#i will eventually share her backstory

[vani-candy]

i decided to make some new references for Mitty that go a lil more in depth than her old one!

i drew five outfits for her but truthfully, she's a fashionista who has wayyy more clothes and combos in her wardrobe, drawing them all would take forever LMAOOO

[bixels]

Learning that fans hated Applejack and called her "boring" is crazyyy to me because I genuinely, unironically believe AJ's the most complex character in the main six.

Backstory-wise, she was born into a family of famers/blue collar workers who helped found the town she lives in. She grew up a habitual liar until she had the bad habit traumatized outta her. She lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age, having to step up as her baby sister's mother figure. She's the only person in the main gang who's experienced this level of loss and grief (A Royal Problem reveals that AJ dreams about memories of being held by her parents as a baby). She moved to Manhattan to live with her wealthy family members, only to realize she'll never fit in or be accepted, even amongst her own family. The earlier seasons imply she and her family had money problems too (In The Ticket Master, AJ wants to go to the gala to earn money to buy new farm equipment and afford hip surgery for her grandma).

Personality-wise, she's a total people-pleaser/steamroller (with an occasional savior complex) who places her self worth on her independence and usefulness for other people, causing her to become a complete workaholic. In Applebuck Season, AJ stops taking care of herself because of her obsessive responsibilities for others and becomes completely dysfunctional. In Apple Family Reunion, AJ has a tearful breakdown because in she thinks she dishonored her family and tarnished her reputation as a potential leader –– an expectation and anxiety that's directly tied to her deceased parents, as shown in the episode's ending scene. In The Last Roundup, AJ abandons her family and friends out of shame because believes she failed them by not earning 1st place in a rodeo competition. She completely spirals emotionally when she isn't able to fulfill her duties toward others. Her need to be the best manifests in intense pride and competitiveness when others challenge her. And when her pride's broken, she cowers and physically hides herself.

Moreover, it's strongly implied that AJ has a deep-seated anger. The comics explore her ranting outbursts more. EQG also obviously has AJ yelling at and insulting Rarity in a jealous fit just to hurt her feelings (with a line that I could write a whole dissection on). And I'm certain I read in a post somewhere that in a Gameloft event, AJ's negative traits are listed as anger.

Subtextually, a lot of these flaws and anxieties can be (retroactively) linked to her parents' death, forcing her to grow up too quickly to become the adult/caregiver of the family (especially after her big brother becomes semiverbal). Notice how throughout the series, she's constantly acting as the "mom friend" of the group (despite everything, she manages to be the most emotionally mature of the bunch). Notice how AJ'll switch to a quieter, calmer tone when her friends are panicking and use soothing prompts and questions to talk them through their emotions/problems; something she'd definitely pick up while raising a child. Same with her stoicism and reluctance at crying or releasing emotions (something Pinkie explicitly points out). She also had a childhood relationship with Rara (which, if you were to give a queer reading, could easy be interpreted as her first 'aha' crush), who eventually left her life. (Interestingly enough, AJ also has an angry outburst with Rara for the same exact reasons as with EQG Rarity; jealous, upset that someone else is using and changing her). It's not hard to imagine an AJ with separation anxiety stemming from her mother and childhood friend/crush leaving. I'm also not above reading into AJ's relationship with her little sister (Y'all ever think about how AB never got to know her parents, even though she shares her father's colors and her mother's curly hair?).

AJ's stubbornness is a symptom of growing up too quickly as well. Who else to play with your baby sister when your brother goes nonverbal (not to discount Big Mac's role in raising AB)? Who else to wake up in the middle of the night to care for your crying baby sister when your grandma needs her rest? When you need to be 100% all the time for your family, you tend to become hard-stuck with a sense of moral superiority. You know what's best because you have to be your best because if you're aren't your best, then everything'll inevitably fall apart and it'll be your fault. And if you don't know what's best –– if you've been wrong the whole time –– that means you haven't been your best, which means you've failed the people who rely on you, which means you can't fulfill your role in the family/society, which makes you worthless . We've seen time and time again how this compulsive need to be right for the sake of others becomes self-destructive (Apple Family Reunion, Sound of Silence, all competitions against RD). We've seen in The Last Roundup how, when no longer at her best, AJ would rather remove herself from her community than confront them because she no longer feels of use to them.

But I guess it is kinda weird that AJ has "masculine" traits and isn't interested in men at all. It's totally justified that an aggressively straight, misogynistic male fandom would characterize her as a "boring background character." /s

At the time of writing this, it's 4:46AM.

[nickmarini]

Ayden’s Build 

TL;DR: Barbarian 1, Druid  2 (Circle of the Stars), Paladin 8 (Oath of the Ancients), and Cleric 9 (Peace Domain). Feats: Squire of Solamnia, Remarkable Recovery, Warcaster, Knight of Crowns, Spelldriver, Tough.

Building Ayden was a joy and a journey. To begin we were told we had 20 levels to work with and stats of 20 across the board. The only thing I knew about Ayden from the session 0 was that he was going to be a Cleric of the Everlight and that I wanted to make him the best support character I could. I also knew that the Dawnfather was aware of the mission briefing and so would have directed his growth to the task at hand. 

Stats of 20 meant multiclassing into any class was possible and that any ability score based bonuses or proficiency based abilities were going to be very good. I figured that with a warlock and a sorcerer we’d have some pretty good counterspelling and 9th level spell access, so I didn’t worry myself about either of those, instead focusing on making sure we all survived. 

The Dawnfather and The Everlight share 2 of 3 Domains. Life and Light. The Everlight’s 3rd domain is Peace. The Peace Domain cleric is an excellent subclass and its 6th level ability, Protective Bond, was something I knew I wanted to build around. The ability to take hits for, and aid, my siblings while teleporting around the battlefield is an excellent support ability and it also lets allies in the bond do the same, fostering sibling unity and cohesion.

With the Dawnfather having Nature as his unique domain separate from the Everlight, and literally sending himself to Exandria to infiltrate a city full of the greatest mages of the age, the Oath of Ancients Paladin seemed like an obvious path. It is the nature Paladin, (his domain) and 7 levels gives you both Aura of Protection and Aura of Warding. This means as Ayden moves through the battlefield with Protective Bond he will be granting allies +5 to saves from his cha as well as resistance to damage from spells. Incredibly good going up against the wizards of Aeor he knew he would encounter. I didn’t want to go to 10 with Paladin because I didn’t want to be immune to frightened. I just felt that fear played too large a role in the reasons the gods were here and although aura of courage is probably my favorite ability going back to 3rd edition, I felt like it wasn’t right for Ayden. He had to fear in order to reinforce his need to hope. 

These two classes were set relatively quickly and then I began looking at how else I was going to build him out. 

I really liked the idea of being able to grant my allies some extra attacks and so I was looking at battle master to get commanders strike and goading attack as well as maneuvering attack to help take hits for and position my allies. Action Surge is also a great ability that could really come in handy if I needed to save someone and needed one extra action to do so. 

I was also looking at the 2nd level Divination Wizard ability Portent. The ability to fully dictate 2 rolls is very powerful in certain circumstances, especially if the numbers are very high or very low.

Both these seemed good but weren’t feeling totally right from a character perspective. They felt too forced.

As I was playing around with these two classes I was also building Aydens backstory. I really liked the idea of him being agriculturally focused, as this aspect of the Dawnfather is actually his youngest. Sun begets days, and thus time and seasons, and as civilization evolves agriculture follows. The fighter levels lent the idea that he has spent some time training under a knight or some such warrior, and I knew that he would eventually find his way to Trist to begin his tutelage and become her cleric. I liked there being these different eras of his life. 

It was around this time that I got an awesome email asking me to describe Ayden visually so that the incredibly talented Hannah Friederichs and Cael Lyons could begin to bring Ayden and the Dawnfather to life. I wanted Ayden to be a simply dressed with a shield he took from his mentor, but no sword for striking. They sent 4 sketches and told me I could mix and match as I desired. Image #1 however was exactly as I had envisioned him. It was the simplest and had this depth to his eyes that told the story of a much older soul in this 15 year old body. It was so perfect that it made me realize I had been going in the totally wrong direction with fighter and wizard. The concepts of nature and agriculture were suddenly staring me in the face. It was not wizard, but druid, and his mentor could have taught him to be a paladin as easily as fighter, but if he is the bringer of agriculture who has he brought it to? A remote tribe still hunting and gathering was the answer. Barbarian therefore replaced fighter. I can’t tell you how influential the sketch I received was. It felt like a bolt of lightning suddenly clarified everything. 

I was for sure cleric 6, Paladin 7 and now looking at druid and barbarian. 

I didn’t know Druid subclasses very well but Circle of the Stars jumped out from the pack just with its name. The Sun after all is a star. When I read its 2nd level abilities Starmap and Starry form it was so obvious. I can cast Guiding Bolt to set up those attacks I wanted to grant, and I can glow instead of wild shape and either heal more or have a massive bonus to maintain the concentration spells I knew I wanted to cast. For the keeper of time to know how to read the stars just felt right. It also feel right that the druids of a tribe that had been hunting and gathering during the tumultuous Calamity would have learned to navigate by the stars, a singular constant in an every changing age. 

Barbarian has a number of interesting subclasses but none felt like they clicked. 1 level of Barbarian though, for a character with 20 dexterity and 20 constitution, catapults your AC to 20 and it also gives you a proficiency in Constitution saving throws if you take it as your first class, again reinforcing those concentration rolls. He was found as a child by this barbarian tribe and his first class is also his first community. Barbarian was the strong foundation I would build upon. 

I was now Cleric 6, Paladin 7, Druid 2, Barbarian 1. Reorganized to be the order Ayden would have taken them in it becomes the following:

Barbarian 1, Druid  2 (Circle of the Stars), Paladin 7 (Oath of the Ancients), and Cleric 6 (Peace Domain)

4 more levels to distribute. As a player who has mostly played 3.5 (I think downfall just about doubled the amount of 5E I have played) feats are my absolute favorite things, so getting to multiples of 4 in class levels to grab some was something I wanted to do (also I didn’t have to worry about ability score increases)! I had already given one feat up by taking barb and druid but I made up for it with the human variant. I also took the Knight of Solamnia background to give me Squire of Solamnia, the prerequisite for Knight of the Crowns which would give me the ability to grant attacks to my allies without needing battle maneuvers. 

So I upped paladin from 7-8 for a feat and then decided to take Cleric from 6-9 because it gave me a feat and access to the spell Dawn. I mean the Dawnfather should be able to cast Dawn after all! 

Now to feats

1) Background: Squire of Solamnia to give me the prerequisite for Knight of the Crowns

2) Human Variant: Remarkable Recovery. I knew I’d be taking extra damage so having 5 extra hp from any healing I get might just be the difference. It also plays into his background. He had to leave the Barbarian tribe he brought agriculture to because his skin could not retain the ceremonial tattoo ink that would have symbolized his initiation into the community. 

3) Cleric 4 Warcaster to get advantage on those concentration checks, that along with proficiency and starry form of the dragon means I need to take 28 damage (56 if it’s a spell) to even have to roll, and when I do I get advantage and proficiency on the check. Getting me to lose concentration is gonna be a task. 

4) Paladin 4 Knight of the Crown getting to grant an attack proficiency times per day combos wonderfully with Starmaps free guiding bolt, conveniently also proficiency times per day. 

5) Cleric 8 Spelldriver I’m gonna be casting a bunch of spells so the ability to cast multiple each turn is going to make my support spells come out much faster. I have a big fam to take care of!

6) Paladin 8 Tough I really went back and forth between this and Inspiring Leader. Granting all my siblings 25 temp hp is amazing but ultimately I decided that as I’d be tanking a bunch of damage I’d need toughness. Toughness gave me 15 more hp than Inspiring leader would have, and I ended up going down to 14 at one point so it was a decision that very much paid off by a single HP! Don’t wanna pop a deathward if you can help it!

Last but not least we were granted 2 magic items. One very rare and one uncommon. For my uncommon I chose a cloak of resistance, a parting gift from the tribe that Ayden could not join. This upped my saves to 11s or 17s and took my AC to 23. For his very rare magic item I took a spellguard shield, inherited from the knight who brought him from the remote tribe to Trist‘s school, giving me advantage on saving throws vs spells and magical effects and inflicting disadvantages on spell effects targeting me. Combine that with resistance to spells from Aura of Warding and that’s a nasty nasty combo v wizards. 

All in all Ayden’s build is an incredibly hard to target tanky support character who can move through the battlefield protecting his allies and being an absolute nightmare for enemy spellcasters. The only thing I really didn’t fully consider was just how much damage he would take from Warding Bond which totally bypasses all those wonderfully crafted defenses. As crazy as it is, I think we barely got to scratch the surface of Aydens full potential and it’s probably good those mages decided to cast spells at everyone else because Ayden was going to be a tough character for a spell caster to crack. The Commanding Rally did get to shine allowing characters who specialized in weapon attacks to get a little extra out of those 20 level commitments. Ayden’s build was crafted to keep his siblings alive and let them shine as bright as possible together. I’m very proud of him!

If you read all this then you’re as nerdy as me and deserve a reward!

[yamujiburo]

Got a few asks about what Pokemon I think Jessie and James would have if 1. they didn't just have the gacha machine and only caught Galarian Pokemon and 2. if they had the chance to go to Paldea

GALAR

Jessie: Sandaconda, Snom➡️Frosmoth, Impidimp➡️Morgrem

Sandaconda is a snake Pokemon. Jessie should be allowed to have all snake Pokemon. Period. Love the idea of her finding it and being unsure of what the hell she's looking at because it's all coiled up but upon it briefly uncoiling she falls in love.

Jessie should have had an Ice Type Pokemon at some point for real. Snow and ice play two big roles in her backstory (eating snow/growing up in a snowy location and her mother disappearing in an avalanche). Her having a lil Snom that's not particularly useful but that she grows to love would be so CUTE. They eat snow together!! Then I love the idea of her going from not thinking much of it to getting more and more attached to it over the series and then having it evolve to Frosmoth after some time (it'd remind her of her old friend Dustox)

Okay this one's gonna take a little explaining but I think it'd be so funny if at the same time, Jessie catches a Hatenna and James catches an Impidimp (mostly because Jessie wants the cute one). BUT Impidimp starts gravitating to Jessie because of her negative energy, which it feeds off of. She's much easier to prank and irritate than James, who's too much of a sweetheart and a little less susceptible to pranks. Jessie never finds out that Impidimp is the one pranking her but notices that it's taken a liking to her for some reason so she and James end up trading their Hattena and Impidimp with each other. It later evolves into Moregrem

James: Polteageist, Toxel, Hatenna➡️Hattrem

I think James is a tea lover, and enjoyed fancy teas when he was a child. Since he's a collector of bottlecaps and Pokeballs, I could see him also collecting teapots/teacups. Maybe they're in a haunted mansion one day and he grabs a teapot thinking it's a rare find but it's actually a Pokemon to his surprise. Also I think he deserves to have an Antique form, so it IS a rare find.

James having another baby Pokemon to fawn over like Mime Jr. would be so cute. It's an egg that the trio find but Jessie's too lazy to take care of it and Meowth's traumatized after the Togepi situation, not wanting to go through all that again. Toxel is born and it's James' everything. It's a bit bratty and constantly vying for his attention, usually by shocking and poisoning him but luckily James has built up an immunity to both those things thanks to Pikachu and Mareanie.

As stated before, James catches Impidimp initially but trades it for Jessie's Hatenna. Hatenna was NOT okay with the amount of emotions Jessie brought to the table and couldn't stand to be around her, often going to James who's much calmer between the two of them. Annoyed by it not liking her and finding that Impidimp DID like her, Jessie demands suggests a trade, which James is okay with as he's been growing attached to Hatenna. After it evolves into Hattrem, it starts (affectionately) smacking him whenever he shows too much emotion, carrying on the "James' Pokemon beat the shit out of him" legacy.

PALDEA

Jessie: Flittle➡️Espathra

Flittle just seems fitting for Jessie. She's always wanting a cute little baby Pokemon but funnily enough, never really gets one in the show. She absolutely pampers it and dresses it up. It eventually evolves into Espathra. Still being Jessie's mini-me, it often mimics her, particularly when Jessie's angry

James: Arboliva

Arboliva just feels like a Pokemon James would have LMAO. I think it'd be really sweet if after a particularly bad blast off, Arboliva finds Team Rocket and helps nurse them back to health even though they're mostly okay. They're grateful to it, James captures it and it continues to try mother all of them (in a less aggressive way than Bewear).

Shared: Scovillain

Listen. It'd be SO funny if Jessie and James shared a Pokemon. They see two Pokemon in the tall grass one day. A Pokemon with a red head and a Pokemon with a green head. Only having one Pokemon each at this time, they decide it's a good idea to catch another each. They throw their Pokeballs at the same time and the catch is successful! Just one problem. They find out the two Pokemon they tried to catch was actually just one Pokemon and they don't know which of the Pokeballs they threw was the one that actually caught it. They argue about it for quite a while but then agree to share custody. Leads to some funny scenarios where they're both trying to direct it in a battle. The red head prefers Jessie and the green head prefers James.

[guiltyasdave]

just close your eyes

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, implied death of a character, the angst is ANGSTING in this one

a/n: once again, i can't thank that jackson joel pedro photo enough for the inspiration that it's brought me. i hurt my own feelings with this chapter, and truth be told, it's gonna get worse from here.

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Over the following days, something of a routine forms between the three of you. 

Joel spends most of his time resting, asleep more often than not, the shape of him on your couch a picture that you grow familiar with. But as his fever goes down and the skin around his injury is less red than when you first laid eyes on it, you allow yourself the tentative hope that you might have been able to actually save him. 

You’re becoming less skittish around him, getting used to his rather gruff demeanor, slowly realizing that what Ellie said was indeed true, it’s not about you. You come to think he just doesn’t like needing and accepting help.

Ellie follows you around like a puppy, eager to soak up every scrap of knowledge that you can share with her. It’s not much, you think, mostly cooking, the task of turning supplies into various meals, given the limited resources that you have in this world. You like having her around, the almost constant stream of chatter and questions never annoying you.

It fills your usual silence, helps keeping you grounded in the present. Most of the time.

Now that you have company, it becomes painfully obvious to you how much time you spend in your head, just sitting and staring straight ahead, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to the time passing. You have taken to having a book open in your lap, to make it seem like you’re reading, but you find yourself looking down at the page without seeing it, not sure when you last turned it. 

It’s not what they would have wanted, you keep telling yourself, trying to shake yourself out of it. Well, it’s not like anything happened the way we wanted, the bitter voice in your head answers.

If Ellie or Joel notice, they don’t ask about it. You hear their voices in the night sometimes, both of them sleeping in your parents’ bedroom now, since the couch was starting to hurt Joel’s back. 

You don’t lock your door anymore, leaving it ajar, just like them. The thought of someone else being down here with you is soothing you, the fear of them being a possible threat basically nonexistent at this point. Instead, a different kind of fear sets in. 

They haven’t talked about where they are going, but you know that they’re not gonna stay forever. Once Joel is completely healed, and winter has given way to spring, they’ll most likely be off again, leaving you on your own again. You don’t want to grow attached, but it’s difficult not to, while being with other constantly. 

You and Joel are taking longer to warm up to each other than you and Ellie have, but you’ve gotten used to having him around you. It’s a quiet, but trustworthy, reassuring thing, his presence in your space. Now that he’s healing, he’s someone who you trust to take responsibility, to take care of things if needed. You’re not sure how you know, but you’re certain that he is.

One evening, Ellie finds the DVD collection that’s stashed away in the cabinet under the small TV in the corner of the room. You hadn’t watched anything in forever, not sure if it’s even still working, but her enthusiasm makes it impossible to turn her down. 

Even Joel pipes up at the prospect of a movie night, crouching down next to her to sift through the DVDs. They’re both drawn to the shitty action movies – usually not your preferred taste, but you find the corners of your mouth lifting when they both turn around simultaneously, looking for your approval of their choice. 

Joel pushes himself back up with a grunt, pressing the button on the TV and making it spring to life without issue. You settle deeper into the couch cushions, pulling a knitted blanket over yourself as you watch the opening credits play. 

It’s so comfortable, so normal, and you want to get lost in the feeling in a way that makes your heart ache. Ellie sits down beside you to share the blanket while Joel stretches his legs out on the other couch. A smile is tugging at his lips when he catches you looking at him, but it can’t hide the wariness in his eyes, mirroring your own. It’s the feeling of things being too good to be true, the fear of nothing good ever lasting, of the world crashing down around you again, that always accompanies you, and without asking, you know that he feels it too. You cast your eyes back to the screen, trying hard not to get yourself lost in the fear, but to enjoy the moments of peace while they last. 

Ellie loves the movie, her eyes wide at every action-packed sequence, gasping at every explosion. At one of the more absurd scenes, you can’t contain the burst of laughter that bubbles up your throat. You’re unexpectedly joined by the deeper rumble of Joel’s, a sound that you haven’t heard before. 

You glance at him, to find his eyes already on you, an emotion in them that you can’t place. Neither of you say a word, both quietly returning your eyes to the TV. 

When you’re lying in bed later that night, you still feel the smile on your face. 

While your closeness with Ellie came quickly, almost taking you by storm, it’s a quiet, slowly growing thing with Joel. 

It begins with him lingering in the kitchen when you’re preparing the morning coffee, asking you questions about the place, about keeping supplies, electricity, the safety measures. He helps you with cooking, grumbling about giving something back when you protest. 

He’s gruff, no comparison to Ellie’s lively chatter and endless questions, and it makes you nervous at first. But you get used to him, his more quiet demeanor, his dry humor. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to scare you again, avoiding sudden movements or getting loud, and while you appreciate it, you also can’t help but wonder how broken you must seem from the outside. 

He doesn’t ask prying questions about your past, how you’ve come to live here all alone, though you have to imagine that he’s curious. You don’t ask him about his either, even if you do wonder how he and Ellie ended up together. It’s a quiet mutual understanding and you’re grateful for it. 

You have to believe that he had his fair share of loss in his own life, that the both of them had; an inescapable reality at this point in the world’s history.

It’s like a silent camaraderie when he catches your eye as Ellie is reading out puns to the both of you once more, rolls his eyes in a way that still holds so much love for the girl next to you, but that fills you with the urge to giggle. It stops you in your tracks the first time it happens, the sensation so unfamiliar to you that you can’t place it for a second. 

When you smile at him, the corners of his mouth rise ever so slightly as well, before he huffs an exaggerated sigh at the joke that you just heard. It riles Ellie up, just like he wanted to, you suspect. But you block out her bickering at him, busy with your own thoughts. One thought in particular, one that you haven’t had about anyone since you were a teenager. 

Joel is kind of pretty when he smiles.

The both of them have also taken to working their way through the bookshelf that’s taking up most of one of the walls. It’s mostly guidebooks on hunting, gardening, self defense, anything that your father deemed possibly useful. Over time, you had added books from your old bedroom, the one upstairs, that you had hastily carried down the stairs, hoping for the familiar words to give you a sense of normalcy in a world where nothing was normal anymore. 

Joel sometimes talks to you about them, asking your opinion on which ones to read, discussing their contents with you. Over time, you realize that he does it when you’re zoning out, pulling you back into reality with the drawl of his low voice next to you. You’re thankful for it, not used to being cared for like this, but also mortified that as it seems, he does notice when you’re too deep inside your head.

It’s one of those afternoons, you’re just about to start preparing dinner, when Ellie asks if you have more books somewhere, about something cool. “Like what?” you reply, an easy smile on your face. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “like comics, maybe? Ohh, or something about space?” 

It takes a moment before the words register, before they form a picture in your mind, the memory of exactly what she’s asking for. You stop in your tracks, frozen on your way to the kitchen. Your toes dig into the carpet beneath your bare feet. A faint trembling starts in your hands and slowly spreads through your body. 

Ellie says your name, an edge in her voice. You’re not sure what your face looks like. 

Your wide eyes find hers, looking up at you from where she was spread out on the floor, her hair splaying out over the scratchy rug, one of your books held over her head. You had joked about how that position couldn’t be comfortable a few minutes ago. 

You see Joel from the corner of your eye, slowly raising to his feet from the couch cushions. It feels like you can’t breathe, like you’re sucking in air but it doesn’t reach your lungs. 

A large, warm hand lands on your shoulder, making you jump. Joel rubs soothing circles over your back, your name a low rumble on his lips. 

“It’s– it’s not a problem if not,” Ellie murmurs, sitting up slowly, her eyes flicking between you and Joel, uncertainty written over her features. 

You force a shuddering breath in, using the sensation of Joel’s hand splayed over your back to ground yourself. Nodding your head, you will your voice to travel up your throat. 

“Yeah no, I– just a second.” 

Joel repeats your name, more questioning this time, but you ignore it, feet carrying you into the bathroom where you quickly shut the door behind you. Skin stretching over your knuckles, you stand over the sink, gripping its edges to stay upright. 

It’s what he would have wanted. He would have been so happy to share them. It’s true, you know what. 

You’re not sure what’s worse. Going in there yourself, crossing the threshold of a room that you haven’t entered in years, haven’t even opened the door to, or letting someone else do it, let them disturb the memory of a reality that you’ve tried to preserve in there. Too painful to touch, but too important to let go of. 

Steeling yourself, you return to the living area. Ellie and Joel are sitting close to each other, both of their heads flying up at the door opening. It’s obvious that they have been talking about you. You bite your lip. 

Ellie rises to her feet slowly, takes a tentative step toward you. “Listen, it’s not that important really–” She sounds like she’s talking to a skittish animal. 

You shake your head, not trusting your voice not to betray you. With a deep breath, you cross the room to the door beside yours. One of two that you keep firmly closed. 

It creaks on its hinges when you open it slowly, your hand shaking on the handle. You try not to look around, to keep your eyes closed to the truth that nothing changed in here, and yet everything changed. It’s stuffy, stagnant air that’s been untouched for too long, but it smells like him. Like he’s still here with you. 

You don’t see the unmade bed, still carrying the trace of the last time he got up, the stuffed lion beside the pillow. Don’t see the half finished drawings on the desk, or the mess of action figures in the corner. You grab the stack of comics from the nightstand, ignoring the way your vision blurs at the edges. Move on to the shelf, smaller than the one in the living room, blindly picking out random books. 

When you step out of the bedroom, quickly pulling the door shut behind you again, neither Joel or Ellie have moved. You can’t meet either one’s gaze, don’t want to see the expression in their eyes.

Ellie takes the stack of books from your outstretched hands, murmuring a thanks, and you sense that there are more words on the tip of her tongue. Questions, apologies, you don’t know and you don’t want to. 

Turning on your heels, you escape into your own room, closing the door as quickly as you can before you collapse on your bed. Tears flood your eyes in time with the memories flooding your head, threatening to pull you under and drown you under their waves. 

You hear their muffled voices through the door, but neither of them comes to disturb you. You’re thankful for it, not needing anyone to witness you in this state. Eventually, you drift off into sleep, your mind gladly giving way to unconsciousness.

The following night is the first time that Joel has to shake you awake from a nightmare.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[lacunafiction]

This art of Davor is absolutely stunning! Those intricate tattoos, the delicious angst with A, and how only his Bee can call him Dove. 🕊 🥰

The Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction - Davor edition

I-I think Ms. Verner doesn't like him...😳

Davor "Dove" Kovač 🐝 RO: Becca Warrick

Personality: cautious // aloof // pessimistic // flirtatious (only towards Becca ...and Reese??) Traits: head // independent // resistance // believer Past affinity: math Primary ability: extrasensory awareness Past susceptibility: forward. 'it’s better to push forward. don’t look back on the past when you have new places to be and things to achieve.' <<< his motto

🕊️ Fernweh: Davor lived a happy life there and didn't think about leaving in the future. Maybe for some trips, but he knew it would always be his place, his safe place... 'It was a mistake to come back here.' - that was his first thought when he tried to fall asleep on the first night in Fernweh. The nightmares came back as he thought they would. He wants to leave as soon as possible because he feels that it is not safe for Becca to be here.

🕊️ Gramps Dan: That was his gramps who taught Davor how to play the guitar. As a young child, Davor always admired him and believed he was the most intelligent person in the world. After the death of his parents and how his grandfather treated him, he was devastated and angry. He wanted answers soo badly but didn't get any. He lived loathing his grandfather ever since. The news of his passing stirred up a lot of negative emotions that Davor had previously managed to suppress. At the beginning of the story he couldn't care less about his grandfather, but because of his journal he started to believe him. Things that his granfather lived through made Davor even more angry at this messy town …but he's willing to forgive his gramps…

🐝 Becca Warrick: It was a ...funny story that brought both of them together and they look after each other ever since. He considers Becca as his precious (not in a negative-possessive way) treasure, he literally can't let anything bad happen to her. That was also she who came up with the nickname 'Dove'... (and she's literally the only person who calls him that, others wouldn't dare...). He had feelings for her for quite some time but didn't act on it... until now. Although he didn't express it, he felt very nervous about Becca being in the town where he grew up. He was curious (but also scared) about what she could think of this town. He felt like he was revealing more of himself to her…. and he forgot about any worries pretty fast, because the town started being weird as fu--.

🕊️ Reese Verner: Back then Davor was quite cheerful and enjoyed competing with Reese regularly. They teased each other a lot. Davor always thought that Reese had a crush on him, was it true tho? donut know, but he certainly had. ...why does he appear in his nightmares? Maybe the crush stage never disappeared...? Seeing him again was a nice experience, sure... but ignoring the circumstances, he is still unsure if it was worth it and is struggling with his thoughts… Would it be worth it to return to Fernweh just to see him... again? welp, good thing he doesn't have to think about it much, am I right?

🕊️ Sofia Dorran: The two of them maybe did not have a strong relationship, but he knew Sofia is the ideal person for engaging in intelligent conversations. He enjoyed spending time with her, solving the puzzles that gramps created for them both. Davor wasn't a fan of fantasy books, but she managed to change his mind about them. Davor knows that Sofia did take good care of his grandfather, but he still doesn't quite know if he's grateful for that or wished she spent her time more... valuably... He was tempted to ask Sofia to borrow that book she found in his grandfather's bedroom, but he thought better of it. It's better to leave Fernweh… Even so, his curiosity wasn't properly fed.

🕊️ James Corvin: Maybe not brothers by blood, but definitely brothers by choice. Davor treated him as if he was the brother he always wanted to have. Back then Davor always placed a high value on his family… until now. At the time, Davor tended to be more impulsive and James was usually the one who kept him from getting into trouble (which often involved Reese). It was really hard, for both of them, to see each other after so long. Their first interaction was pretty awkward... I would even say that most of their interactions were . James noticed how Davor changed the question is: for the better or worse? I don't even know. Everyone can sense, that things around them are different now, and they aren't as close as before. Will it change?

🕊️ Alek Corvin: …To say that Alek wasn't a fan of Davor would be an understatement. Was it because James spent most of his time focusing only on Davor trying to get him out of trouble? Did Alek observe any possessiveness from Davor towards James? Or maybe simply because of the bond between those two, which was truly something that others would envy and desire? Davor never considered it, especially when he left Fernweh permanently. :)) As you can imagine, Alek doesn't seem very happy about Davor's return… But he took an interest in his new friend, Becca, which did not go unnoticed by Davor and he isn't really happy about it.

🕊️ The Waitress: Oh boy, it seems that Davor has taken up a new hobby, which is glaring harshly at the waitress. He finds her mistrustful and he smells trouble. Had they met when he was younger, there may have been a slim chance of them getting along.

🕊️ Waffles!: So um… Davor has a little issue with dogs and because of that his relationship with Waffles isn't as wonderful as I wish it would be... However, I believe that with time and help from Becca, they will eventually become friends.

[jji-lee]

⋆₊˚⊹.𖥔 zoom, click, panic ! -> hyuck's group

pussy feens (virgins) !

lee donghyuck is obsessed with anything camera related, no wonder he's a photography major. unfortunately for him it's an expensive hobby for a broke student like himself. he just lost his job at the convenience store cause he was too scared to help a hot girl find flamin' hot cheetos... he's a 24 year old virgin can you really blame him?

women gender studies major mark lee has to be the face of feminism. this may just be a ploy to try and get laid though, not like it's working anyways, the girls think he's gay. he's the dad of the group always making sure his boys are in check, and respecting women like they should. they'd have to actually get near a woman to respect her though...

zhong chenle's head is probably so huge because of how big his brain is, i mean who else is successfully completing an aerospace engineer major? not only is he a super mega nerd but he has an unhealthy obsession with stephen curry... what girl would wanna sleep with that? but who needs girls when you have your best guy friends who also get zero female interactions?

finance bro jung sungchan should have an easy time getting a girl.. right? wrong. he has no rizz whatsoever. but he's pretty popular amongst other men so he gets the guys access to all the biggest parties. parties which they spend all night stuck to one another... maybe they should try splitting up next time...

park jisung is the embodiment of shyness. no one knows how he's the only one in the friend group to have lost his virginity. he's cute and soft spoken... the the public. but when he's with his friend group no one can make him stop talking, certified yapper. and what's worse is that his rants usually consist of stars and planets, blame it on his astronomy major... or was it astrology?

these virgins met on a porn discord chat. they realized that they had the same taste in twitter porn and eventually made their own group chat to share videos. with some time there were less porn links and more personal talk. how sweet a bond forged by naked women and tragic backstories. but don't underestimate them, they'd ride and die for each other.

yn's group -> masterlist -> intro

notes : literally all nerds cause they have nothing else to worry about but keeping their grades up tbh. didn't realize how smutty this smau is gonna be so pls prepare urselves for dirty bad words and descriptions im sorry 😞

taglist : @kimsaerom , @n0hyuck , @nanaxwi , @neverbeurs , @sunghoonsgfreal , @hizhu , @axo-l0tl , @strawberrysavi , @hyuckiebb-blog , @hyucktion , @4yunogf , @jakesbubu , @gacktsa , @iheartjayke , @annoyednblax , @luvvhaechan , @dudekiss3r , @yesohhsehun , @prettybluei , @soobinbunnie5 , @hyucksunset , @the-swageyama-tobiyolo , @byeonwooseokabs , @kodasity , @hyuckmoon , @catdonut657 , @lionzyon , @luvandletter , @defzcl , @nneteyamss , @222brainrot , @1lovejinki , @zzurao , @catpjimin , @multifandomania , @docilismo , @injunnie-lemon , @jeonghansshitester , @babyjenono , @wonswondrland , @livingdoll-hara , @minkyuncutie , @luvsooby

[sassydefendorflower]

There is this common misconception in the fandom that to get the "fullest" Fullmetal Alchemist experience, you should watch the first 20 or so episodes of 03 (up until Hughes' murder) and finish the show watching Brotherhood.

I think that's bullshit.

Not because I have anything against 03. Oh, I think 03 is a perfectly valid interpretation of the text with a few absolutely genius moments thrown in there that make Brotherhood pale in comparison.

But it is an interpretation of the text.

Don't get me wrong, so is Brotherhood.

And while Brotherhood is a lot more faithful to the text, especially later on, that anime as well cuts out a lot of important worldbuilding in the beginning. Which is where this idea of inter-cutting those two animes even stems from.

But these two stories have wildly different interpretations of the same characters! The depth of characterization in both 03 and Brotherhood gets undercut by a mix and match that does both a disservice.

Ed is a lot more vulnerable in 03 - he is the tragic hero we follow who will make horrible choices in order to save his brother only to suffer and fail and break. The anime establishes this by introducing him to us at the age of 12, when he's only just starting in his journey. Many of his first adventures (the train, meeting Hughes, Nina and Alexander) take place at a point where Ed is a lot softer, a lot less hard, a lot less broken - they are what breaks him in a way. What eventually leads him down the path he takes.

That is a hugely different interpretation of the text as Brotherhood offers it to us.

In Brotherhood we meet Ed when he's at the top. The priest of Liore is no problem for him, he's been doing this for years, he's internalized a lot of the hurt he grew up with. Getting hurt doesn't faze him, his biggest hindrance is his urge to finally get this done and over with. He's cocky and self-assured and oh, so insecure. Which is why we need Nina, to remind him of the fragility in life and his own powerlessness. In Brotherhood Nina is the linchpin that leads to Ed finding out about Philosopher's Stones.

In many ways this interpretation of the text is a lot closer to the source material, but, yes, it is still an interpretation. Someone once said the biggest mistake Brotherhood made was include the Elrics' backstory in episode two and I agree - it is often what hooks first time viewers with the stark horror of what these kids went through, but it stands at odds with the original purpose of the backstory only being revealed in vol.6 of the manga.

Because in the original story, up to that point, we don't know why Ed and Al are the way we are. We've seen flashes, we know Ed has nightmares, we know certain things spook them, and we know they committed a taboo whatever the hell that means. And only when we meet Izumi, only when Ed has to forcibly drop all the walls he spend the last three years building, do we see what actually happen. It's also the closest Ed comes to crying - clinging to Izumi and begging her for forgiveness.

These are three very different ways to tell the same story.

All of these are valid. All of these can be fun.

But they hold fundamentally different approaches to the characters within them, which makes them not interchangeable.

The same is true for Hughes, who - in 03 - is a presence in the Elrics' lives from the very beginning, their friend and confidant in ways not even Mustang is. He helps them during the train hijacking and Elicia shares Ed's birthday.

That's a significant switch-up from the manga, where Ed and Al only meet him once they go to Central to search through the First Library - and in which only Winry ever really grows close to Hughes as a person, and not as a mistake made by the brothers.

And Brotherhood tells a different story again, by having Ed and Al meet Hughes in the first episode, as they visit Central to catch the Freezer and befriend Mustang's ally who invites them home - placing that relationship somewhere in the middle of coworkers and close, intimate friends.

These are three different characters, who are connected to our main duo in three different ways.

There's overlaps and I am not keeping anyone from having fun (03 Roy Mustang being the one to kill Winry's parenty, my beloved) but to really enjoy these stories, they need to be understood as three different texts.

03 stands strong in its originality, Brotherhood in its closeness to the source material, but if you want the OG experience just read the manga. It shouldn't stop you from enjoying the other two as well.

If anything, it should be more fun to have three similar - but different - worlds to play in.

[garbinge]

Welcome Home

Tyler Owens x F!Reader

Summary: After not being home for years, you come back and find yourself feeling everything that kept you from coming home to begin with. But that doesn’t stop you from calling an old friend and taking a trip down memory lane with him.  Created a playlist that inspired a lot of these scenes, some even mention the songs briefly. Welcome Home Playlist. // Word Count: 5k 

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Grief. Trauma. Dead Sibling. Talks of a break up, of drunk driving. No use of y/n. Mentions of having a sibling who has a name in this fic. Happy Ending. A/N: I… this was something that just poured out of me. I couldn’t stop until it was done. I can’t just simply write a one shot without giving reader so much background and backstory it becomes over 4k apparently LOL. Twisters Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

Being back home brought back up a lot for you. It’s why you hadn’t made any where home yet. The weight of the word was just as heavy as being back here. Your parents had gone out, taken the family to some line dancing event. It took plenty of convincing for them to leave without you, but eventually you and your sister gave them enough flack that they did. Now you sat alone on the large farmland on the back deck watching the sky turn pastel as the sun just began to set while your sister went inside to her room. After a couple minutes, you brought yourself inside, taking in all the things that never changed about home. The blankets, most of them were the same ones that you spent hiding under with your best friends when you watched scary movies. The furniture, the living room still had the same sets you’d make forts out of with your siblings. The pantry and fridge, your family was still an ingredient one so if you opened the fridge for a snack, you had to take the time to put something together instead of just grabbing and going. The pictures, there were new ones, ones that you and your sister both sent back home from your new lives away from here, but the old ones were in the same spots. Memories of building the back deck, going on vacations to Eureka Springs, high school graduations. This part of home was warm, it was welcoming, it was safe. As you entered your room, that’s where things got heavy. It hadn’t changed. There was no changing things into sewing rooms or storage. Everything was left untouched. 

It felt the same as downstairs. Only difference was your sister had been blasting Leon Bridges loud enough that you could hear it on the entire second floor. But besides that, pretty much interchangeable with the first level feeling wise. The blankets, most of them were the same ones you spent tangled in with him. The furniture, the loveseat facing the large bay window was where you spent most nights looking out of your telescope with him, not looking at the stars but looking at the clouds in the sky. The drawer in your nightstand, one that you jokingly called the pantry that held tons of quick non perishable snacks you’d find yourself sharing with him and even your sister when she would knock on your connected door asking for something. The pictures, those memories of who was with you helping build the back deck, who drove you down to Eureka Springs that one summer, who graduated alongside you. Then there were the ones that only the young group of you had memory of. Sneaking out to the swimming holes late at night, cow tipping because you had to see if it was a real thing or not. It wasn’t, instead you ended up drunk in a field with him and your sister. The party where you got violently ill all over your shirt and he gave you his. That was the photo you were staring at now. You, with the widest grin on your face in the backseat of his red dodge RAM, his green button shirt, only done up halfway, your white bra peeking out from it, your right hand with your thumbs up right next to your face, your hair drenched because he and your sister thought the hose from whoever’s house would wash the smell and stain of vomit from it. Your sister was next to you, her hands covering her face as she laughed and in the right corner was a blown out blob from the flash. The only visible markings you could make out was the top of dirty blonde hair and the slight of a blue green eye, but the same thumbs up as yours just closer and blown out similar to his face. As you picked the frame up, another photo fell out from behind. You bent down to pick it up and you realized it was from the same night, it was you and him, someone had taken this picture from behind you both, probably your sister. His arm was around your shoulder, the green shirt still on your back and him just in a white t-shirt. He was pointing at something and you were mesmerized by it.  While there was no way of telling what your face actually looked like from the photo, you knew you were because Tyler Owens always mesmerized you. Opening your dresser drawer to put the photo in was when you saw the same green shirt from that night folded under a couple old tank tops of yours. 

You swore it still smelt like him, which was impossible, you most definitely washed it after your drunken night but again, home had a weird way of holding feelings captive in objects. 

Without thinking, you draped the shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned, making your way over to the oval shaped full body mirror that was tucked in the corner of your room. One you had covered the frame with stickers and the stand with cardigans. As you stared at yourself in his shirt, you lifted your t-shirt to see not the same but the same color bra you had in the picture from all those years ago and you let out a chuckle and a head shake. As your body moved, so did the shirt, falling off your shoulder and without a second of hesitation, you plopped down on your bed, crisscrossed and searched your phone for his contact. 

Two rings. You’d thought it’d be disconnected, voicemail at best. You thought you’d hear a more matured tone of his voice than you could remember, telling you to leave a message after the tone, but instead you heard him answer and he sounded exactly the same. 

“Hey, storm girl.” 

There it was. Suddenly you were 16 again, and if you didn’t have recollection of every terrible thing that had happened in the last handful of years it would’ve been easy to fall back to that. Sitting in the room you grew up in, in your high school love’s shirt, your sister blasting Leon Bridges throughout the house, and Tyler answering the phone speaking a nickname you hadn’t heard in forever. 

“Didn’t think you’d pick up.” Bringing your knees to your chest, you rested your chin on them, again swearing that scent of him was still stained all over the shirt you still had casually draped over you. 

You could tell he was smiling through the phone. In spite of it having been years, there were just some things that you’d always be able to tell about someone you knew so well, so intimately. 

“Didn’t think you’d call.” His southern accent was so strong and it made you wonder if being away for all these years made you lose yours in a way that only he would notice.

“Just because I called you, doesn’t mean I miss you.” 

“Oh, well of course not.” 

And just like that, you were back in the teasing rhythm you always had with Tyler Owens. 

“You were just on my mind.” You replied. 

“Funny, I think I found you somewhere in mind recently too.” 

You smiled, and you knew he could tell you were smiling. “I found that shirt you gave me after I puked at that house party our graduation night in my bedroom.” 

“Asher Levi.” A laugh filled the speaker of the phone. “It was Asher Levi’s house party. I remember because a few of us took his jeans and created a zip line type of thing into his pool. I think that might’ve been what made you puke, that mixed with the drinking.” 

“Levi’s levis.” You remembered it so clearly, it was definitely less of a zip line and more just a single monkey bar if you recalled correctly, but it was definitely possible you didn’t with how much you drank. 

“Did you say in your bedroom?” Curiosity was littered all over his tone as he spoke. 

“I did.” Your eyebrows raised like you were shocked by the statement too. 

He was nodding, a nod that held so much emotion but he decided to answer with something a little more light hearted because he knew how hard it probably was for you to be where you were. “I thought I heard Leon Bridges in the background.” 

You laughed at that, it was your sister’s thing, and he would’ve known that better than anyone else. 

“Where are you right now?” You weren’t exactly sure what response you were expecting, but the one he gave definitely wasn’t it. 

“A motel on the coast of Oklahoma.” He sounded so amused, like he knew his sentence was going to leave you wondering how to answer.

“Oh.” Was all you could come up with, your mind was jumping through all the reasons why Tyler Owens was at a motel right now, some good, some bad, some you wished you didn’t think of, some that led you even more intrigued than the statement itself did. 

“How many scenarios just flashed through that pretty little head of yours?” He knew you too damn well. 

“Wasn’t counting but probably at least 17.” 

“Tell me one.” You couldn’t see it but he was kicking his feet up on a cooler as he sat back in a lawn chair. 

“I’ll tell you three. First one, hooker.” 

If he had a drink in his mouth, he would have spit it out, but instead just brought his feet down and sat up so he could let out a belly laugh. “A hooker?!” 

“I don’t know, maybe your game went down over the years, Owens. I don’t judge. Sex work is work.” 

“While I don’t judge either, I am not and was not with a prostitute.” 

“I know.” You agreed with him. “My second one was a little more upsetting. I was worried you got uprooted.” You were referencing a tornado, something so common where you grew up. 

“No, I’m not uprooted.” All joking tones were gone now as he reassured you. “What’s the third one you wanna share.” 

“I think it’s the right one.” 

“Well this I gotta hear.” There was that intrigue again. 

“You’re chasin’ storms.” You knew him too damn well, too. 

He opened his mouth in a smile, his tongue playing with the inside of his mouth knowing you were right on the money. “Ever since you left, I’ve been searchin’ for ‘em.” 

“Took a break to ride a few bulls, though.” You showed your cards with that one. 

“You’re cheating, you’ve looked me up.” 

“To be fair, you showed up on my instagram news feed a while back, something like ‘all the motivational phrases from hot cowboy Tyler Owens as he preps for his bull riding competitions’.” 

“Sounds about ri–wait so you don’t even follow me?” There was fake hurt coming through the phone towards you now. Realizing you were talking about a post from some news account, not even his own page.

“You don’t follow me! How can you be mad that I don’t follow you.” 

“I follow you. I liked your last post. Surfing in Sayulita.” He had you there. 

“You’re just looking at it right now.” There was actual defensiveness in your tone now. There was no way you didn’t realize Tyler Owens followed and liked your posts. 

“I feel kind of offended. I feel like I’ve been in contact with you this whole time you know, like I’ve been a part of your life from a far while you’ve just cut me out cold.” His cowboy drawl was strong in that sentence and you felt embarrassed almost. It was a reminder of the guilt you felt but it wasn’t something you’d discuss on the phone, this was meant to be reconnecting, fun, that Tyler Owens banter everyone knew and loved. And he knew it because he was following it up with more fluff. “If it makes you feel better, my instagram is all PR, Youtube stuff. I got a finsta for my cool stuff.” 

“Why do I picture you imitating the sunglasses emoji while you said that?” Your nostrils flared as you grinned.

“Because I did.” 

Now it was your turn to let out a belly laugh. 

“That’s probably why you didn’t realize it was me that was liking your posts.” He pulled his phone away from his ear and pulled up instagram to shoot you a DM. “There I just sent you a message so you can follow me back.” 

You saw the sunglasses emoji pop up on your phone alongside CloudTy. A play on Cloud nine,  the nickname you gave him. “Nice finsta name.” 

“Yeaaaa, someone cool gave it to me a bunch of years ago and it just stuck.” He was leaning back in the lawn chair now and he realized he hadn’t lost the smile on his face since he picked up the phone. 

“You want to pick me up?” You shocked yourself with the question and your boldness, but with how Tyler answered, that feeling of being 16 and in love again filled your heart. 

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” 

And just like that, your favorite Leon Bridges song came on. Appropriately titled, Coming Home. Falling back on your bed, you wished this feeling was one you could have drowned in forever. There were only a few people in this world where you could pick up where you last left off, and the list was short. Your family was a handful of them, but the difference is you always picked up at the same memory. The one each one of you were stuck reliving when you all came together. The reason you were back home to begin with. Tyler on the other hand, you picked up where it felt safe, familiar and just freeing. 

The door that led to your connected bathroom where your sister's room was to be found on the other side was opening and your head lifted up to see her one hand grasping the doorframe and the other still on the doorknob. “Uh, I think Tyler Owens just pulled into our driveway.” Her smile was hesitant and muddled as she waited for a reaction from you. 

“Okay, thanks.” You were jumping up, not eagerly because you weren’t stupid enough to act that way in front of your sister and open up the 20 questions. 

“Okay, sorry, I shouldn’t have worded it that way, why is Tyler Owens in our driveway?” She repeated her question in a different manner. It seemed like the 20 questions can opened up anyways. 

“He’s picking me up.” Again, said so nonchalant to throw off any more questions you weren’t sure you really had the answers too. You began gathering your stuff and ignored the full out beaming look your sister had on her face as she followed you downstairs. 

Opening the front door, your eyes fell on the same red dodge RAM he had in highschool, except now the truck was completely storm proofed. But you didn’t bother paying attention to the truck, your attention was on Tyler. His white cowboy hat matched his white t-shirt, his hand moved up to tip the hat down in a greeting and his smile was contagious.

“Okay, actually, I think my real question is, why is Tyler Owens in our driveway in a truck that looks like it belongs at a Monster Truck Rally?” You realized your sister was next to you and it broke your concentration. 

“You coming with us?” You were adjusting your stuff as you asked, breaking eye contact with him as you tucked your phone into your pocket. 

“No.” She answered quickly. “I’ll let you have your moment. Am I lying to mom and dad?” 

Wow, you really were 16 again. “No.” Your face twisted up, why would you need to lie to your parents, you were an adult. That’s when you heard the muffle sounds of the Luke Combs song, the guitar strums, although muffled, were enough to get your attention back on Tyler who was nodding his head to the beat. Suddenly, every bad thing you ever did with Tyler was running through your brain on loop. “On second thought, yes.” 

“God, for once I wish my life would present opportunities like this.” She mumbled under her breath as she wrapped her sweatshirt around her torso and ran up to the passenger window of Tyler’s truck. Shortly behind her you followed, hearing Tyler greet your sister and their quick conversation as she hung on the door through the open window, her feet on their tiptoes to reach. 

“Nora.” He greeted her. “How goes it.” 

“It goes.” She was looking around in his truck at all the modded technology. 

“You comin’ with us?” Tyler wasn’t asking in annoyance, he was asking because you knew he genuinely wouldn’t care if she tagged along, the invite was always there. 

“Nah, I’m running interference.” 

That earned you a look now from Tyler, he greeted you first before anything though, your name falling off his tongue with that extra drawl that managed to send chills down your spine. “Interference, huh?” 

“Every morally gray thing we’ve ever done flashed through my head and while I’m an adult, I think it’s better to fill my parents in on my whereabouts when I’m back.” 

Tyler chuckled with a nod. “What you plannin’ on tellin’ ‘em Nor?” His head fell back and his wrist rested on the steering wheel as he asked the question. 

“Could just say one of her girl friends took her to a party, maybe she went out to a last minute dinner with friends?” Your sister shrugged, it had been a while since she came up with a lie for you. 

“Dinner with friends. I think that’s a good one, not too far from the truth.” Tyler was teasing now and as much as you enjoyed the banter, you weren’t going to stand there all night. Squeezing past your sister so you could grab the door handle, she backed up and let you climb in, not stepping back too far though. “Tell you what, Nor, why don’t you just tell your parents, I took your sister storm chasin’.” He shrugged with his tongue playfully sticking out as he joked. 

“Be safe.” Your sister tapped the truck and started to head back inside. Suddenly, you didn’t feel 16 again, the butterflies of getting in your boyfriend's truck and the nerves of what was going to happen weren’t anywhere to be found. It was replaced with comfort and well, like the old feeling of being home. 

“Windows down?” Tyler asked as you hit the country roads after a few turns to get off your parent’s property. 

“Yea, windows down.” With your head out the window, the wind blew against your face. It was breezy but humid, you could see the clouds moving against the now pink sky as the sun continued to set. Even though home didn’t feel like home, this was as close to the feeling you had gotten in a while. Those Arkansas sunsets against the endless plains of land just brought you a feeling that felt like no other. 

“How are things?” His eyes were on the road as he asked. No teasing, no show, no banter. Just a genuine question. 

“I don’t know.” A genuine answer. 

He let the silence comfortably move in, the sounds of the road filling the space instead. 

“How about you?” It was a few minutes later when you asked him. 

“They’re alright.”

The road noise continued the conversation again. The wind howling became your voice and the thunder in the distance was Tyler’s as he continued to drive through the roads you both traveled on so much as kids. Music was still playing in the background, Tyler always had a knack for choosing the perfect driving playlists for each car ride you’d ever taken together, all based on the adventure and this was no different. 

“Why’d you come?” Your head was back in the car now, leaned against the headrest as you looked over at him. 

“Why wouldn’t I have?” Still one hand on the wheel, while the other was hanging out his door catching the wind. 

This conversation was going to be different from the one on the phone. The one on the phone was easy going, one that if you didn’t have the opportunity to see eachother it could’ve ended amicably and open to more down the road. This one was going to be facing all the things that couldn’t be said on the phone, only when you were sharing the same space. “We didn’t exactly leave things on the best terms.” Your head tilted slightly, like it was obvious why you were asking the original inquiry and he was still questioning it. 

“You didn’t exactly leave on the best terms.” He was correcting you but it was done so gently, giving you grace in some of your worst moments. 

“So you’re telling me you never held it against me? This entire time?” It was like you were begging to be punished for how you left things. 

“Never.” There wasn’t any doubt in his voice, and Tyler wasn’t the type of person to say anything he didn’t mean. 

“I don’t know how you do it.” WIth a deep breath you looked away from him and straight ahead on the road. 

“What’s that?” He asked, again the witty responses were long gone, this was the Tyler you fell in love with, not that the wild jokester wasn’t lovable either. That’s what pulled you in, but this, the real tender moments where sharing things without really actually saying them straight out was understood by him and when you did have it in you to really explain how you felt, things felt sacred. That’s what made you wonder if you ever truly fell out of love with the man driving. 

“Pretend like it never happened. I said awful things, Tyler. Awful things. And this whole time you’ve never held it against me? You’ve just–I don’t know what or how you do it.” 

Now he got what your question was. How could he be happy to pick up the phone to your call, how could he fall right back into rhythm with you, offer to pick you up, how could he not remember that last night you saw him. 

“We have so many great memories, one bad one isn’t going to just erase them all from my mind.” It was half an answer to your thoughts. “You were–” he stopped at that word, it felt weird referring to it in the past because if he was being honest, he still felt that way. “You are an important part of my life. We grew up together, you know.” There was another part answered. But you were waiting for that last bit. “I don’t pretend like it never happened. I could tell you exactly what you said, exactly what I felt when you said it, but it doesn’t change everything you said before, everything I felt before.” 

That should’ve been enough for you. That should have melted you, and if you were in a romance movie, maybe it would’ve. But you weren’t, and as much as you wished you could accept that and drop it you couldn’t. 

“I told you I couldn’t love you anymore.” You said it not to repeat the words, but to prove your point, and it broke you to even utter it out loud again. 

“You told me you couldn’t love anything anymore.” He corrected you again, his knuckles white as his grip tightened on the wheel and the loosened as the memory replayed in his head. “And when I asked you, ‘even me?’, you said ‘even you’.” 

The scene practically flashed in front of you like a slide projector. The rain, pouring down in your driveway, something that used to bring you so much joy, just added to the list of things ruined that day. Your tears mixed in with the drops of rain. Your black dress drenched, Tyler’s suit just as soaked. You were yelling, something you never did towards each other unless it was in a cheer of excitement. Granted, the rainfall was loud and your voices had to carry to be heard over it. As your eyes shut to get rid of the memory, you almost saw it clearer. The look on Tyler’s face when you said it. Like you had just gone inside his chest and ripped his heart out with your bare hands. 

“I–” You didn’t even know what to say, the guilt of it all eating at you at this moment. “I said awful things.” You repeated the same sentence as earlier, hoping that was enough to get across your sorrow, even though he didn’t need any of it, he knew even before you called. 

And so, he said what both of you were tiptoeing around. Not because he had to, you both knew why, you both knew the reason. But maybe talking about it or saying it outloud would do something about how you felt.

“You had just lost your brother.” 

And there it was. Grief had a funny way of popping up. Especially the first stages of it. And when your older brother died, from driving drunk on the freeway, two nights after your graduation, everything felt tainted with his memory. It was too much for you to deal with on top of dealing with mourning. You decided to leave home the night before the funeral. And to really add to the shittiness of the funeral day, you decided to solidify it as the worst day possible by also making it the day you broke up with the guy you were in love with, alongside of the day you buried your brother and the day you left home. 

“I lost everything.” Now it was your turn to correct him. Tyler wasn’t an asshole, he wasn’t going to say what you were thinking. How losing everything was on you, it could’ve just been one thing, one really awful thing but you had to go and make it worse. But that was just the thing. Tyler would never say that because he didn’t think it at all, you did. 

“I like this song.” You leaned forward to turn the speaker up. “What’s it called?” “Aimless.” 

You let out a snort. In your attempt to change the conversation, avoid the awkward and painful topic of this all, you managed to just end right back in the middle of it. “Kind of perfect.” 

“I figured you hadn’t found home yet, noticed you were kind of all over the map.” The kindness of this man. Despite knowing exactly what you meant, he still was giving you the grace to talk about travel, and while it still was dancing around the point of what you meant, it was giving you an out if you didn’t want to take the bait. And while you wanted to take it, to avoid this uncomfortable feeling, you didn’t. 

“Home has been hard to find since that day.” 

Tyler nodded in agreement, understanding why it would be. “S’why I don’t hold any of that against you.” 

And that’s when it really sunk in, Tyler got it. He had lost things too, knew how unpredictable the unravel of it all was. It didn’t make it right, it didn’t make it okay, but it made him see you. This entire time he saw you through the fog, while you were dead in the center of it, blind to it all. 

“Where we headed?” The lightness in your tone was more a product of feeling less heavy than when you arrived home versus wanting to change the topic.

“You’ll see, Storm girl.” His smile grew back on his face, the same lightness you felt was traveling over to his side of the truck, too, it seemed. He was shifting too, his left hand moved to the wheel while his right leaned on the center console. Your eyes fell down on it, staring at it as he mindlessly tapped to the beat of the next song playing, one he clearly listened to a lot to know the bass beats. That’s when you really took in where you were, back in Tyler’s life, and him back in yours. Without thinking you brought your hand to his and intertwined your fingers in his. He didn’t even flinch, or take a look down, he just opened his palm and welcomed you back in. No judgment, no pushback, no hesitation. And then, he squeezed it. Four times. Like a beating heart. The gesture you’d do when you were 16 and weren’t able to say anything. At parties, in the midst of the crowd, when you’d jump off those swimming hole cliffs, at dinner with your parents, and now, when the conversation felt itself hard to be had or maybe even just finished. 

It was then that you realized, he was driving up a mountain, the plains were fading in the rearview as he trekked up the trails. You knew exactly where he was taking you. Within minutes you were parking on an overlook ledge. The sky in its last stages of a sunset, the last chance to take a look at the cloud silhouettes, you could see the sunset on one side and the storm that was thundering on your way over on the other. It was your favorite spot to come and watch the storms brew years ago, sometimes the clouds would be low and dense enough to be gathered around the overlook. In fact some of them were currently, and you jumped out of the truck, looking up as the moisture was just an arms length away, moving towards the overlook where the view was a little clearer. Leaning forward against the rocks, you smiled and turned around to see you were alone in the dense cloud. In an instant your smile dropped until you heard Tyler’s voice. 

“I see you, I’m comin’.” 

He did see you. All along. When you were in the fog, he was always there. 

When he pushed through the moisture, he grabbed your hand, then brought it with his own over your head and then rested it across your torso, his body coming up behind you and intertwined in a hug as you looked at the storms. His head ducked down and pressed a kiss to your temple before standing straight up and pushing you back against him so you could feel his chest vibrate as he spoke the two words that allowed you to realize maybe it was time. 

“Welcome home.”

[clementinecleo]

Know how

young Ford + Reader

Summary..

You and Ford are working on a research paper, and you comfort him about his 'weirdness'

non genderd reader

💫

You and Ford first met in college due to having the same morning lecture. He was nervous and slightly confused when you decided to start a conversation with him about Constellations, and soon It was small things here and there. A walk n talk, or just a quick wave around campus. Eventually, you guys became acquaintances. Getting coffee and reading together, he was always nose deep in his books.

And one day during class, your professor announced a project for your midterm. Telling you all to form into groups of however many people, and you turned your head to look at Ford, who was sitting next to you. He was chewing on his pen before he noticed you staring at him.

You looked at his eyes, smiling gently as you spoke up. “Partners?” with a tilt of your head. He nodded. The rest of the class consisted of the professor explaining what to do and how to, and then let everyone go.

As you packed up and got ready to go back to your dorm to absolutely pass out, Ford cleared his throat. You shook the tiredness out of your head and glanced at him. “should we go to yours? For the project, I mean.” You interrupted him with a chuckle and replied. “Yeah, sure dude. Follow me” you gestured, walking down the steps with him trailing behind you like a stray dog.

As you both walked, you spoke up. "Hey, do you have any other friends? Not in a mean way- just I only ever see you walking alone."

Ford rubbed the back of his neck and replied solemnly. "Well my only close friend is fiddleford. He's my roommate. But he's in a lot of different programs so we don't see eachother much on campus other than in our shared dorm"

You grin, "Fiddleford? I remember him! He was the one who fell asleep in the fountain after a party right?"

Ford chuckled and nodded "I had to carry him back to our dorm. Woke up the next day not remembering anything from the night before."

You both walked in comfortable silence through the winding hallways. footsteps echoed and voices boomed as people passed by. At one point going down an elevator a girl giggled at Ford and murmured something crude about him. Immediately Ford shrunk back, shoving his hands in his pockets. You gave the girl a disgusted look before trying to walk up to her and ask why she was being a bitch but you felt a hesitant tug of your sleeve.

Ford had an unreadable look on his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets. muttering a small “it's fine, really. Don't worry about her.” you gave him a ‘are you sure?’ and he just nodded, then looked away.

The second week of you two casually hanging out, Ford asked looked up from his notebook and looked at you. "Why did you approach me, y/n?" he asked, curious about your reasoning.

And you awnserd truthfully. "Well, I actually thought you were really smart for someone going to..this college. And it fascinated me. What nade you want to come here? Whats your backstory.-" but halfway through talking you can see a very confused and surprised look on his face. And before you could even ask, he opened his mouth. “and..not for my fingers?”

He lifted both his hands towards you. wiggling them, really trying to prove that you supposedly faking it. This was his way if trying to freak you out and drive you away. But it back fired horribly.

You looked at him bewilderd, and as he held his hand up you counted. 1..2..3..4..5..6!

You gave him an excited smile and basically shouted at him. “Oh my god! I didn't even notice- that's so cool man!” after asking your 7th question about his hands you realized you had just made him extremely uncomfortable. And you apologized profusely. he didn't talk to you for a couple days after that. So you never dared to mention them again. Even going as far as to not look at his hands at all.

You guys got to your dorm and as you opened your door he was hit with the scent of your favorite candle and the cool air conditioning. His body relaxed, before he gently closed the door and sat on a nearby chair. Looking out of place while pulling out his note book in your very..interestingly decorated dorm.

“So, we should get started on the research first and make sure every source is as factual as possible-” He took his nose out of his book to look over at you to see if you were listening to him but your eyes were trained on his fingers.

"can I see your hand?" you ask with a blank face.

Oh.

He sighed. Why would he ever think he'd make a friend as popular as you? He went straight to overthinking. Imagining you laughing at him or running out the door to go gossip with your multitude of friends across campus. He gave up. Might aswell show you, he's never better for anything else but his weirdness.

You grabbed his hands so gently he barely noticed you even touched them. You handled them with such care as if you breathed the wrong way he'd shatter. Your hands were smooth and warm.

A shiver crawled down his back as you ran your index finger up and down each and every six of his fingers. Circling around every knuckle and especially his thumbs. Lifting his hand up so you could see his palm. Tracing the lines and indents across it- and it reminded him of when his mother would give him palm readings. and suddenly, he wasn't so afraid of you anymore. It all washed away.

You were absolutely and utterly mesmerized. You'd never seen such beautiful hands.

“Stanford, your hands are divine.”

You muttered out.

His heart jumped up into his throat and his face turned as pink as bubblegum, stammering and watching you fiddle with his middle finger..or well one of them. He watches in amazement, his heart beating through his chest. Butterflies galore, how could one ever handle holding hands with someone? Gosh he was overthinking- you're hands are so reassuring. This is too new, you're so gentle and any time your finger runs up his hand he tries not to let out an embarrassing gasp.

"Ford?" You speak up. "You still there?"

"Yes! of course. Why do you ask?" His hands are so sweaty now and suddenly he can smell his bo and gets self conscious on the one empty pizza box he left out.

"Everything about you is so intriguing and weird..but in a good way. Your hands- your fingers. They're amazing." you say in awe.

Fords cheeks go a deep red and he starts coughing, nodding along. And he froze when you said his fingers were amazing. "You really think so?" he says, locking eyes with you.

"Of course. I've never seen something so..stunning. You're such a oddball, Stanford Pines." you chuckled.

the rest of the night was filled with you and Ford having a deep conversation about things, almost forgetting you had a paper to work on.

You both smiled at eachother fondly and the night went on.

💫

[markerofthemidnight]

When the Miss Holloway backstory musical comes out, I hope it contains plenty of fourth-wall breaking on Holloway’s part.

When I say that, I mean imagine if it’s framed as her having the opportunity to share her backstory with a large group of people who, for once in her life, won’t forget it, and that’s why the musical’s happening.

There are certain intervals where she personally addresses the audience, like the Narrator likely will in Cinderella’s Castle, and sometimes in the middle of an actual important lore scene she’ll like, turn to the audience and make some silly remark or something, and also similar fourth-wall breaking bits, such as:

Her referring to a character by their actor’s name before correcting herself in the middle of an interval (sarcastically with quotation marks on the character’s name, or in some other way that makes it clear to the audience that this is a bit and not a genuine slip up)

Refers to the audience as “The Watchers with 1000 Eyes” at some point, before adding, “Thankfully not the real Watcher with 1000 Eyes, but hey, even if it was, it certainly wouldn’t be my first time having to deal with him.”

If there’s a scene where she plays Run Away With Me, she turns to the audience beforehand and goes “Sing along if you know the words.” Once the music starts and they inevitably all start screaming upon realising what she’s about to play, she just smiles at them and winks before starting to sing.

Right before she summons the Lords in Black for the first time, she goes, “Now, I feel the need to add: please don’t sing along if you know the words. They’ll get enough attention tonight just with this scene alone, we don’t need about 350-or-so people summoning them all at once.”

To make that bit even better, the next time there’s an interval after she makes that deal, she’ll be in the middle of talking to the audience before being interrupted by one of the Lords for a few seconds (which one maybe being different each show, like it being Pokey on the digital ticket and Tinky on the one that eventually goes to YouTube), after which she turns back to them and goes, “You sung along, didn’t you, you bastards?”

[fractalunicore]

Sync suits for Tabitha and Shelly! (Shelly and Huntail, Tabitha and Elgyem)

Alt version and some headcanon stuff under the cut

Initially I created these designs with the intention of them being fanmade sync pairs for Pokemon masters ex (Shelly and Huntail, Tabitha and Eglyem), with the premise that the two dress up as Pokemon professors to steal data but end up constantly running into each other and foiling each others plans, however they’re also intended to be hypothetical designs for what Tabitha and Shelly would’ve looked like before joining Team magma/Team aqua based on some personal headcanons and what we know of their backstories in game.

The reason Tabitha is based on deoxys is because I like to think he once saw it and became obsessed with extraterrestrial life before he became more mature and focused. Because of his love of space, his team was once made up of Pokemon like elgyem and magnezone, hence the sync pair pairing (and also because they gave deoxys to Steven already) which he eventually switched out once he became an admin.

The Magma suit and Aqua suits used in the delta episode were made through the collective work of their respective teams, but I like to think it was something he and Shelly were working on together with the hope that they could potentially find Jirachi and deoxys again before they left Devon corp to work as admins, taking their own copies of the initial blueprints with them. Despite their rivalry, I think they’d sometimes compromise to share stories with one another about their encounters with strange Pokemon like Jirachi, and when working together they’d produce great results.

The reason Shelly has a Huntail is because she enjoys diving and perhaps picked up a clampearl or two when she was younger which eventually evolved. Underneath her trousers and lab coat she’s wearing a diving suit, and after work she’d go for a swim with her huntail to let off steam. Another reason why I gave her huntail as a partner is because I think it’s a missed opportunity to not have the admins use more varied Pokemon to set them apart from regular grunts. Huntail fits Shelly perfectly, showing off her more brutal side, but also plays more into her intelligence by having her vary up her team to throw the player off guard.

[oceaneyesinla]

I just watched the demon slayer and I can't stop thinking about my favorite character. Sanemi, unfortunately, there are very few scenarios and posts about it. Please, it doesn't matter to me what you write, just write to me from him, please😭

Hi! Thank you for being my very first request! <3 Requests OPEN (see link for details)

I hope you've been enjoying Demon Slayer! My heart is breaking for Sanemi and Genya this season so lets call this fix it fic. If this wasn't what you were looking for, let me know (i am always happy to write for Sanemi <3)

CW: implications of domestic violence (not between Sanemi and reader)

Spoilers for the new season of Demon Slayer, and for Sanemi and Genya's backstory

Divider by @/cafekitsune

You knew something had happened. Sanemi was making a valiant effort to hide the pain clawing at his heart, but you knew him too well for that. You could see the frown that slipped onto his face whenever he thought you weren't looking, and you never failed to notice when he slipped out of your shared futon in the middle of the night. He tried to slink away unnoticed, but you stirred every time the warmth of his body pulled away from yours.

For a few days, you allowed it - you continued your usual routine; sharing a tender kiss before he left for training as the sun rose, and welcoming him home with a freshly cooked meal once he finally returned from his extra training with Iguro and Tokito. You feigned sleep as he carefully extricated himself from your hold and left your side.

After a week, you couldn’t stand it any longer. Your husband was hurting, and you knew he would never willingly confide in you. Not because he didn’t trust you, never that, but because he would never think of burdening you with the monsters of his past and the darkness that came with life as a Demon Slayer. He treated you like the only star in a moonless sky and while you loved to be his guiding light, you wanted nothing more than to descend from the heavens he held you in and cradle his battered, bruised heart in your hands.

Which is why, on that seventh night, when you woke to him escaping your grasp, you reached out and wrapped a hand around his wrist, blinking sleep out of your eyes as you stared up at him. What you found there made you more alert in an instant - wetness, shimmering on his skin in the moonlight through the window. Your Sanemi, usually the picture of composure, was … crying.

He must have noted your concern, some shift in your expression, because he used the hand not grasped in yours to roughly wipe at his cheeks, as if he could wipe away your memory of this at the same time as the tears.

“Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you.” His voice was rough, and even if you had been planning to do as he said before he opened his mouth, you would have changed your mind upon hearing him.

Instead, you sat up, gently tugging him closer to you, encouraging him to sit by your side. Slowly, he complied, never meeting your eye as he did so but also never pulling his hand out of your weak hold. You cradled his hand in both of yours, stroking gentle trails across his palm and down his thick forearm, taking extra care over the scars littering his skin. You didn’t ask - he would talk in time.

A deep sigh left him, as did another couple of tears making silent trails down his cheek. You just kept up your loving affection, and eventually, he spoke again, soft even in the quiet of the night, “I … had a nightmare.”

Your poor Sanemi. His life had been full of tragedy, and as much as he claimed that your love was his saving grace, you wished there was more you could do to soothe the deep scars in his heart and mind. You wondered what had haunted him tonight - was it the memory of pure terror as his mother mindlessly attacked her precious children, or was it the crippling grief of returning to an empty home, greeted only by the lifeless bodies of his beloved little siblings?

“There’s something I never told you, about my family.” He looked up to meet your eye, finally, and you hated the haunted look behind the deep purple you loved so much, “One of my siblings survived.”

What? He had revealed everything about the tragedy that tore his family apart and left him alone in the world to you. He stumbled over the words under the cover of darkness, on a night not unlike this one, not long after you began courting. He had told you all about the way he wrestled his mother away from his siblings, and the way he hit her with all his strength, focusing only on protecting his family. He broke down as he confessed that he felt just like his father as his hands connected with his mother’s body, knowing that he had no other choice.

In hindsight, you remembered how he hesitated to explain the moments between dragging his mother into the street and returning to his home once the sun rose and her body crumbled away. At the time, you never questioned it - he was just a child when all this happened, and he was recounting the most traumatic experience of his life. Now, you know that hesitation was because he was editing the story as he told it.

“Genya, the eldest. He was holding little Koto … Ma only managed to catch across his nose.” Your heart ached as you imagined that poor boy - left clutching his baby brother, surrounded by the corpses of the siblings he had made a pact to protect. What had happened between them, to lead to them being so distant that Sanemi never mentioned that he lived?

“This nightmare was about him?” You lifted Sanemi’s hand to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He looked far younger than his twenty one years as he stared at you, as if he had been expecting words of anger instead of your gentle gesture.

The innocent surprise quickly turned to something far darker as guilt lined his face. He tried to pull his hand out of your hold but you wouldn’t allow it, tangling your fingers together instead. A little huff escaped him at your stubborn act and it reassured you, if only a little. There was the Sanemi you recognised.

“He tried following me into the Corps, but he can’t even use a Breathing Style! The idiot will never stand a chance.” Sanemi sounded frustrated, but you knew him well enough to hear what he wasn’t saying.

“You’re scared you’ll lose him too. It doesn’t matter if he hates you, as long as he’s alive.” Your voice was soft, but Sanemi still looked at you like you slapped him. Another couple of tears welled up on his lash line and broke free, rolling down his cheeks.

“I told him I don’t have a brother. I attacked him. I nearly -” His voice broke, and so did your heart. For both of them. For Sanemi, trying desperately to protect his little brother in the only way he knew, and for Genya, who you couldn’t help but imagine as a little boy with Sanemi’s eyes and a scar across his face.

You were putting the pieces together, and everything seemed clearer, “This happened last week, didn’t it? I knew something was wrong. I wish you said something sooner, love.” He just blinked at you, watching your face as if he thought you would suddenly turn on him and declare his actions unforgivable. You refused to play into his self loathing. The way he treated his brother, his only remaining family, was harsh, but you knew your husband. The front he showed the world was just that - a front. You knew the man underneath that harsh exterior. This was the man who helped you with chores even when he had been awake all night fighting demons, and this was the man who held you like the most delicate flower and looked at you like the finest artwork in the land.

“Did that work? Did he give up on being a Demon Slayer?”

Sanemi shook his head, scowl on his face, “Nah. He’s at Himejima’s now, for Hashira training.”

“You should bring him here.” At your suggestion, Sanemi went to shake his head but you carried on before he could shoot you down, “I want to meet him, and it might be time for a different approach.” You reached up to cradle Sanemi’s cheek, hoping to soften the blow of your next words, “Something big is coming, my love - even I can feel it, and I’m not a member of the Corps. You should make amends. You would never forgive yourself if he died thinking you hate him.”

Sanemi flinched at the mere mention of his brother dying, but his gaze never left yours. His expression was still guarded, as if waiting for your judgement. You brought your other hand up to hold his face between your palms as you spoke, “Stop looking at me like you expect me to berate you. You wanted to protect Genya. That doesn’t make you a monster.”

His face crumpled, “I laid hands on him. I nearly blinded him. I will never deserve his forgiveness.”

“Genya is the only one who can decide that, love.” Your thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin under his eyes, wiping away the remnants of his tears as a soft smile tugged at your lips, “You’re a good man, Sanemi.”

As soon as those words settled in his ears, he was moving - surging forwards to clutch you against him, face pressed into the juncture of your neck. With some effort, you manoeuvred you both into laying down - his hands never leaving you. You let him hold you close, running  a hand through his soft, white hair. The path to reconciliation between the two brothers would almost certainly be difficult, but you would be by his side through whatever may come. Your husband deserved to have peace, and he deserved to be a big brother again.

[autisticaradiamegido]

Hey since your requests are open, could you maybe draw Hal? Doing anything, I don't really care what (only if you want)

day 96

YES i actually got 2 thinking about hal today thanks to this post (and my tags even passed peer review yippee thank u) ANYWAY. in addition to all of that. I HAVE ALWAYS THOUGHT he and aradia would be friends.

ok i wrote all this out and it got long and kinda rambly bc im tired so im putting it under a cut lmao HALRADIA FRIENDSHIP RANT IN THE READMORE

i think there would be.... maybe a little tension given that aradia eventually ended up in Her Own Flesh And Blood Body and hal would presumably not have that option?

but overall i think after the way her friends treated her as a robot, and the experience of going from experiencing life as a living breathing organic person to a bodiless entity to HAVING a body but that body not being the same as the one you remember.... idk! it's like EXTREMELY EXTREMELY SPECIFIC AND MORE THAN A LITTLE TRAUMATIC and they could share it with each other!! how fucking lovely is that.

not to mention they both kind of have a history with equius?? (assuming this is post arquiusprite in some way. i certainly have an extremely self-indulgent "everyone lives" au for this scenario where they're able to safely separate into their pre-sprite components and then hal and aradia become buds.)

REGARDLESS i think it would be interesting for hal (who has ostensibly nothing but positive shit to say about his connection to equius) and aradia (who has some truly fucked things to say about her experiences with equius) to Talk Through All That.

not 2 mention the parallels that can be drawn between dirk/hal's perception of their relationship with jake being this kind of... Manipulative Pining Weirdness, and aradia being on the other side of somebody else's Manipulative Pining Weirdness and sharing that perspective without even knowing about all of that dirkjake backstory OUGH im tellin u it is all a very complex and wonderful scenario to consider and like, im not even much of an alpha kid aficionado tbh. hal experts chime in on the comments i know youre out there and i wanna hear your takes.

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 4

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 5041

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: This new life feels like a dream, and you're finding it hard to believe. How could you be here, how could you be safe? How could you be wanted?

Author's Note: Heeyy, so I swear there's smut in here, but our misty eyed reader has trauma, so a little patience is required.

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

“You’re such a–”

Law kissed his laugh into your mouth, and you couldn’t hold onto your outrage. 

Instead, you held onto him.

Law. 

He was alive. He was with you. He was kissing you. 

One of his hands teased into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb tracing along your cheek. You didn’t know what to reach for, your fingers clawing into his shirt while you went to pieces. 

His kiss was somehow desperate and gentle. Deep and slow, with needy sounds shared between you. Writhing under the weight of his body, your eyes went misty from overwhelm. You wanted to pull him inside your chest, keeping him in the hole he’d carved, so you could feel this way forever. 

“Are you okay,” he breathed, his thumb smoothing away the grateful tears.

“So good,” you laughed, the sweet smile he gave pulling a happy sob from your throat. 

Law kissed along your temple, your cheek, following your jaw down as you gasped, your breath shuddering through you. He breathed along your skin, tracing the tip of his nose, then his lips over the crook of your neck before leaving gentle kisses, a deep hum vibrating through him. 

Your skin was electric, shivers running through you as you arched your back. Breathy whines escaped you, crying out when he rasped your name. 

You tugged at his shirt, moaning as you yanked it up to feel his skin. He pulled back from your struggle, and your breath caught when he stared down at you. His golden eyes were dark as he pulled his shirt off, your eyes fluttering back at the sight of his tattooed skin. His body caged you in before he tasted your lips again. 

He was still pinning you, your thighs trapped beneath his weight. 

But that gave you more access to pull at the buttons of his jeans, whining when he stopped your frantic fingers. 

“Can I take my time with you,” Law asked, his husky voice making you shake. He brought your knuckles to his lips before he looked around, brows creasing at the sight of hate papering the walls. “There’s a couch in my quarters next door, do you–”

Your breathless “yes,” interrupted him, and he kissed you again before helping you up. He laughed at your pout when he pulled his shirt back on, before leading you by the hand.

“Aren’t you the captain? Can’t you do what you want,” you whispered behind him while he looked back and forth down the hallway. 

He ignored you, pulling you toward the next room when he saw the coast was clear. You couldn’t help the giggles that escaped, echoing down the corridor. Your laughs only grew when he huffed, pressing you against the closed door when he got you inside.

“Do you remember sneaking into the storeroom to steal weapons?”

His scolding glare faltered, his lips quirking as you watched the memory form in his mind. 

“Yeah, you got us caught,” he taunted, tracing his fingers along your hair, his eyes seeming to eat up every detail of your face. Including the indignant furrowing of your brows. 

“I did not! It wasn’t my fault, I only tripped because Cora dropped his…”

It was subtle, but the slight grimace on Law’s face made you want to never speak again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I don’t think I know what really happened with you and–”

“It’s fine. I don’t wanna talk about it,” Law straightened, pulling back from you before adding, “not right now.”

How do I fuck up literally everything?

“Come on,” he tugged at your fingers with a small smile. His quarters were large, and you bit your lip at the sight of his bed, his covers ruffled from last night’s sleep. He gestured for you to join him on the couch, but you skirted around him.

“Oh my gods, are you kidding me?”

A large set of shelves lined the wall behind the couch, and you misted out of his grabbing hands to get a closer look.

Turning back to him with a laugh, your eyes wide with gleeful shock, you pointed at the displays.

“I haven’t seen these in ages!”

You reached into the shelf, picking up one of the early Sora comics from its display stand.

“Hey, careful,” Law cautioned, throwing his long legs over the back of the couch to take the thin book from your grasp.

“Really,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as he returned the book with care. You looked over the rest of the shelves, leaning in to examine the rows of coins he’d displayed between the comics.

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

“Hobbies are important for maintaining mental health,” he said blandly, not meeting your eyes as he looked over his collection. 

“Whatever you say, nerd,” you laughed, touching his waist to force him to look at you. “I think it’s cute.”

He scowled as you bounced on your toes, narrowing his eyes before giving in, pulling you into a kiss. 

“Shut up.”

His soft command touched your lips, your laughter still humming through the kiss. Grinning, you curled your fingers into his black hair.

“Make me.”

Law huffed a laugh, your favorite smirk shining through before you squealed as he picked you up. He sat you on the back of the couch, legs scrambling around his waist. Your mind was empty of everything, but the need to feel more of him. 

Until you slid backwards. 

“Shit, sorry,” he apologized, gripping your arms before your back could hit the cushions with your head toward the floor. He helped you turn, moving your legs to the side so you laid across the long couch.

“Already trying to kill me?”

You couldn’t remember feeling this light, this free, as you did teasing him. As he crawled on top of you, the weight and scent of him making you sigh. The feel of his tongue trailing your neck before he nibbled at your ear, bringing another squeal while you shivered. The look in his eyes almost brought tears to your own.

I can’t believe he’s real. 

“Not yet,” he purred, tracing his hand along your waist. He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you until you couldn’t take it. You whined, fighting with his shirt until he grinned and pulled it off. 

“Impatient–” he scolded, giving a surprised laugh when your hands reached the waistband of his jeans again. Law moved you gently so he could sit beside you, but you wasted no time in straddling him. You’d already tossed your shirt aside, fingers reaching for the clasp of your bra.

“Hey, hold on, Y/N,” he hummed, hugging you against him to slow you down. The sound of your heart somehow pounded in your head, even though it was trapped in the next room. 

Law sat back, his warm hands stroking down your arms. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he praised, eyes soft as he gazed at you. His head fell back, letting out a surprised moan when you rocked your body forward. The feel of his hard cock through all that fabric stunned you, and your body grinded onto his on instinct. 

His whispered, “fuck,” was lost in a feverish kiss, and you managed to tear your bra off while his strong hands pulled your hips down further. 

“Wait,” he muttered, voice almost pained. Pulling away, his eyes rolled back slightly at the sight of your bare chest. You had to bite your lip hard not to reach for him again. 

“What is it?” 

Worry had broken through your question, and you couldn’t fight the fears that crept in. Both of you panted for a few moments, lungs fighting for air after stealing it from each other’s lips.

He doesn’t want me. How could he want me after Doffy touched me?

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he checked in, smoothing the hair from your face. “We don’t need to rush anything.”

You knew his words should be comforting, but the hot pressure of tears built in your throat, your mind filling with the torment of words that you knew weren’t your own. 

‘My disgusting little doll. So pretty. So sick. That’s the only thing you’re good for, huh? Such an empty little toy. Maybe one day you'll be worth more. Think you can carry the blood of kings in this weak body of yours?’

“Y/N? Y/N, you’re safe.”

Part of you heard his voice while your body stayed frozen, eyes stuck wide as your nails dug into his shoulders. Fighting to shake free, you mumbled what was meant to be an apology as your hands slumped onto your lap. The sticky weight of wet cement kept every thought and movement sluggish, and you barely reacted when Law pulled a thin blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping you up.

“Mmsrry,” you slurred, unsure how long you’d been frozen. He rubbed his hands lightly on your blanket covered arms, shaking his head. 

“Don’t be. Just let me know what you need, okay? Can I get you some water?”

A jarring laugh fell from your lips, but you managed to nod. He sat you on the couch, fussing with the blanket to make sure you were comfortable and covered. Burning tears pricked your eyes as he went into an adjacent room. The sound of running water covered a strangled cry, but your eyes were dry when he returned with a glass. 

Law sat on the coffee table, but stayed quiet, leaving your thoughts to berate you for putting him through this. Shame piled on you, until something in you cracked open, his gentle question opening the way.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You can do surgery,” you remembered, the words rough and empty.

“Yeah, I can,” he confirmed after a pause. Your body almost went slow again, but the urgency of terror pushed you, forcing you to reach for help. 

“Can you, please… please, sterilize me?”

Your fragile voice strained high at the last words, and the rocking of your body sped up, your eyes clamping shut. 

“Please, Law, I can’t–”

“I’m right here, Y/N. You can talk to me.”

Tears fell onto your thighs as you looked down. Nauseating guilt poured through you, a confession flooding from your lips like bile. 

“I was selfish. I wasn’t ready. I’m too weak.”

Law argued softly, his hand on your shoulder doing nothing to stop the stream of ugly truths. 

“I tricked… I made her help me,” you bawled, memories flowing in until you shook with shame. “Baby 5 still does everything. I took advantage of her. He would have hurt her, killed her! I’m disgusting, I’m sick. How could I–”

“Y/N, stop,” he commanded, shocking you into stillness. “You are not sick. You were a prisoner. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I–” you choked, blinking into his steady gaze, “Doffy said I’d finally prove myself if I… If I could carry a superior life in my body. If I could survive it tearing itself out of me.”

Your ragged breath caught in your lungs at the sight of Law’s towering rage, a barely contained snarl only dropping when he released the bruising grip he’d taken on your shoulder. You interrupted his apology, somehow feeling calmer after his display of anger. 

“Baby 5’s compulsion has only gotten worse over the years,” you explained, detached from the story now as you followed Law’s orders. “I told her I needed her help, and she did it, even though she disagreed. Even though she would be punished if he found out.”

~🔪🔫🗡️~

“Shouldn’t you be asking the young master about this,” Baby 5 frowned, crossing her arms as she assessed you.

“Yes, but–”

“Are you keeping secrets from him,” she accused, one of her arms shifting into a sickle to hold against your throat, even though she knew it wouldn’t connect. “I knew you were weak, but I never thought you’d be a traitor.”

“Please, Baby 5,” you begged, hands misty as you held them toward her, “I need you. I need your help.”

“... You need me?”

~🔪🔫🗡️~

The gravity of what you’d done sank into you again, but his waiting gaze pushed you through, separating from the pain and shame behind your confession. 

“I wasn’t ready. I never wanted to be ready. Especially for him. Even when I wanted to be his, I never wanted that. He promised I’d be rewarded, that I’d be worthy of the family. But I never wanted kids, and I knew that he… I knew I might not survive–”

Fear and bile caught up with you, leaning forward over your lap to hit your fists against your forehead.

“We’re safe here,” he reminded you, grabbing your wrists gently until you shuddered, sitting up again. 

“I couldn’t go anywhere without him knowing. I wouldn’t be able to hide pills without someone finding them, and reporting me. Everyone…” you choked out, swallowing the humiliation that threatened to spill into the world, “everyone knew what I was. Everyone knew that the only thing I’m good for–”

“Stop saying that,” he seethed, his knuckles going white as his fists clenched in his lap. The rage in him relaxed your body, nodding before you went on.

“I made Baby 5 steal birth control shots for me, and she’d give them to me every three months. I put her life at risk, he would’ve… I’m so selfish.”

Your sins were revealed as the man before you shook beneath his skin. Watching the play of muscles flexing in his jaw was almost soothing.

“I have two months left of this shot,” you pleaded, head falling back against the couch. “Please do the surgery. Please.”

Law stared at you for too long. Your body went weak, slow tears dripping down your temples to your ears, and you were too spent to wipe them away. 

I’ll never be safe. Doffy will find me. He’ll chain me up until I give him what he wants. I’ll birth another monster that will taste my blood on their lips before I’m free to die.

If Doffy doesn’t just torture and kill me as soon as he catches me.

“I can do it in a way that can be reversed,” he breathed, his words icing your veins, “but I don’t know another doctor that would know how to reverse it for you safely.”

“I don’t want it reversed,” you flew forward, clawing at his hands. “Just do it, please! If you can reverse it, you don’t have to believe me, but I swear it’s what I want.”

“... Can we think about it for a few days,” he coaxed.

Slow hit your system again.

Of course he wouldn’t do that. It’s all I’m good for. 

“I’m not saying no.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, the embarrassment of this whole interaction making you want to sleep forever. “I’m sor–”

“Stop,” he rasped, his fingers in your hair as he cradled your face. “How can I help you feel better right now?”

Another manic laugh left your throat, and you cringed at yourself, fighting not to apologize again. 

“Do you,” Law cleared his throat, a tentative smile tugging at his lips, “do you wanna read Sora with me?”

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Do you miss that little traitor?”

“N-no, Doffy, I just–”

He snatched the wanted poster from your grasp, sneering before ripping it in half, letting the pieces fall to the marble floor. 

“It’s funny,” he huffed, pinching your cheeks between his long fingers, “you’ve been so loyal all these years, and that boy betrayed our family. But he’s the useful one.”

Holding in your cries at his punishing grip, you braced yourself for whatever came next. 

It was a brutal kiss, and you fell into it, giving everything you were to your king. 

Doffy pulled back, that wide grin beaming down at you, his fingers tracing your face, pressing into your mouth. 

“Such a pretty doll.”

~🦩🦩🦩~

Small whimpers from your own lips shook you awake, and you stilled. The heat and pressure of Doffy’s body didn’t seem to be near. 

And the sheets weren’t silk. 

“Good morning,” Law rasped, his hair beautifully mussed as he looked up from a book. The couch looked cozy with his pillow and blanket, bringing a disgruntled whine from your throat as you stretched across his lonely bed. 

“Are you up for work today?”

He chuckled at your second whine, and you felt his weight on the edge of the bed while you buried your face in the pillow. 

“You don’t wanna disappoint Ikkaku,” he teased, shaking your shoulder gently. “Believe me, I know.”

More wordless complaints made him laugh, and that sound alone got you to shake your sleep away.

That, and the soft kisses he gave, the slow sharing of morning breath that kicked you both to the bathroom to brush teeth, fingers pinching at each other's ribs. 

So fucking cute. Until you left his quarters, and he held up that stoic face in front of his crew, even though you could tell they saw through it. 

The Surgeon of Death. That angry, smirking, dangerous kid that turned into a vicious Warlord of the Sea. 

He was a sweetie pie. 

I can’t wait to call him that. 

~

You had a feeling that “Weps” would be your favorite position on the ship. There was something about the sonar that scratched a part of your brain, and Ikkaku was still the most relaxing person to be around. No need to fill the quiet with chatter, and no personal questions to skirt. Just instructions, a few jokes now and then, and the occasional “no slouching at sonar, slacker,” always followed with a wink.

“Ooh, I think you’re in trouble.”

Your head shot up at her whispered tease, only to find Law's grumpy face assessing you from the doorway. 

Was I slouching?

“Our new recruit will join you for morning shifts for the rest of the week, and I expect a full report on her performance.”

“Yes, captain,” she nodded, her face matching his serious tone. You tried not to gulp.

“Come with me,” the captain ordered, and you found yourself slipping easily into obedience, low level anxiety wrapping comfortably around you. 

“Am I in trouble,” you tried to joke, keeping your voice quiet in the halls.

“What? No,” he shook his head, gesturing to the now familiar door. “It’s lunchtime.”

Your soft, “oh,” was drowned out by the crew, although there weren’t many in the galley at the moment. Jean Bart’s greeting boomed from his massive form, the sound heavy enough for multiple pirates.

Anxiety stuck with you throughout the meal, up until Law brought you to the training room. 

“I thought we were doing an interview today,” you asked, feet still planted in the hallway. 

“Changed my mind. Unless you’re too scared to fight me,” he deadpanned, walking into the room without glancing to see if you’d follow. That feeling was back. That familiar, yet thrilling feeling of playful competition, and it pulled you out of your spiral.

“Jerk,” you huffed, chasing after him.

“Disrespecting your captain again,” he tutted as he pulled you onto the mats. He faced off with you with a smirk, looking you up and down while you moved into a fighting stance. “You’ve got the nerve to mouth off when you’re this out of shape?”

You were the first to strike this time, and it did not go your way.

~

“You know, you could be a little nicer,” you grumbled, nudging his book with your toes. After an embarrassing training session, annoyingly separate showers, and a dinner with too many energetic crewmates, you shoved your feet onto his lap while you stretched across his couch. 

“Could I?”

The purr in his voice made your breath hitch, pressing your toes a little further into his lap until he tossed his book on the table. 

He caught your feet, tattooed hands rubbing gently before he pushed them away. More guilt and fear that he didn’t want you started to creep in, until you felt his weight. Until he kissed those doubts away. 

“How could I be nicer,” he rasped, his facial hair making you shiver as he breathed along your neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist, loving the quiet gasp he let out. 

“Fuck me, Law.”

His body moved against yours, just a bit, and your back arched at the feel of his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Please,” you begged, with your nails twisting through his hair, “I want you.”

He kissed you again, and his heavy-lidded eyes rolled back when you scraped his bottom lip between your teeth. 

Your body mourned the loss of his heat as he sat back on his heels. The urge to grab him, to pull him toward you, to take him in, had you fighting yourself, but you couldn’t stop your body from writhing. Near-panicked fingers dragged over your own clothes, and you tried not to sob with need.

“Y/N,” he coaxed, his ragged breathing like another temptation you had to fight against, “I want you to feel safe. We can stop anytime, you can tell me–”

“Please, gods, fuck me, Law. I nee–”

Your desperate moan echoed into his mouth as he grinded against you. He helped you rip the shirt from his body, then pulled you up to sit as you tore the suffocating fabric from your own skin. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Law swooned, going to his knees on the floor for better access to trail his lips down your shoulders, your chest, your stomach. He let out a needy moan when you threw your bra to the side. You nodded as he glanced up at you, then arched your back when he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples. 

He massaged your breast while he sucked and swirled his tongue, his free hand rubbing a thumb across your other nipple, balancing out the attention. You leaned back on your hands, gasping when he switched sides, when he moaned with your flesh in his mouth. 

Then you pulled at his arms, needing to feel more of him. You agreed to his breathy, “bed,” and kissed your way across his shoulder and neck while he carried you across the room. 

Your long lost friend crawled onto the bed on his knees to lay you down gently against the pillows, and you couldn’t take another second of waiting. 

Finally, he let you tear at his jeans, falling forward to cage you in while you reached into the stiff fabric. Taking his cock in your hand for the first time, even still constrained in his tight pants, made your mind go blank with need. The veins pulsing beneath your fingers sent your body bucking beneath his. 

“Wait,” you pleaded, pathetic noises leaving your throat as he moved away. But his movement just brought his lips down your skin again, until his darkened eyes looked up at you from between your legs, his fingers dancing at the waistband of your pants. 

“Yes,” you ordered before he could ask. 

Running your fingers along your inner thighs, you lost yourself in the way he looked at you. Law’s eyes devoured every bare inch of your skin, the wet aching center of you just waiting for him to take you. 

“Please,” you begged again.

He let out a sound that might have been a growl, but it was lost when he plunged his face into your folds. You cried out his name, reaching for his fingers that had wrapped around your hips, then tugged at the strands of his hair again, clinging while he ate at you. 

The sensations were overwhelming, his hungry tongue, his facial hair teasing at your skin, the whimpers and whines he sent vibrating into that sensitive piece of you. His little sounds got louder each time you pulled at his hair, as you tried to draw him up toward you. 

Law drank you in like you were the last bit of water left on the planet. Kissing, and sucking, and plunging deep, his eyes burned hot while he watched you. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he slurred, messy face coming up for air for just a second. He thrust against the mattress, his jeans undone, but still restricting him while he writhed. 

Tugging at his hair wasn’t enough, now you were reaching further. You scratched at his shoulders, your fingers dragging across his skin as you fought to pull him up. He just moaned at the contact, bringing his own fingers to push inside you, curling gently while he sucked your clit. 

Your back arched for him, but your breathing turned to chaos. The word, “please,” filled the air, but your voice was broken, almost panicked. 

“I’m so sorry, are you alright,” he pulled away, wiping his face before he moved out from between your legs. He touched your cheek with his fingertips, sitting beside you as his soothing voice surrounded you. 

“You’re safe, it’s okay. What do you need– whoa!”

His pants had to come off. You needed to make him feel good. The need was so intense, so vital, you didn’t think you could breathe until you felt his pleasure. 

“Fuck me, please.”

“But you–”

You interrupted his counter, sitting up to kiss his still wet face. 

“Please, Law. I’m telling you what I want,” you pleaded, your hands playing dangerously close along his stomach, but waiting for permission. “I want this. I want you.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me to stop if you–”

“I promise.”

He stared for a long moment, and you almost sobbed for him, aching for him now. When he crawled off the bed to strip, you forgot everything else. Those gorgeous tattoos added to the work of art that was his lean, sculpted body. The sight of his thick cock springing free from those tight pants, already so swollen and dripping for you, had you twisting in his sheets. 

“Law, need you…”

“I need you too, Y/N,” he rasped, crawling up your body again. He scanned your face, bringing the hard length of him to slide along your core, arching your back while he drenched himself in you. “So wet…”

Another delicate kiss left the taste of both of you on your tongue before his eyes drank you in. A small, impatient whine started to form in your throat, but the slow stretch of his leaking cock took your breath away. 

“You feel incredible,” he sighed while you pulled him closer. His lips traced down your jaw, under your ear, letting you hear his soft, eager moans as he filled you. You could feel every vein throbbing as his shaft dragged through you, until there was nowhere left to fill. 

He stayed for a second too long, fully hilted within you, but your demanding body took over.

Law moaned, bracing himself on an arm to keep from falling onto you. Your hips were driving up to meet his, fucking onto him while you panted, starved for him. 

“Gods, you’re perfect.”

His praise was joined by deep, rolling thrusts that sent your eyes fluttering white. Still writhing beneath him, you gasped when his lips found yours again, one of his hands stroking your hair. 

“How does this feel, baby?”

He started to ask more, his voice rough as he checked in, but you couldn’t help but laugh. He started to slow, but you clawed at him. 

“So good,” you grinned, fighting to hold in another giggle. “You feel so good, sweetie pie.”

Law’s face, heavy with a mix of heat and concern jerked a bit, his eyes narrowing on you as his lips twitched. 

“What’s that now,” he dared, shoving into you just a bit faster while you choked on gasping laughs.

“You’re supposed to be,” you paused, overwhelmed by the feel of him, “so scary. But you’re just a sweetie–”

He shut you up with his tongue down your throat, his fingers fisting into your hair, but not hard enough. Breaking off the kiss, he flashed you that wicked smile, meeting your challenge to prove you wrong.

Your frenzied screams filled the room, but his blown out eyes never left your face, watching your every movement. Still so sweet while he hammered his cock into you. Emotion started to hit, and you didn’t want him to notice and stop. It just felt like a dream, being here with him. Any moment you would wake up to silk sheets, and invisible strings. 

Gratitude flooded you, even as your body hit a plateau. 

“I need you,” you begged, watching him start to lose that control he clings to. “Law, need to feel you come, plea–”

His thumb carved with the letter, “D,” found your clit, and you clenched your muscles while you screamed for him. You thrashed, letting your legs shake around his hips, and his thrusts stuttered, still so hard and deep as he moaned your name. 

He kissed you while he came, and you melted, your body swallowing him in. You wanted him to fill you forever, the hot spill of his pleasure more precious than anything you’d ever held. 

Your bodies stayed entwined, breathing into each other as you fought the pressure in your eyes. It felt like ages, yet still not long enough, when he threatened to pull away, leaving a beautiful whisper against your cheek before he moved.

“I missed you, Y/N.”

“Missed you too, sweetie pie,” you teased. You let your body drift into the air, a cloud of delicate water floating above the bed. Ethereal giggles left your form when Law grunted, the lower half of his body falling to the mattress without yours to rest inside. 

“Oh, I’m gonna get you for that,” he growled, rolling onto his back to look up at your hovering mist. 

“Not if I get you first,” you threatened with a kiss. You’d gone solid, straddling him, and giggling into his mouth when he dug fingers into your thighs. His low, dangerous chuckle made you shiver, gasping when he touched your face, rubbing his thumb across your lips. 

“You already got me,” Law teased, his eyes still dark as they poured over you. “Now it’s my turn to make you come.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I felt bad for all the smutty stop and go's, but I hope you don't mind. Trauma takes time, and healing isn't a linear path, but that doesn't mean that pleasure is out of the question. Patience, and a caring partner can make all the difference. I hope that none of you relate, but if you do, you're not alone. 🖤

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 5

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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[guiltyasdave]

sun is going down

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, blood, guns, i think that’s it?

a/n: i’m ridiculously nervous about sharing this story, it has been on my mind for over a year and i’ve been too intimidated to start working on it for the longest time. i really hope that someone likes it haha

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The alarm goes off in the middle of the night. You shoot up, your body on high alert, your heart beating rapidly, before your mind is even fully awake.

Probably just a false one, you try telling yourself as you make your way to the office. You’ve never had a false alarm, but– one can hope, right?

The place is plunged into darkness, no windows for any moonlight to seep through. You turn on the camera feed, squinting at the grainy screen. There’s movement in the living room, two people, from what you can make out. Not infected, judging from the way they’re moving, but one of them seems to be injured. Please don’t be raiders. There isn’t much to loot in the house, but the anxiety is already settling in your chest, threatening to crawl up your throat.

You turn on the sound and a panicked girl’s voice rings through the room as if you were standing right next to her.

“Fuck, Joel, wake up. Joel, please–”

It’s eerily similar to words that you’ve said once, the memory still fresh, even now. You wonder if your voice was as thick with tears then as that girl’s is right now.

Not again. Not in this house, not while you’re watching, unable to do anything. Not again.

You still hear it, the echo in your mind clear as ever. Keep them safe. Promise me. The promise you failed to keep.

Unblinking, you stare at the screen, your mind running a mile a minute. This could be a trap. They could have been watching, could have somehow figured you out. Or, the tiny voice in the back of your head insists, or they really need help.

The girl is pleading for the man to hold on, to not fall asleep. The desperation in her tone is tearing at you, urging you into action. Fuck it, you have to do something.

You grab your gun from the wall and slowly make your way up the stairs, ignoring the anxious trembling in your hands. Maybe this is how you die.

Leaning your back against the wall, you take a deep breath, a fruitless attempt to calm yourself, and switch on the lamp outside. You can’t hear them anymore, but knowing that the living room is now bathed in light, you’re certain that they’re on high alert now. Shit shit shit. You steel yourself, undo the complicated lock and push the heavy door open.

Please don’t let it be a trap.

They’re both staring at you, a young girl standing in front of a man, lying on the ground, taking panting breaths. She’s pointing a gun straight at you, as if she’s trying to shield his larger body with hers. The weapon looks much too big in her hands.

The memory of a similar image tugs at the back of your mind, but you shove it away. Stay in the present, stay right here.

You clear your throat, raising your hands slightly. You don’t remember the last time you spoke to another living person. Your voice cracks.

“I– I don’t mean you any harm. I live here, I saw you on– on the cameras.”

The girl furrows her brow, her eyes flitting across the room.

“They’re hidden, you won’t– Listen, I just want to help, I promise.”

The sound of your voice wavers, almost unfamiliar to your own ears. The girl lowers her gun a fraction, but the distrust is written all over her face. You can’t blame her. You clear your throat again, willing your hands to stop shaking.

“Your dad, is he– has he been bitten?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.

She shakes her head quickly. An expression that you can’t place flies over her features. Thank god.

“He’s not my– no. He got– he got stabbed.”

You can tell that she tries to sound strong, brave, but you recognize the panic in her eyes. You see it often enough when you look into the mirror.

You take another steadying breath. You can do this.

“Okay. I can help with that, if– if you want. I have medicine, bandages…”

Hope flashes over her face, mixed with the obvious conflict of not trusting you.

“You can come downstairs, it’s safer there. I– I should turn the lights back off.”

You’re painfully aware of how bright the house must shine through the darkness, from how far away it’s probably visible right now. Your nerves are fluttering anxiously.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, I swear. Just– let me help you.”

She swallows, hard, and fixes you with a stare.

“It’s just you down there?”

You nod in silent confirmation, not trusting your voice on this. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to admit it to anyone but yourself.

The girl sighs, her head turning between you and the man behind her a few times, surely seeking guidance from him, but his eyes are halfway shut, his lips trembling. Your gaze falls on the dark red stain on his shirt.

Don’t look, don’t think- Just focus on this, right now, right here.

You tell her your name, promise again that it’s safe. Finally, she nods timidly.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You nod back at her, give her a small smile that she doesn’t return. “I’ll come closer now, we’ll carry him, alright?”

The girl looks at the man again. Her body tenses when you near them, but together you manage to get him back on his feet and half walk, half carry him. You push the door open wider and heave him down the stairs.

In the back of your mind, you take note of the sound of multiple feet walking down the steps, and how long it’s been since… No. Stay in the present.

You prop him up on the couch, where the girl keeps hovering by his side while you rush up again to close and lock the door and turn off the lights. Next, you throw open the bathroom cabinet, gathering all the material that you might need.

You return and crouch down beside him, lying your things out on the table, and take a closer look, your fingers halting over him. He’s watching you through lidded eyes, a sheen of sweat on his pale face.

“What’s his name?” you ask, looking up at the girl.

“Joel,” she answers reluctantly. “I’m Ellie.”

“Hi, Ellie.” You hope your smile looks sincere, not betraying how nervous you are right now. How shaky the sight of his blood-soaked shirt makes you feel.

“Okay, Joel?” you address him directly. He only manages a tired hum in return. “I’m gonna clean this and try stitching you up. It’s gonna hurt, I have painkillers, if you–”

But he shakes his head, humming again.

“Alright,” you sigh, and get to work.

You explain what you’re doing with every step, to calm both their and your own nerves. You know how to do this, you’ve trained for this. The wound doesn’t look too deep and you pray that there’s no organ damage involved, because you don’t have the means to treat that properly, but it doesn’t look like it. There seems to be an infection spreading though, so you gather some antibiotics as well, hoping that they’ll still work the way they’re supposed to. Joel inhales sharply a few times, but seems to be out of it for most of the time, which you’re grateful for.

“How did this happen?” you ask, looking up at Ellie who’s still standing beside you, watching intently over what you’re doing.

“Raiders,” she mutters. “It was a broken baseball bat, I think.”

“Jesus,” you sigh. You wonder how they got out, your thoughts circling back to the gun in her hands, and you suppress a shudder. “Are you injured too?” you ask, deciding not to press her about the attack.

“No,” comes her quiet answer. You don’t catch the way she averts her eyes.

“Alright,” mumble eventually and straighten up. You’ve cleaned and bandaged the wound to the best of your ability and now you just have to hope that it will be enough.

“Do you want something to eat?” you ask the girl, who has taken to sit beside the couch on the ground, now that you’ve moved away from it. Her face lights up at the question and she nods eagerly.

You get two bowls of the soup that you’ve had for dinner for the both of you and she has already had a few spoonfuls before she eyes you warily.

“It’s not poisoned or something, is it?”

You huff a laugh and keep eating yours, holding her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Does it look like it?”

“Um, no…” she trails off, swallowing another spoonful and sighing at the taste. You wonder how long it’s been since they ate something. “You could have poisoned only mine though.”

“Well I didn’t,” you grin. It feels foreign, talking to another person, another child, but a warmth is slowly spreading through you that has nothing to do with the soup.

She wakes Joel and gets him to swallow a little soup as well as some water before he collapses back on the couch, his eyes closed and his breath evening out.

“Why do you… have all this?” she asks eventually, setting her bowl down on the table and looking around the room, the wood-covered walls and the multiple doors.

“My dad built it,” you reply, forcing your voice to stay neutral. “B–before.”

She hums in acknowledgement, her eyes still full of wonder.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you hear yourself say, “until he gets better, I mean.”

You don’t know if you’re being reckless, if this will be the thing that finally gets you killed, but it seems too elaborate to be a trap. And maybe, just maybe you like the idea of not being alone down here, even just for a short while, a little too much. She thanks you, her expression just as weary as you feel.

You offer that she can wash up if she wants, use the shower, that you could give her some clothes of yours. You’re still not sure if you’re doing the right thing, or if you’re just being incredibly stupid, but the sight of her worn down shirt and the way her hair is matted down with dirt makes your heart swell with the wish to care for her.

Her eyes flicker nervously between Joel and the bathroom door a few times, but eventually she agrees. While the shower runs, you settle down on the armchair across from the couch, sinking into the cushions, your knees pulled up to your chin, your eyes resting on the sleeping man. He’s huge, taking up the whole length of it, his feet dangling over the armrest, overwhelming even in his unconscious state.

You really hope that they’re good people. He could overpower you easily, there’s no doubt of that. You might not be a terrible fighter, but you don’t think that you’d be a match for him.

Your gaze lingers on his face, the strong shape of his nose, the pout of his lower lip, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. His fingers are twitching, one wrist adorned with a broken watch.

Ellie exits the bathroom again, clad in your old clothes, her damp hair dripping into the neckline of the t-shirt, like a younger version of you. It makes your heart ache.

Now that the adrenaline is rushing from your body, you realize how weird all this really is. You haven’t spoken to anybody in years and now there’s two people here, in your space. Maybe you’ve finally lost it for good.

You show her to the biggest of the four bedrooms, the only one that no one has ever slept in. It’s easier, opening this door, than the two other ones that you keep shut. You debate moving Joel from the couch to the bed, Ellie mumbling about his back, but ultimately you decide against it.

“Okay,” you hesitate, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m in the room right next to you, if you need anything… Just– please don’t murder me in my sleep, okay?”

She mirrors your wry smile. “I won’t if you won’t.”

You nod and leave the room, praying that you’re making the right call here. You’re doing something good, right? And no one would plan an ambush like this. Would they?

You heave a sigh and retreat to your own bedroom, your gun clutched tightly in your grasp. You doubt that it would save you, not against that man who’s currently softly snoring on your couch. Still, it makes you feel a little better. You turn the lock on your door too, just in case.

When you sink back under the covers, eyes still wide open and staring into the darkness, a small smile creeps onto your lips despite your worries.

It’s not the way it was, it will never be that way again. But not being the only soul down here fills you with the ghost of a warmth that you had thought you’d never feel again.

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