehead. You looked at each-other tenderly, before hearing supposedly Gregory getting close to you, and you both instinctively moved away from each-other again...

Part 3:

https://yeetskreetreet.tumblr.com/post/676991933307092992/you-and-michael-being-gregorys-parents-part-3

(Might already have some ideas for future parts 👀)

[posledniyshans]

Would love a Correct Take on Breaking Bad from you

ok here we go please feel free to throw tomatoes at me

“’What I want –what I need - is a choice’’ – when Walter enters the narrative he is already dead. His deadness foreshadows and unleashes a katabasis, literally ‘animating’ him. It’s the first of a series of symbolic oppositions that the story goes through in both a metanarrative sense and in an esoteric play of forces on a stage.

His choice to live is a realisation of both his liminality and a dire measure to enact a cathartic narrative – life is defined by death and his actions become more and more death-driven the more they become obsessively love-driven, as he burns his dreamstate self (the timid teacher) to achieve his Real self – the immortal Ubermensh, ‘’king of kings’’; to enact a grandiose myth of Becoming

Of course this must come to be through drugs. Drugs, as historically an instrument for transgression from ordinary reality to heightened consciousness, are in their genesis a shamanic attibute. Symbolically they’re the stuff of dreams, altered states of consciousness, unreality, visceral and intense experience of the Self, they mark the threshold between two worlds. Walter “I am awake” White ‘knows the chemistry’ and describes it as the study of ‘growth then decay then transformation’ – an esoteric view by anyone other than an alchemist - like him

Alchemy as a motif of transcension is reflected by the colour play of cinematography in the series - many video essays talk about BRBA’s storytelling through color; The Great Work of Alchemy is described as a series of 4 stages, represented by color/coloring – nigredo- a blackening, albedo - a whitening, citrinitas - a yellowing and rubedo, reddening or purpling. The dynamism of the narrative juxtaposes those colors constantly to signal a fluctuating transmutaion of the characters between stages of change, which is realised in a transformation in the very end, as the color scheme between ‘stage’ and characters turns into chiaroscuro. Now, alchemy is opaque as hell, but its popular core Thing is the transmutation of lead into gold as a metaphor for spiritual purification and ascension from a diseased ephemeral state to a perfect everlasting Being – summed up in Walt’s speech: he distinguishes chemistry from an empirical, positivist study of ‘matter’ and explicates it to a study of spiritual and metaphysical ‘transformation” [c.f: the ‘wire’ scene – the material is lead, and alchemy’s thing is to turn lead into gold - a transsubstantiation to elevate the soul into a heighteted mythic state.]

Now, Carl Jung was Obsessed with alchemy as a path to growth and as a symbolic system of mapping the psyche, which is where he derives his concept of ‘individuation’. He wrote about alchemy as a ‘symbolic process of coming into wholeness as a human being where opposites are brought into contact and inner and outer, spirit and matter are reunited in the hieros gamos or divine marriage’’. Jung posits that individuation is a business one undertakes in the ‘second part of life’ – the midlife crisis, as a ‘’’process of becoming conscious of parts of the Self that were not admitted into the persona in the first half of life[…] the ego begins to confront inner ‘’opposites’’’’ , the integration of the ‘shadow self’, a process of transcending ordinary social life and expectation and entering a philosophical mode of living.

Walt’s choice is to enact this process – his alchemical view of life gains a material exression through his ‘product’, referred to in the show as an almost mystical substance, distinguished by its color /blue as a hermetic symbol of the final stage before catharsis/. His meth is a transsubstantiation of lead into crystal and from the crystal’s distribution into ‘gold’. /’there is gold in the streets just waiting for someone to come and scoop it up’/ - its both transgressive bc it’s a psychic catalyst and a base form of ‘gold’. Being his symbolic opposite, Jesse is the vital component of Walts individuation – he’s a reagent for the transsubstantiation of meth into gold /’you know the business and I know the chemistry’/. And Walts “corruption arc” is the integration of his shadow self - which becomes possible mostly through his affair with Jesse - love is the biggest transsubstantiator, and in a tragic narrative, dark, abusive love is even better >:))

Which brings me to the core of the show – their hieros gamos, symbolic marriage which transfers Walts individuation to Jesse. Their relationship has paternalistic motifs, Walt substituting his children for Jesse and Jesse acting as immaturely in the beginning, yet he also uses Jesse as a wife surrogate (an abuse of power analogous to covert incest, and several characters point that out, most notably Mike in his speech-thesis moment of misattribution, falsely identifying Walt as a domestic victim and foreshadowing Jesse as the battered wife)

To me their psychosexual entanglement is very real and it’s the crux of people’s misunderstanding. The audience averts their gaze from it – some are disgusted by their ‘shipping’ – and while it’s not a thing to ‘ship’, they see only a father-son dynamic, which fragments the story’s internal logic. Some ‘ship’ it facetiously, picking up on the part of that dynamic which makes the first group’s denial so aggressive. they also miss the complexity by reducing it to an abusive relationship (it is that, yet that view is simplistic)

Because the show is a tragedy, their ‘divine marriage’ cannot be anything but profoundly violent and wounding. In its context Jesse could be seen as perversions of the dichotomy anima-animus- Jess the anima – intuitive and reactive, and Walt as animus - possessive dominating and abusive. It’s a dynamic that leads to both their deepest pits of suffering and their ‘deaths’ – Walter’s limbo-purgatory in the cabin and immortalisation at the centre of his lab(irynth, bc the minotaur myth is sacrificial myth) (and the story) - his chamber of transsubstantiation, and Jesse’s symbolic death in the cage /in an image of hellish medieval punishment/ and resurrection, when he breaks through the cages in the desert. The progression of Walts destructive love for Jesse is something like a Nero-Sporus situation, which is also why Skyler is framed like that /as seen by Walt/ – she’s in the way of Walt and Jesse’s ‘consummation’, she’s an obfuscation of Walt’s true desire, the redemptive mirage he clings to as he builds his monument for immortality. She names their baby Holy, as creation is holy – that baby is an image of salvation for Walt, as he descends lower and lower in his katabasis.

His relationship with Jesse is what drives that tragedy – his jealousy of clean cut mentors that contrast with his possessiveness, of the women Jesse ‘cheats’ on him with drives him and the narrative – Jesse is Walt’s in body and soul, his ‘partner’ – his other half, and he is not allowed to have anything but Walt /’’if there’s a hell we’re pretty much going there’’/ - Jesse ‘married’ Walter when their journey to the underworld begins and as per their ‘deal’ (50/50 partners. like in marriage. which is a deal of partnership), only death can do them part.

And as Walt can’t cease the chain reaction of violence he initiates and they enter into sacrificial crisis territory, where distinctions between everyone are lost and the cycle of destruction propagates: Walt needs blood to fuel his upward momentum; like Bob he has “the fury of his own momentum” and the ‘fire he’s started is very hard to put out’

The sacrificial crisis /Girard/ begins with an incorrect sacrifice and can only be stopped with a ‘correct’ one - a surrogate victim that would cleanse the community of evil and restore order. In the chapters leading to the denouement, Walt is rushing at breakneck speed to an explosion (he is ‘a time bomb tick tick’) - he’s running out of victims to sacrifice in the name of ‘keeping himself and Jesse’ alive That’s his predestined course /in a tragedy everything has already happened, blah blah/ and everyone is ‘around for the boom’: as Jesse spirals into an opheliac ‘madness’ (he’s a ‘rabid dog’ to be put down), he looks like the sacrificial victim most fit for Walts altar. But as long as Walt -Heisenberg- is alive, he can’t sacrifice Jesse - he is dependent on him for his life. I think BRBA is heavily influenced by Twin Peaks and vice versa later on (e. g. the Jesse/Laura paralells in brba and the new mexico test atomic explosion in ep 8 of The Return as the birth of al evil). Heisenberg is the father of evil in the story and is the shadow self that consumes Walt in his off the rails individuation journey: he starts a ‘fire’ of bloodshed and violence that can be put out only by closing the circle and sacrificing the creator to his own monstrous disembodied creation. What he does wrong - his hubris in thinking he is his own shaman. Kastaneda’s fictitious Don Juan, who feeds Karlos drugs in his initial journey into himself, says that one must traverse the land of dreams, the world beyond this world with a shaman-mentor as a guide - otherwise one will get lost and ‘die’, consumed by his shadow. Walter manufactures his drug-atomic bomb and it consumes him. And this might not be TP, but just like Bob, Walter is immortalised and Jesse, much like an inverted Laura, lived for Walter’s sins.

Anyway, their sacred acts of betrayal in the desert are elevated to myth, as emphasized by Shelley’s poem Ozymandias,. The supposed etymology of the word ‘alchemy’ as ‘the egyptian science’/’black earth/soil’ is in opposition to ‘red desert sand’ – their alchemical journey is enacted in the ‘alone and level sands’ of an endless barren wasteland, like a stage or a mirage – as if the characters almost acknowledge the limits of their own Being as trapped in a story. In the desert they die and reach eternity in their own ways, enacting the first in a triad of sacred acts – betrayal. In the desert again they enter a last commune of the two other sacraments of love – forgiveness and salvation – in that last moment after Walt kills every trojan so that [gunshot] and they share a last look. That katabasis happens because of their grief turned rage and is transcended by their rage turned grief.

In the final episode Walt comes to the desert to die, not knowing of Jesse’s suffering, presuming a betrayal /like Jesse’s some Delilah/ and gives him back life and closure as he himself dies at the centre of his ‘shattered visage’, a death that has haunted him from the beginning. Jesse’s Job-like suffering concludes in a triumph of transformation through his ‘marriage’ to Walter – the alchemist of human souls. Walter’s Faustian more than he is evil though, because he seeks redemption through confession, and “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness”. And he does offer Jesse to kill him. And Jesse as a figure of salvation is seen in refusing to (“then do it yourself”) - Christ is posited by modern thinkers to be the anti-sacrificial figure, exposing the mechanisms of scapegoating by fully abstaining from reciprocal violence; his sacrifice the one to end all sacrifices. Jesse staying alive and exiting the story is him both remaining eternally living and Walt - eternally dead - one last cyclical dichotomy, affirmative of forgiveness as a great sacrament.

Jesse i think could be the ‘traveller from an antique land’. As he exits the story, leaving Walter to die a monument and center to it in the belly of his lab(irynth*), he is the only carrier of its intimate truth - that mythic, archaic story of the man who grew so big he brushed against gods and imploded - a smear of ruins in a barren wasteland - that’s one consuming tale to carry! (In The Return, Laura is posited as an immanent being of light, contrasted with Judy’s atomic birth of evil; if Walter is eternal in the desert like Ozymandias or an atomic site, Jesse is eternal as a Traveller outside of evil => as light)

tl;dr BrBa is ti me an archetypal faustian tragedy that coalesces around an intensely spiritual, violently libidinal and destructive love story between Walt and Jesse. It investigates the transformativity of annihilation, hubris, vengeance and power, but also in that space - an ascension through profound suffering and sacrifice and forgiveness as a consequence of that love, that leads to either an individuation as rebirth and life or one as a last soaring fly in search of immortality. Everyone is a tragic hero and most of all Walter, who pursues his death to the bitter, grand and monumental end

Guess ill go kill myself now. Lastly, Anne Carson: ‘’myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.’’

[popopretty]

BSD Chapter 91

The chapter is called “We are back to the Detective Agency again”

A rather calm chapter compared to the pain we had last month. I am hoping it is not the calm before the storm. This is gonna be long because I can’t pick what part is important and what is not... Every dialogues seem necessary to the story...

Neither my English nor Japanese is perfect (and to be honest my mind is not being very clear today because I have been gaming too much over the last 2 days lol) so please forgive me if I make some mistakes.

SPOILERS AHEAD

- Atsushi and Kyouka find themselves at the ADA office. They meet Kunikida and are very surprised because the place sure has been sealed off by the government. Kunikida tells Atsushi to look out of the window so he does and finds nothing outside. Ranpo explains that the place is just a fake one created by Poe’s ability for them to hold a meeting, about the strategy to defeat the enemy.

- Fukuzawa and Yosano are there too. Atsushi feels touched seeing everyone together after a long time and he feels like he would not lose to any enemies. Kunikida tells Atsushi that it is not time to be moved to tears. Atsushi thinks it is very calm of Kunikida, until Kunikida explain that he is that calm because he has already cried for 2 hours. 

- Kyouka suddenly tells Atsushi that she could sense more people in the room and that there must be intruders. She uses Yasha Shirayuki to stab through the table with her swords and finds Tanizaki and Kenji hiding under the table. Turned out they were hiding there because they wanted to surprise Atsushi. Kenji tells Atsushi that when they were hiding at the safe house that Mafia prepared, a liaison person came to meet them and told them to reunite with the rest of the ADA. That liaison was Mori himself, and he went that far to help because Mafia was in a bad situation and ADA’s plan was important to PM too. 

- The meeting starts with Ranpo explaining the situation to everyone. The Decays of Angel has entered the last stage of their plan, spreading the “vampire” disease all over the world. The armies of sixteen countries have fallen. And the rests are having their hands full, because they can’t imagine how many “vampires” are lurking inside their own armies. 

- Ranpo then tells everyone that Bram is the source of the apocalypse and Fukuzawa adds that Bram used to be called one of the world’s ten disasters. Many years ago, he fought Fukuchi and was sealed by the holy sword, but looking at the situation now, that was probably just a part of Fukuchi’s plan.

- Tanizaki asks Ranpo if they did that to bring chaos to the world. Ranpo answers that it is impossible because there are still the headquarters of the ability users in Europe. If England, France and Germany decide to go all out then the world would be back to normal in half a year, even though it means a lot of countries will be erased. What the Decays of Angel is really aiming for is the weapon “One Order”, one of the three “big disasters” that were created during the Great War, a weapon used for mental control. 

- Ranpo asks everyone in the room how many bullets they think it would take to kill one enemy in the warfield, and to everyone’s surprised, the number is about 50,000. Because most of the soldiers do not really aim at the enemy when they shoot. They don’t want to see their own bullet kill a person. Even if that is a war and that killing someone with your bullet is an “ordinary” thing, most people are not able to stand that. To fix that, the army has trained people to “shoot by reflex without thinking”, but that method left a burden on the returned soldier and led to many suicides. That is the reason why a need for a tool to protect the soldiers in a “humanly” way arose. That was when One Order was created.

- Fukuzawa explains that One Order is similar to his ability, as it has effects on one’s subordinates. In One Order’s case, it can make one’s subordinates act exactly as they are ordered. One Order is like a radio device used by the superior. When a subordinate is ordered through One Order, their body will move as if it is a part of the superior and automatically carry out the order. The soldier is then freed from guilts and doubts because they now can tell that it is actually their superior who pulled the trigger. 

- One Order was first created with that purpose, a “kind” weapon. However, people then realized that it was a very dangerous device that can lead to a “coup d’etat” (government overthrow) if used by a top commander. The weapon was sealed and its creator was killed off. It was not destroyed in case a terror like this time happened. Fukuchi was previously made the Commander of the “Human Army”. The countries will hand One Order to him in the hope that he would use that to defeat the vampires. However, it is all according to his plan. If he gets One Order, then all the armies in the world will fall into his hand. The Decays of Angel plan, in short, is “World Domination”. 

- Since One Order will be handed to Fukuchi in the next 20 hours, if ADA can stop that, it will be their win. And Ranpo is explaining his plan.   

The chapter ends here. The next one seems promising. I’m excited to see what Ranpo has planned against Fukuchi. Thank you for reading until the end. 

[honorhearted]

"Y--you shoul-- should not be HERE."

Shouldn't he, though? Ben had spent every waking moment tormented over thoughts of his brother -- wondering where he was, how he was, and if he would one day be blessed enough to take him into his arms again.

Throat raw, Ben softly replied, "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, Sammy. If God didn't wish for us to be reunited, then I would have escaped."

In many ways, perhaps he had given up; perhaps a part of himself had purposely willed this to happen. Ben was still hale and hearty in comparison to the others, yet the stench of filth and decay and contagion made gorge swell at the back of his throat.

Samuel's dry, bone-rattling coughs that followed were concerning, and in spite of himself -- in spite of the undeniable punishment headed his way -- Ben turned back toward the guard on duty and begged him, "Please! He needs a doctor... Surely,  you have-?"

The man struck his jaw with a staunch, head-snapping crack from his club. The force of the blow caused Ben to bite into his tongue, blood filling his mouth as he bit back a cry. He would never give these bastards the satisfaction.

"No doctor," the guard snarled. "We don't got enough rations for you lot as it is."

Horrified, Ben touched a manacled hand to his rapidly swelling jaw, his eyes narrowing as he watched the guard stride off in the opposite direction. With God as his witness, that man would be the very first to die, were and and Samuel to successfully plan their escape.

At his side, his brother continued to heave several reedy, tortured coughs, and fury melting into concern, Ben rolled toward Samuel and tried to peer at him through the scant light. "Do you have water?" he asked. Given the refusal of basic decency, he already knew the answer.

The idea of his brother being here since December in such a rotted, rat-infested hellhole made Ben's stomach turn, and reaching for the skeletal hand alongside his own, his eyes burned as he gave Samuel's hand a squeeze. He nodded in answer. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, Arnold's a traitor. He believed himself underappreciated, so he left while seeking more money and glory." His upper lip curled at the admission, disdain glittering across his tired eyes.

"Be--Ben, you mus-- must get out of here. If -- if something happens to me, I -- I want you to promise to -- to take my name."

"No." The word was out before he could stop it. "No, absolutely not," Ben hissed. "Now that I've found you again, how could I ever leave you behind? Don't you see, Sammy?" He squeezed his brother's hand more emphatically. "This is Providence! God's Will. The only way I'm leaving this ship is if you are with me." He thought then of their parting words, and with a tearful little smile, reminded him, "To the bitter end, remember? It's you and me."

Plagued and tormented, the youngest Tallmadge had spent countless hours willing and wishing for imagination-conjured wraiths to physically manifest. He has lost hours contemplating Heaven and ruminating over well-trodden scriptures, murmuring them with prisoners not as fortitudinous as he. There is comfort in the fact that the Jersey can NOT endure to eternity; not for those with their hope stored in Christ, that is.

But now, NOW that he is staring into the eyes of his brother, he cursed himself and his lone selfish desire; to see Ben once more. For but a moment, his FEVERISH condition and wretched smell is forgotten. His ever-tightening throat strangles a gut-wrenching sob as studier, but no-less bound arms, collapse about his form and tug him inwards. No resistance is shown even if Samuel had desired to. His bony frame CAVES, crumbling as if it were made of SAND against Ben's. The touch, the only kindness shown him since --- since his capture.

"Y--you shoul-- should not be HERE." He rasps, clearly grieved by the development. His voice, outside of prayers and recitation of scriptures, seems foreign to himself-- as if--- it belonged to another.

He is gifted but a moment to give an affirmative nod. "Wh--what is left of me." Samuel sees no use in being dishonest now. Were he a more morbid sort, he would have said 'what the flies and disease had not rotted away of him'. Yet, empathic Samuel could tell that Ben was already agonized enough without that mental image.

He instinctively moves to shield his brother from the hit, but can not thanks to his shackles. Malaise, sleep deprivation, and starvation had SLOWED him a good deal. "Tis -- my fault, s--sir. And mine alone." Samuel grits out between shivering teeth. "I -- I fell on him." The minute he finished those words, scorching lungs unleashed a horrible torrent of coughs. Coughs more befitting someone who gargles with gravel than a sickly soldier. Under the fit, he folds, like a house built of straw, back into the heap from which he had miraculously risen.

Burning eyes struggle to keep track of Ben as he falls away, cast into the same merciless, inky-black. He moves to answer, but finds a rat crawling across his leg in search of places that it has not already left it's toothy imprint. The ravenous creature is dismissed, as are the bugs crawling all over him, as he tries to focus on answering his brother's inquiry. "I will confess," Samuel starts, speaking only loud enough to be heard above the other passenger's pained outbursts. "I know naught what day or what month it is. It-- It-- it was De--December, I think." Chances were, he has been here over a year. The truth was, he was here long enough to pray with many dying.

"Is--" He squeezes his eyes shut. "Is it T...TRUE?" He swallows a tasteless, dry, and gritty, swallow. "Th-- that Ar---Arnold-- tu---turned coat?" Having fought beside the man in several battles, the entire notion FELT preposterous. Surely, the man he witnessed exhibit such bravado, vigor, and courage could NOT have joined the rank and file he so DESPISED.

"Be--Ben, you mus-- must get out of here. If -- if something happens to me, I -- I want you to promise to -- to take my name." Samuel knew that Ben served a vital role. His name, however, would be dismissed as a nobody of little import. If only one of them would withstand this war, he wanted BEN to carry on. He couldn't hold a candle to his brother's wit, or his strength, nor could he earn nearly as much favor with their father. Or so he thinks.

[yep-ishouldbesleeping]

Time to Vent

Hello My Hero Nation, it is time once again for me to scream into the void about my disappointments in the latest chapters (not all of them but especially a couple were just meh for me). You’ve read the title, buckle up BOIS.

I think Hori might have bitten more than he could chew with this arc and didn’t know how to wrap it up so he started to rush things, and it kinda shows. I’m not even one of those who thinks Horikoshi is a bad writer, he’s not the best but he’s good enough, especially the writings of certain characters I find very, very good.

But lately... He’s not been up to his own standards imo. 

So I made a list of all the things that disappointed me. Why? Because I’m insane and I’ve been hyper for the past 3 days and I need to say something.

Story wise

Midnight’s death was handled awfully. Not even a small flashback? Sis really died off screen like that. With Twice we got a beautifully crafted moment that was very heartbreaking, very well written. And although I’m more of a villain stan myself, I think the heroes’ side deserves the same treatment.

The fuck happened to Toga? Last time she was running and was not reunited with the League. 

The fuck happened to the Pussycats? We even got a small vignette with fucking Wash. WASH. (Like sir you’re great but now’s not the time)But not with them? ‘K. I thought they were a tad bit more important.

An update on Ryukyu? We know she was injured and that’s it, but she was important for Njire, Uraraka and Asui and yet we know nothing about her. I’m not even sure if the decay destroyed her hands completely.

We don’t know what happened to the big three. We know they got injured, but especially Tamaki, we basically haven’t seen him the whole arc, yet he was pretty important for Kirishima and Mirio (2 characters who have a more important role in the story... but yet here we are).

The Todos hospital scene. Not good. The golden child syndrome and the bad victim one strike again. Apparently Fuyumi and Natsuo aren’t as important as Shouto, being that they’re not “the family’s heroes”, when they both tried their best and Fuyumi especially tried to keep the family together (Not saying Shouto isn’t important just that he shouldn’t be put on a pedestal and viewed as better than his siblings).

Actual consequences for the heroes?? A couple of pages isn’t really enough in my opinion, and Endeavor gets to keep his job?? He should be removed if not incarcerated?? Domestic abuse is a crime??? Plus maybe a little investigation on Hawks. Show me something Hori. SHOW ME THE SYSTEM FALLING APART PLS.

An update on the current Heroes’ Top Ten would have been nice. Half of them are dead, another half is injured. Some people are quitting and some others are being cancelled. A quick recap would have helped the readers as well as the story, summarizing the story and showing how the tides are changing.

None seemed to really care that much about the prison breaks. We just know that the panic hasn’t stopped but everyone was more involved in other things. ‘K.

Kurogiri?? What happened to him? Did he escape? None knows.

Where are the new prisoners gonna go? People like the Doctor, Machia and Compress, if Tartarus is not available, especially Machia. Where the fuck can you put this giant. 

Human Reactions

The parents don’t seem concerned at all. Your children were dragged into a war, half of them almost died. Can we get an actual reaction? Give me parents that are angry, that cry, that want to take their children away from that school. Nope. Nothing. Just Inko and Mitsuki moving calmly looking mildly concerned. That’s not even in character.

Inko your child has dropped out of school and is missing. Honey what are you doing. Why didn’t they give you any human reaction I’m so sorry. They did you dirty love. 

Deku and All Might talikng. We don’t know her.

Deku AND KACCHAN TALKING. We don’t know her either.

Deku talking about Nana and Shigaraki. Nope. Not even a small little scene where he tells Gran Torino that Nana said hi, it would have been a small thing but still very moving I think.

THE SECRET IS OUT PEOPLE. Can we at least, at the very least, get an actual decent reaction of Deku’s classmates pls? No, just a page of people holding letters (that we can’t even read completely) with most of the focus on Uraraka, I know it’s because she has a crush on him, but people like Iida and Asui are his friends too, seeing that would have been nice.

THE OTHER SECRET IS OUT. Show me the class reacting to Todoroki’s situation, being hurt that a hero would do that, trying to awkwardly comfort Shouto.

Aizawa and Mic talking. For example about the Doctor or, I don’t know, FUCKING MIDNIGHT.

The League reacting to Dabi. The bitch is just crying blood on a couch none told him anything? 

The League being corcened about Compress and Toga. One is captured and the other is missing, I know that AFO is now in control but saying that your allies are missing should still be of interest to him too.

An update on Shigaraki. We don’t really know how the dialogue is going between him and AFO right now, after the prison escape I mean, just an update about them fighting for dominance (God that sounds bad) would have been nice.

The people reacting to ReDestro. I believe no civilians ever talked about him? And yet his company was pretty big, but now that he’s been exposed to have ties with the league none said anything. Also his ideology was said to be spreading but none seems to care that much.

Aaand that’s that. I probably forgot a couple of things but I think these are the more pressing matters. As I said I’m really disappointed. 

Hori has shown us that he’s a capable writer and now he’s just... not doing too well story wise I guess? I hope he can come back up.

I don’t know. I feel a bit better at least.

Feel free to add or disagree just please be nice, I’m a fragile human.

[yandere-sins]

this isn't from the alphabet thingy (so if youre only doing requests for that rn feel free to ignore this!!) but could u maybe write something for a reader who spends the entire academy phase pining for dimitri and then after the timeskip when they've maybe already buried their feelings, dimitri goes yandere for them maybe?

Thanks for requesting! :3 Let’s go!

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This much should be okay, right?

Even though you had this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, it wasn’t like you two were doing anything especially strange. Dimitri just... held you. A little too awkward and a little too tight, sure, but after all, he went through, could you blame him? Five years ago, this would have been a dream for you, and even though the world around you turned into rubble and dust, you couldn’t ignore the soft flutters in your stomach now that your wish was fulfilled.

You, too, needed comfort after all that happened.

Back at your time in the monastery, you had only ever dared to glance at the prince. Admired his diligent and firm way of thinking and talking, but also the soft smile and tender laugh falling off his lips. Every day you swore it would be the day you’d approach him, reach out to him. Yet, every day you hesitate, watching the chances you had, dwindle away and so did Dimitri. More and more did he start to distance himself from you and everyone else, for that matter. He may had his struggles - and you, for one, would have loved to be his confidant back then - but he never let them on, even if they were written on his face in pain. Only as things started to become more and more convoluted did something inside him break, vanishing all the light from his eyes and cladding him in somberness and hatred. 

Dimitri was nothing like his former self anymore. If he spoke - and he did so rarely - it was hard listening to him, painful even. Before you stood a broken man, someone whose heart had been ripped out and trampled on before reviving him. You didn’t want to be the one pointing out his flaws, not when he was so important in the upcoming battles, and you were thankful for his presence. But he also wasn’t the man you fell in love with anymore, that much you had to realize for yourself. 

And yet, who’d have thought that of all people, you were the one he’d let close. Dimitri had stopped talking to so many of your comrades. Stopped eating and moving, spending hours inside the cathedral, and not rarely did you wonder what his mind did in times he stood dead still. 

Perhaps, something about the lost reality Dimitri embodied at this time was what made you take extra care of him. You, who got back so much strength from seeing the Blue Lions reunite, have both the prince and Byleth back from the presumed dead, just couldn’t abandon the boy- or rather, man you once loved. Even when he hissed and screamed about you at first whenever you approached him, it soon made space for more silence, and you calmed down, knowing you weren’t one of his victims-to-be.

All you did was bring him food and told him about the news around the monastery. When you took heart and approached him more closely to get his cloak, carefully pulling it off his shoulders with only an exasperate sigh falling off his lips, you almost jumped for joy, even though the garment was stinking abominably and washing it was more challenging than fighting in battle. But it was all worth it for the moment when you returned it, Dimitri adjusting it with daggers shooting from his eyes at you, only for him to mutter a quiet ‘Thanks’ as you left again. To you, this was the highest praise you could have received all your life.

So now that he decided to hold you, you couldn’t refuse. In the end, you didn’t know what happened to him or what he truly was thinking. But in these uncertain times, everyone could need someone to hold and rest their head on. Even a presumed monster like Dimitri, or maybe, especially Dimitri, needed it. You didn’t want to assume anything or think too highly of yourself, but perhaps your dedication of not letting him decay like he did before was the reason he chose you for a change of mind. 

Nothing would ever be the same as it was, and you weren’t the naive teenager anymore you had been before. The teenager who still believed that nothing bad could happen in this world and Dimitri was a literal saint sent from the goddess. But your body wasn’t lying either, hands shaking as you returned his embrace, putting them on his back carefully, scared you’d make him disappear if you touched him. 

Of course, nothing like that would happen just from your touch, and you took a deep breath to calm yourself. The happenings of the days... they still weighed heavily on your mind too. But how hard must it have been for Dimitri if you were already suffering? Another fight, another important soul perishing from the world. The head of house Fraldarius may not have died in vain, as his last breath was used to put some soul back into the empty, murderous shell Dimitri had been. So how much must the former prince be suffering right now that he’d chose to trust in your company instead of anyone else?

“Thank you,” he whispered quietly. It was only you and him and the wind howling around you two on the balcony you two had retreated to, but he still spoke as if his words were only meant for your ears and no one else. 

At first, it had surprised you greatly when he approached you himself, smiling nonetheless. You were almost convinced you died; otherwise, how could you explain the change of heart he had gone through? 

“For not giving up on me. I am thankful that you were there,” his voice sighed into your ear, and you felt the heat rise into your face. Luckily, the armor you two wore for protection also protected your heartbeat from giving away how fast your pulse was racing right now. “N-No problem,” you managed to croak out, scolding yourself for the ordinary answer you gave. It could have been your moment to say something epic! Something groundbreaking! But no, it was humble at best. 

“I’m glad Your Highness is finally looking up again, even if what happened had been a tragedy too.”

Biting your lip, you thought to have overstepped with your words as Dimitri pulled back. But in the moonlight shining down on you two, you felt it rather than saw, as his hand cupped your cheek, the leather of his glove warm and soft. “Yes, I can finally see clearly again. I know now what’s important and where my priorities are. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for showing me.”

The kiss that followed was timid at first but changed into unreserved and unstoppable quickly. Part of your brain knew that leaning in and accommodating Dimitri was a mistake, something a teenager might have done, but it had been five years since you felt this way for him. The war wasn’t over, and a love story like this was only true in books, so there was always a chance for it to end in tragedy rather than joy. 

But right at this moment, it felt like the world was restored to normality. As if his kiss could defeat all the evils and banish them away. Even if your love had laid dormant for so long, Dimitri was poking at the embers, stoking the fire inside of you. Perhaps, you hadn’t been over him as much as you thought five years ago when he was captured and vanished not long after. Maybe you had just ignored your heart, hoping that one day it would stop aching, but never abandoned your love for him. 

“Please don’t leave me.” Opening your eyes faintly, you could see the reflection of the moonlight shining from his. His gaze was wide and adoring, but in it laid so much more than what you could hope for. In fact, you weren’t sure if those feelings you noticed in Dimitri’s eyes were feelings you wanted him to experience when he looked at you. “Not tonight,” he continued, “Never.”

Fear, desperation, desire. It all flicked through his gaze, his lips continuing to play with yours roughly. He sucked and pulled, his tongue slipping in the first moment your lips opened in a gasp for air. It was an amazing experience, yet, a part of you felt like he was devouring you. All these things began to make your head spin uncontrollably, his words being questioned over and over. What did he mean? What did he want? You didn’t want to confront him with wrong assumptions, but you also didn’t want to let him down. It was all so much - too much - to bear, and yet you simply didn’t want him to stop and go away.

“Of course!” you sighed into the kiss. “Anything you wish for, Your Highness.”

“Ah,” he whispered back, pulling you into an even deeper kiss. “The Goddess is merciful with me today. I’m so happy! I am so--” 

Your body noticed it before your mind could register what happened, a harsh flinch jerking through every muscle. It shook you awake, slapped away the clouds that had fogged your brain, as you felt the pain coming from your lip. The taste of iron spread over your tongue, and you cocked your head away, reaching up at your lip only to find something hot and wet coating your fingers. Too thick to be saliva. Too red in the moonlight to not be blood. 

As you went to question what happened, Dimitri’s lips crashed back down onto yours. An assortment of stings made you close your eyes tightly, drumming your free hands against his breastplate. You wanted to like his kisses, but not if you were bleeding and put in a tight spot with his harsh movements. 

But you didn’t need to voice your uncomfortableness nor fight him as he quickly pulled away again. With a sense of horror, you noticed your blood on his lips, his tongue flicking out without ever looking away from you, to lick off the red color decorating him. “--happy! We’ll be together forever, right?”

You had no answer for him as he waited for your reply. This much, it should have been fine. It should have been fine to follow him into battle, to fight for him, and to celebrate his success. Even after all these years and the heartache you experienced before, it should have been fine to fall in love all over again, to care for him and accept him closer, right? Right?

Then why did it feel so dangerous to be in his arms, your lips trembling as they tried to heal the wound he just marked you with?

[haleigh-sloth]

If I may, what do you think about the theory that when Shigaraki using decay to much his body decays. It happened with Deika city and in the war arc after taking to much damage (since he wasn't 100 he started falling apart). His upgrade should of fixed the decay part or am I wrong. Also it looked like he completely lost his hand when they showed him in 295 ? But in the following chaps it is there just crumbled like it was before him getting the AFO upgrade. I swear if he ends up dying by his own quirk ....I'll not be happy.

So I had to go back and look at 295 to see what you were talking about.

His hand looks fine to me? If there’s a different panel I missed when skimming through (and I very well may have), please let me know.

As for the decay harming his body...well...lol, look at the rest of the BNHA cast. They all get hurt by their own quirks. And it's as you said, the upgrade wasn't complete, so his body couldn't handle all that power being forced into it, and it started falling apart on the battle field. Even if he had been given the full four months, that doesn't necessarily mean his body would be immune to the destructiveness of the quirks, it just for SURE means that his body would regenerate from whatever damage it took. Basically, no I don't think there's any reason to think Shigaraki's quirk is going to kill him.

Also, side note because this turned out really long and I didn't have a chance to throw it in here: but I do also think Shigaraki will end up quirkless in the end also. But that's way too much of a long-winded explanation for this already mile-long post.

In regards to Shigaraki dying at all:

Sigh--look. If Shigaraki dies--and that is a big IF--it won't be just because of his quirk. If he does die (I don't think he will but I'll get to that later) then it would be by his own choice and it would absolutely be in a sacrificial manner, meaning he will choose to do it for the sake of everyone else. Because redemptive death is always a possibility, and there is literally only ONE reason that I think Hori would dare choose to go that route, BUT I'll talk about why I do not think that that is even remotely what's going to happen, even with the somewhat sensible choice Hori has with it.

So bottom line is, I don't think Shigaraki is going to die. At all. I'm not worried about it. I'll save the reason why I'm not worried for last to end this post on a good note. I'll start this under-the-cut section off with the ONLY reason I feel like Hori would choose to give Shigaraki a heroic/redemptive death--though I don't think he will:

Shigaraki has no family left. There's not anybody waiting for him to come home, and there's no real set-in-stone-by-the-story situation that shows he will be given a place to go and be taken care of after all is said and done. With Touya, it's obvious. He goes home. With Toga, even though it's not particularly obvious, it's kind of a given that Toga should be given a place with the other teenagers in the story. I want to say at UA even, but it's still too soon to tell. Either way, Toga, a teenager who wants friends who accept her, has an ending waiting for her where she will get that (I doubt her family will come back into her life but we'll see). Shigaraki...I mean what is there for him? I do 100% expect him to be seen as a hero at the end, but like....what comes next. Now look, I do have some of my own guesses as to what will happen afterward, but those are just guesses. There isn't really anything to say that any of what I think will actually happen. SO here is where that tiny lingering concern for redemptive death comes in:

Shigaraki's family, we saw them in the vestige. The concern I have is that Hori will pull the "Kill the villain heroically and show him reuniting with his family in this portal/after-life/alternate plane of existence" trope and call that a happy ending. Because Shigaraki's family left him at such a young age, and he clearly has immense regret over what happened to them. However, I have more reason to believe that won't happen.

It worked for Obito in Naruto, but it won't work here.

Shigaraki's happiness wasn't tied to his family. Yes, he had parents who loved him and wanted him to exist, and a sister who loved him dearly, but his happiness didn't ride on them existing. In fact, he was too young for his happiness to depend on anything. He just needed to be taken care of, accepted, and loved by the people around him. He literally never had any opportunity to form his identity outside of his family, because he was only 5 and had zero control over his life.

Shigaraki dying doesn't fit with BNHA's definition of saving. Midoriya is going to somehow reach Shigaraki's heart and save him from self destruction, and through those actions Shigaraki's redemption will be him destroying AFO--the biggest looming threat over everything else. That's his redemption, his salvation. All that hard work from our MAIN CHARACTER would just be completely pointless if Shigaraki dies. All hope instilled throughout BNHA would go out the window. It wouldn't make sense to end on that note.

And--I'd argue that anybody in the story portrayed as a small child at one point or another (Midoriya, Bakugo, Shouto, Ochacko, Toga, Touya, Tenko) technically has plot armor. (All the UA kids will be fine, but I'm making a point here). BNHA uses children for a lot of things: relaying messages, evoking empathy, evoking emotion, and displaying vulnerability. All things that you typically wouldn't do for your character if you didn't want your readers to root for them to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And before people say "BUT THEY'RE ADULTS"--okay, explain:

Again, you don't remind people of a character's vulnerability in this way unless you want the readers to sympathize, and view them as the innocent kids they used to be.

All of Hori's choices to portray the villain trio in such a way, along with their hero kid counterparts, just tell me that he's telling readers: "Look at how the adults in their lives completely failed them. Look at how they deserved better. Look at the redeemable cores they all have." Like...these are choices he's consciously made. And within this particular story, it really says a lot about what he's trying to do here by doing this. I actually talked about it here, because it's actually really important how he uses specific characters' child selves in very specific moments.

SO, TL;DR: I don't think he's gonna die. I'm not worried about the effects of his quirk. I don't think he'll even have a quirk by the end. But even if he does, there's no real reason the author would use it to kill him.

[pikahlua]

yeah it’s pretty frustrating to see the direction of Uraraka’s character. when the overhaul arc happened i was so excited to see her fight but it never came? and then the war arc happened and she gone for a long time until she ran into toga. idk it might just be me but i wanna see her out there in the frontlines her quirk has much more abilities then to just be a support hero. i also hope for the idea of being the character who moves on from the their crush fully. but idk hori might’ve just added for angst for when they reunite? in terms of izuocha it’s cute but needs more on deku’s side if it becomes real.

Things Uraraka needs like yesterday:

To study martial arts (really all the characters need this, why isn't this a mandatory class?)

Propulsion support items like boosters, a jet pack, water jets, literally anything. DID WE NOT LEARN FROM THE CAVALRY BATTLE? URARAKA, WHY HAVE YOU NOT HIT UP HATSUME ON THIS YET?

Ammunition/projectile weapons she can launch in the air and drop. Literally ¥1 coins would do. Gravitational acceleration does the rest.

Leadership experience. Get a girl squad together and go wreck some shit. Or a boy squad. Make them carry her around on a tricked-out sedan chair. Iida's in front.

To hang out with the dudes, especially Kirishima. Go to a Pro Wrestling match together or something.

Team up with Bakugou. Decimate the enemy. Scream while doing it.

I need her to throw a building at someone. A whole-ass building. Any kind of Atlas moment, please.

I'm fairly sure the reason she didn't get in on the main action of the war arc is because she's the hard counter to Shigaraki's Decay. It sucks, but there you go. Her quirk is a plot device. Zero gravity has so many cool applications and Horikoshi can't be bothered to use any of them before the ending, apparently. In any case, if IzuOcha is truly endgame in the traditional sense, Bakugou better punch the shit out of Deku for being so dumb about it. Oh god, Wingman Bakugou actually sounds amazing.

[partytilfajr]

Salam how did you deal with death I have soooo many regrets after a family member passed wishing and driving myself crazy thinking about if I had known their last few days on earth I would have spent the whole days with them, and everyday when I wake up I keep replaying in my head if I could go back in time, how I could have done things differently. My family members death was so sudden. I do think of all the good memories but I have all these what if’s it’s only been a few months but I’m still stuck and can’t go on and live my life and live in the moment I’m stuck in the past. I’m distant from everyone and can’t enjoy life. I pretend I’m okay to everyone but I’m not. Me and this family member was so close we’re siblings. I’m still in shock like why did god choose to do this, I trust him but it’s so difficult I’m sooooo angry and sad - Please help me May Allah bless you I know it’s Qadr but

Wa alykum as-salaam,

I’m not sure if there is a right way. I mean, there are obviously damaging things you can do--generally things that go against Islam--but let me tell you this:

You will always have regrets. If you did this, or that, or spent more time here, or spent more time there, you would still be sitting here, reflecting on how you could have done more. There is never a sufficient amount of time that you could have spent that would have made you feel different.

We do this because we are unfair to ourselves, because we miss them, because we are in pain.

With my grief, losing my father (Allah yerhamu), I think back and I think, that grief, that was for me. Grief is natural, The Prophet cried when he lost Zayd ibn Harith, and when people asked him why he was crying, The Prophet answered, "It is only natural that one should weep for the death of his beloved."

But I would ask myself: if I care about my father, if I miss him, then what can I do to help him? And the answer is really that I can pray for him, I can obviously put charity in his name, and do good deeds for him. I put that at the center of my grieving. Because grief, pain, it’s centered on us, and we don’t think about them.

We ask God, why did He take our loved ones away from us? But that question is centered on us, again. I think about my father, and I cry out. My father will never see me get married. My father will never see my child. I won’t be terrorized by a little two year old boy, and I won’t be able to look at my father where he’ll smile and laugh, watching me get tortured in the same way I did to him. That made me so sad.

But then I remember, I had him. That was my father. For 28 years of my life I had the best father in the world. How dare I complain. I know so many people who did not have their father, who lost their father, who had horrible fathers, and God gave me the best father.

When I learned that my father had passed, I screamed that I was not ready to be without my father, and I keep reminding me of this quote from Sheikh El Shaarawy:

"If the one who has his father to lean on has nothing to worry, then what about the one who has his Lord to lean on?"

I then ask myself: what if my father would have left Islam had he stayed alive? Maybe my father would have had worse suffering? We fixate on ourselves, and never think: what about those who are gone? What is best for them?

God knows best. That is a difficult lesson, but it is also one in which I have to ask myself: am I going to be a good father myself? Am I going to take on the test from God, that if I have children (insha Allah), will I reflect my father? Will I be as good as he was to me? Will I earn the right to be called my father’s son?

That pain is there, and it never goes away. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him, and while the days of crushing pain are less now, years later, they still come up. When something on TV reminds me of him, sometimes randomly when I’m just... living life. I guess I asked myself: what am I going to do with that pain?

What purpose does this pain serve? In my view, we fixate on the pain because we feel guilt and maybe we feel that if we are to feel happy, it’s as if we have betrayed the person we love. My father was such a happy man, he would bring so much joy to people’s lives, to my life, and he was always so proud of me, and he was such a great man, I feel like I’m lying and/or bragging that a man that great could look at me with pride, it’s like I can’t believe it, and so... I know what you’re talking about. It hurts to write this, but I know, but I’m telling you: this pain is for us. It’s like we are reassuring ourselves, that we care, that we still care, but do you think your loved one wants to see you paralyzed with this pain?

I’d go talk to a therapist, honestly, please, please do this. It will help. You need to check yourself out, see what’s going on. But also, you need to think about those milestones, those things that you wish you could share with them, and remember that we will be reunited with them, not in this life, but in the more important one: the next.

I’ll leave you with this: we have to remember that this life is temporary. We are always reminded about this when we receive condolences. I have now heard the Qur'anic phrase "inna li-llahi wa-inna ilayhi raji'un,“ [Verily, unto God do we belong and, verily, unto Him we shall return.” (2:156)] as a reminder from those who offer their condolences to me, but when you read further up this ayah you look at the language of The Qur'an and you fall to your knees.

The ayah begins with “who, when calamity befalls them, say…” and the word is “asabathum” which in Arabic means to strike. It’s like an impact, it’s not some slow process of decay, it’s not gradual, it’s this sudden impact.

Now I face a life without my father, a calamity, and I remember him. What will I do? How will I react? For in the previous ayah [2:155] God says:

“And most certainly shall We try you by means of danger, and hunger, and loss of worldly goods, of lives and of [labour’s] fruits. But give glad tidings unto those who are patient in adversity -”

I sit here, devastated by my father’s passing, but also a product of his care and love, and I must ask myself, am I going to live by his example and what was his guide in his darkest moments: Islam?