#it's something that i seem to really know well for some reason. that feeling of longing and yearning

[pix-writes]

Ok this is really important because Stan is like Ford in his need for praise/affection but, I do want to give Stan some slack when it comes to Bill! because I think he'd be very wary of bill cipher first and foremost because of how he presents himself to people, there's always something a little off and jaunty in his appearance and behaviour, regardless of what he says and I think Stan is himself enough of a con man and been screwed over in the past by other crooks in the past to know one. Ford passes over a lot of the off putting and unhinged shit bill pulls and makes excuses for it, because he wants what bill's offering, in fact he's blindsided by wanting the knowledge he has to offer and I think Stan would not take long to suspect what bill says is too good to be true! I think bill being the manipulator he is would also need to present himself very differently to Stan in order to ever entice him, and even if he did if Ford was in the picture when it happened he'd quickly catch on that their experiences of bill are different and that's fishy. Stan also has a lot of control and awareness over his mind/dreamscape as we see in S1 ep 19 telling dipper how to help save soos & his sister, bill primarily manipulates people through dreams and so he'd be hard pressed with Stan to get anywhere without the man becoming paranoid - I'm so happy that Alex even confirmed my theory on this recently!

Does that mean that Stan is immune to being manipulated or blindsided by others? Absolutely not. As we can see in Roadside Attraction, a pretty woman complimenting him and seeming to fall for his cheesy lines seems to be extremely easy, in fact! 😄🤭 (sorry stan)

Stan has also been screwed over by others a lot in the past, including in past relationships where tbh he really should've seen it coming. That said Bill cipher is a different kettle of fish altogether and I think the reason he deliberately seemed to never want Ford to reconnect with Stan or to make a deal with Stan himself is for these very reasons, plus he wanted Ford the one who he deems more intelligent and more morally flexible and he was sort of filling the gap that stan had left in Ford's life, in a way, even talking somewhat like him, being familiar to Ford helped to manipulate him better so Stan being in the picture would ruin his chances, I think. Afterwards Bill didn't seem to want to make a deal with Stan because he was obsessed with Ford but also because he didn't see a possibility of it going well so he treated/treats Stan as I unimportant, dumb and insignificant because that's what he does with people he feels he cannot control!

I love the idea that Bill’s manipulation tactics are horribly obvious but Ford is so socially inept that it works on him perfectly

“He was a masterful manipulator.”

No bestie he was just nice to you and you folded like a house of cards

[myownwholewildworld]

12. MORNING DEW

chapter 11 | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 13 (soon)

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: you and joel need to discuss what the future might look like for the both of you. whether that's together or on your own. a/n: HI! please accept my apologies, i know it's been like a month since i last updated this series. but fret not, here's chapter 12! hope you guys like it. as always, i appreciate comments, reblogs and likes, they keep us writers well fed and motivated! take care, lovelies <3 x warnings: 18+, mdni. fluff, some angsty hurt/comfort. smut because i got my period halfway through writing this. fingering. handjob. oral (m!receiving). edging. soft dom/sub dynamics. brief references to attempted suicide and attempted SA. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov. and a special guest’s pov too 👀 dividers by @\saradika-graphics w/c: ~6.5k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

It never seemed to be the proper time to speak to you, Joel thought. Ever since his fuckup last night, he had struggled to find the words, to explain what his thought process was. A few hours ago, he had talked himself into ripping off the plaster and apologise to you, but when he called your name and you turned around with a composed expression, he froze in place.

He didn’t want to lose you too. Joel was afraid he would say something wrong again that would push you even further away from him. And then he would truly be alone, all because of his own actions, his own words. That fear clamped around his throat, preventing him from saying anything. From reaching out.

It was stupid, really. He knew that. Knew you were expecting him to say something, anything. Your blank expression was just a façade, a wall you had built around your heart so he wouldn’t hurt you anymore.

Joel hated himself for it, for your concealed hurt. Hated he had broken that trust between you two and made you feel like he was no longer on your side. He was, always had been, always would be. But he had let fear come between you, an abyss so vast he didn’t think it was salvable. It had to be though ― couldn’t be any other way.

The possibility of being a father again laid in front of him like a path full of dangers. Joel understood how much he could lose, because he had already lost Sarah. How suffocating that experience had been ― still was, every single fucking day.

He was frightened to go through it all over again. Having to hug another dead child of his; having to witness the light flicker away from her eyes. Sarah had been his everything ― his hope, his pride, the love of his life, the reason he would wake up in the morning to go to work, counting his blessings. And it didn’t matter in the slightest how good she was ― she was taken regardless. This world was cruel and unjust and greedy.

But there was also a sliver of hope, of dull excitement, shimmering underneath. One he wouldn’t allow himself to feel.

He still felt like a failure of a father who could not protect his baby girl when she needed him most. That emotional baggage would forever be with him. And he wanted it that way, because it meant he still remembered. This grief he carried was a reminder of the love he held. And he hoped it stayed with him, that she would stay with him.

Joel could still vividly remember digging with bare nails the grave Tommy had prepared for her. Elbow’s deep in the dirt, his fingers reaching for her as thick tears blurred his vision. The wails ripping his lungs apart, leaving his throat raw and tender. And Tommy hugging him from the back, arms clamped around his shoulders ― crying, begging him to stop.

“Little Sarah is resting now.”

“Let her be, Joel.”

“Stop unburying her, dammit!”

“I’m sorry, truly sorry. God I can’t―”

“She’s at peace now, Joel. No more suffering.”

Tommy’s slurry voice still filled his ears. His little brother had tried his best to comfort him, but at that moment in time, Joel had been too blinded by the gut-wrenching pain, the unbearable loss. He never really thanked Tommy for that. Never thanked you for stopping him from killing himself either.

Being an ass to the people he loved, apparently, was his only strength. Just like he had been with you when you needed him most.

Joel watched you as you struggled to unzip your sleeping bag, the soft material catching on the serrated teeth. You yanked the pull, almost snapping it from the slider, mumbling something to yourself.

He covered your tiny hand with a broad one of his, lightly squeezing your fingers.

“Let me help,” he muttered as you leaned back away from him.

Your subtle physical rejection stung, but he knew he deserved it. His hurt was nothing in comparison to yours.

Letting go of the bag, you faked looking for something in your backpack, avoiding his eyes when they searched for yours. Joel felt that the void between you only grew and grew, like darkness gaining ground to the light outside.

Could he mend your relationship? Your trust? Your love?

With careful hands, Joel managed to release the pinch on the fabric and tested that the zipper worked how it should do. When he glanced up at you, handing over the sleeping bag, Joel caught the rawness in your eyes, the slight dampness clinging to your eyelashes like morning dew on a petal at dawn.

It was now or never. He was hurting from seeing you hurt. Couldn’t take it any longer, he just had to say something, apologise to you. Ask to start the conversation all over again. One more second of this and he would lose his goddamn mind.

“Sweetheart, I―,” he managed to say out loud.

“I’m tired, Joel,” you quickly interrupted him. “Just wanna go to bed now, if you don’t mind.”

Your words were like a sobering, cold shower after a few beers ― stopped him right in his tracks before he could even begin to express what he wanted to say. Slightly shocked, Joel watched you fiddling around with your sleeping bag before you got inside it and turned around, facing away from him.

His slack jaw was soon gritting. But that brief anger quickly shimmered away when reality started to set in.

Perhaps he had misread the whole situation; perhaps you were not waiting on him to talk.

Perhaps you were past that ― past him, his bullshit and his doubts.

Perhaps your relationship was truly beyond salvation.

He paled in the face of such possibility, his hands shaking as they gripped his own sleeping bag.

Joel was up almost all night, eyes transfixed on you as his brain worked out all scenarios.

You faked falling asleep, but rest evaded you for hours until you finally gave in to exhaustion. Didn’t last long though, because a couple of hours later, you were, once again, wide awake.

The whole situation with Joel was overwhelming. You had hoped he would come to the car as soon as you left him behind, but he didn’t. Then that night you waited for him to say something, anything, and yet again, he didn’t. Not a fucking word when you both woke up this morning either, except for your name falling from his lips like a regretted whisper. Then complete radio silence and nothing else.

The silence treatment he had given you today was unbearable. Even if your doubts had lingered, pushing you to postpone the inevitable, deep inside you had hoped his reaction would be different. Shocked, yes, but then he would be… perhaps not happy, but at least a bit more excited? And after the shock had worn off, he would have soothed you, calmed you, told you everything was gonna be alright.

Maybe you had expected too much of Joel, your little delusion blinding you. After all, he had already lost Sarah. So now, in retrospect, this announcement might have unearthed bad memories, but especially regrets.

Was that it? Had you unburied his most primal fear? You had been so focused on what laid ahead, you had not stopped to consider what laid behind ― what this would mean for Joel. You had briefly contemplated he could perhaps see this as a blessing or a curse, but didn’t dwell too long on the thought, preoccupied as you were with other pressing matters.

You felt sick and it had nothing to do with pregnancy.

And then, when he had tried talking to you before going to bed, you had shut him down. But you were so tired, so mentally drained, you didn’t have an ounce of energy left to deal with a conversation like that. Because you truly didn’t know what he would say ― he wore such an impassive expression on his face, it was really difficult to tell.

You turned on the hard, creaky, wooden floor and faced Joel. One of his arms was resting on the wooden planks, extended towards you, as if he was trying to reach for you in his sleep.

You were in an abandoned cabin just outside Oswego. It was bare and completely stripped of furniture, but at least had a roof that would protect you from the cold, wet weather outside. It also had a covered chimney, but being so close to civilisation, it had to stay put out. Sleeping in the bag was not ideal, but it kept you warm.

Taking a deep breath, you then felt some sort of cushion under your neck that had not been there before you fell asleep. By touch, you realised it was one of those inflatable travel neck pillows that you had seen people use in airplanes. Frowning, you gathered Joel must have found one and tucked it under your head in your sleep.

You carefully studied Joel’s handsome, weathered face from the safety of your sleeping bag. Even in his sleep, his eyebrows were bunched together, a deep wrinkle ploughing through his skin almost permanently, giving him a worried look. His aquiline nose was buried in the fabric of his sleepsack, his long eyelashes caressing the top of his cheeks.

He would roll his eyes at you every time you called him “gorgeous” or “handsome”, but he really was. You loved to tell him, to help him see through your eyes. You knew he sometimes needed to hear it, to remind him of his own humanity. It was normal to lose sight of it in the current world you lived in.

And you loved him, the whole of him and his ghosts, even though he was a tactless prick sometimes. You had come to learn that when cornered, Joel could react like a beaten dog ― crouched back and showing teeth, ready to bite at the slightest provocation. Couldn’t blame him, even if you tried.

Feeling restless, you carefully unzipped your sleeping bag, not wanting to wake Joel up, and put your boots on. God knew you both needed some rest. Silently you stood up and stretched your back and arms, then one hand mindlessly stroked your belly. It wasn’t swollen at all, but the idea of a life growing inside you sat snugly in the back of your mind.

“What are we going to do, little one?” you whispered to yourself before grabbing your coat.

Needing some fresh air, you walked outside in the middle of the freezing night. It had been snowing, because there were at least three inches of white fluff blanketing the ground. Which meant the car battery could quickly drain and leave you stranded, so you went to check on the hidden Jeep.

Joel’s body jerked uncontrollably, one leg shaking as if he was falling off a cliff. Instantly waking up, he nervously looked around him, trying to recall where he was.

His hand patted the wooden floor in the dark, and when he located your sleeping bag, his breathing hitched at finding it empty. Then he heard the front door creaking, a sliver of moonlight coming through.

Were you leaving him in the middle of the night? Had he completely broken your trust, your relationship? Had he no chance of mending his mistake? Were you so hurt you would go without a word, without saying goodbye?

God knew he deserved it. He wasn’t cut for a relationship; he always ruined it. Should have known better than falling for you and giving in, but you were so warm, so effortless to love, so natural… How the fuck could he not? He was only human after all.

With a deafening pulse in his eardrums, he kicked the sleeping bag off as he got up with jerky, edgy motions, running towards the door to stop you from leaving him. For you he would fight, he would give you a whole motherfucking speech of why he loved you and how sorry he was. He at least had to try.

Joel swung the door open, and a frosty breeze greeted him, his skin bristled almost painfully at the feeling of frostbite.

You were walking through the snow, wrapped in your coat and with the hood on ― you looked so ethereal, your side profile bathed by the moonlight like a night fairy. Your features glowed under the lunar lustre, and he couldn’t help but fall for you even more.

Barefoot he followed you, his soles numb after a few steps through the snowy mud.

“Babe, wait,” he muttered, one hand reaching for your elbow.

You startled at his touch, and Joel didn’t know if it was rejection or that he had surprised you.

Your big, beautiful eyes widened when you saw him there. You wore a tired expression, and he knew himself the culprit.

“Where are you going?” he questioned in a whisper, heart still and lungs empty.

“I―”

“Please don’t go, don’t leave. I can do better. I’m sorry,” Joel stumbled with his words.

Had never felt this exposed as he was about to split his core in half, to undress emotionally in front of someone, allowing himself to be hurt by the only person it mattered.

But it had to be done to keep you by his side. So he did.

“I panicked. I wasn’t expecting― it didn’t even cross my mind that you… well, could be pregnant. It caught me so off guard, the news didn’t sink in. I’m sorry I reacted like a fucking idiot; I know I’ve disappointed you because of it. It’s just… ‘s hard, you know?” Joel swallowed to dissolve the dense knot forming in his throat, “I already had a shot at fatherhood, and I fucking blew it. I couldn’t protect her despite loving Sarah with all my heart, so the possibility of having to go through all that heartache again… I just, I don’t―”

Joel took in a deep, trembling breath as he unconsciously palmed his broken wristwatch, trying to soothe himself. He attempted to read your expression ― your lips pursed and eyes teary. Was he breaking your heart even further? You were about to cry, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Anxiety was taking hold of his throat and gut, strangling him.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m fucking scared, so scared I don’t think words do it justice. But I’m also thrilled, baby, I swear I am. I owe it to you, to myself, to this baby of ours… I ain’t going nowhere. Wherever you go, I’ll follow you both,” he husked, almost breathless. “I’m sorry I said what I said. Neither of us have a choice, but even if we did… I wouldn’t change a thing. This baby is happening for a reason and whatever that is, I’m all in, come what may. I love you, I really do, and I hate myself for having hurt you like this. I just suck at expressing my feelings and―”

You placed a gentle hand on his naked forearm, which made him lose track of what he was saying. Your fingers gently squeezed his cold flesh as you took a step closer to him. Your free hand slid across his left hip, dipping under the tee shirt he was wearing, until it reached the small of his back and you pushed him towards your body.

His taut muscles visibly relaxed at your touch and hug, his lungs filling up as he drew in the deepest breath of his life. Wrapping his arms around you, he held you close to his chest, chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Joel, I wasn’t leaving,” you murmured, cheek nuzzling against him, a tentative smile lingering on your mouth.

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together. From his perspective, it was more than obvious that you were actually leaving.

“Oh? I thought―”

“I was just going to check on the car battery since it’s freezing out here,” you interrupted him, glancing up at him.

Joel pursed his lips together, then licked them nervously.

“Well, everything I said still stands. I am truly sorry, sweetheart,” he said, mouth lightly pressed on your forehead.

A deep sigh after, you took a step back, your hand travelling from his forearm to his fingers, intertwining them with yours. Your palm was so warm in comparison to his, he just realised how little clothing he had on.

“For being a man who “sucks” at expressing his feelings, dare I say you’ve just spoken like a professional orator?” you jested, a grin curling the corners of your lips. “And I am sorry for not being straightforward with you. I was afraid of how you would take the news, and, well…” you shrugged, “you can’t blame me, can you?”

Joel shook his head vehemently. He definitely couldn’t ― the proof was there for both of you to see.

“But I understand how frightening this is for you. I can’t even begin to comprehend how you must have felt when… when Sarah left us. I was so blinded by my own insecurities, I didn’t dwell for too long on how this would affect you emotionally. So I apologise and―”

“Don’t. Don’t apologise, please. That’s a pain for me to bear, you shouldn’t have to think about it.”

“But I do, Joel. I want to bear it with you, so you don’t have to do it alone. That’s the whole point of this, of us. After all, we are going to be a family now,” your voice dropped to a low hum.

A pang of nerves traversed his stomach. No, not a pang, more like… butterflies? Joel had not felt that―the purest form of ecstasy―in a long, long time. The idea of being a dad… it always called him, always felt like that was what he was meant to be, nothing else. Sarah had been the center of his world and while no one could ever change that for him, the possibility of having another child to shower with the love he had buried… it was so overwhelming it brought tears to his eyes, his breathing shallow.

“A family,” he repeated, voice raspy with emotion.

You nodded and laughed, teary eyes too.

“A family, Joel. You’re gonna be a dad,” you snickered, now sobbing.

He couldn’t help but join you, draping his arms around you to bring you against his chest.

He didn’t deserve you, your forgiveness. The second chance you were offering him, in all the senses. A second chance with you. A second chance to form a family. A second chance in life, really.

Joel cradled your flushed cheeks, tilting your face up so his mouth hovered over yours.

“I can’t believe my fucking luck, honestly. You, the mother of my child…” he didn’t finish the sentence because he would choke on his own words if so. Took a second to compose himself. “If I’m ever such a dick aga―”

“Are you planning on being a dick often, Joel Miller?” you said playfully with a cocked brow.

He laughed, feeling completely at ease.

“I hope not. But if I ever attempt to be, just kick me in the balls so I may come to my senses quicker, please,” he replied with a lopsided grin.

His thumbs caressed the apples of your cheeks before bowing down to kiss you. A slow, loving stroke of his tongue over yours and he felt everything was right again. Your sweet taste soothed him, his mind finally at ease. How you achieved that for him with the mere brush of your soft lips, he didn’t understand.

You were the one to break the kiss, pecking his lips a few times before finally taking a step back.

“Let’s go back inside, you must be freezing only with those sweatpants and a shirt.”

And with that, all the anxiety, the mental struggle, was forgotten.

Joel took your tiny hand in his broad one and led you back inside the cabin. Dried off his feet quickly before helping you out of your winterwear and settle back in in the sleeping bag ― his sleeping bag. Luckily it was big enough for the both of you.

You hugged each other, trying to get back to sleep, but both of your hearts were fluttering so hard, it was difficult to ignore the excitement.

“I’m so thrilled right now, I don’t think I can go to sleep just yet. I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered with a beautiful grin.

Joel couldn’t help but notice how you were beaming now, how much worry you had carried the last couple of days because of him. He felt infinitely better now that the joyful spark had returned to your eyes.

Dragging his thumb across your jawline, tracing an invisible line on your soft skin, Joel tilted your face towards him, his heart swollen with love. He hadn’t felt this alive in ages.

“Neither can I,” he admitted in a rasp.

His right hand roamed your body under the sleeping bag until it found the perfect spot to rest: your belly. Joel splayed his fingers over your lower tummy protectively, wanting to shield you both from any harm.

You hovered one of your hands over his, your palm stroking the back of his hand in a light caress. It felt like such an intimate moment, a respite among all madness and darkness, that he knew he would treasure it forever. When days would become hard, he’d only have to think back to this exact moment in time ― both of you cocooned in a sleeping back, warm and loving, calm and happy.

Fuck, was he happy and grateful. It still felt like a dream, but this was real. You were real. Yes, he was fucking scared out of his mind too, but the joy he was feeling right now eclipsed everything else.

With rough lips, he coaxed yours apart, the tip of his tongue tentatively swiping your teeth so you would let him in ― the place where he felt most at home. And you happily complied with a subtle sigh. Your tongues curled around one another, your sultry taste and sweet scent overtaking all his senses.

Joel felt your hand dragging his downwards and only took him one second to catch on. Soon his fingers were buried under your panties, his hand cupping your mound possessively while his middle finger dipped in your slit ever so slightly to faintly stroke your hooded clit.

Just one stroke.

“Joel,” you cooed, and he inhaled your breathless plea.

“I know, baby,” he hummed back, gifting you with another light stroke.

Your thighs trembled around his hand, and you parted them involuntarily, your body telling him everything he needed to know.

So he obliged, his finger slipping from your clit to your crying hole, gathering the wetness on the tip to bring it back up to your sensitive nub. With languid touches, Joel paid precise attention to your bundle of nerves with his thumb, while his index and middle fingers rubbed your dripping furrow incessantly, his fingertips hitching in your entrance from time to time.

You gasped, chest heaving and back arched, when Joel finally dived those two fingers in your slick, warm entrance. He groaned at your responsiveness, your eagerness, always ready for him. He could never have enough of you; of that he was fucking sure.

Joel nipped your neck, his stubble tickling your skin, then lapped at it while the rhythm of his hand increased. He knew you loved it when he curled his fingers, stroking that heavenly spot that would drive you wild with lust.

Then he suddenly stilled and you grinded your wet pussy against his palm, desperate for release, your hips tilting underneath.

“Joel, please,” you begged in a whisper, your walls clenching around his digits.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“I wanna come, please let me,” you pleaded with half-lidded, glassy eyes, melting under his touch.

“What a good girl, asking for permission,” he grazed your slack jaw with his bare teeth, then soothed the bite with a kiss. “No, not a good girl, a good momma, aren’t ya?” he corrected himself, his erection swelling at the thought. “Not yet, baby.”

He teased you a bit more, dragging the pleasure, letting it build and coil inside you the way he knew you liked it.

“F-fuck… Joel…” you moaned, his fingers still and deep buried inside you, your hole squeezing uncontrollably.

Your pleas worked, because soon enough Joel was fingering you relentlessly, pumping in and out of you fast ― your gushing cunt making obscene, squelching noises under the sleeping bag. Your moans grew louder as the pace between your thighs increased, your back so arched Joel feared you might break it.

“You can come now, baby,” he spoke softly, knowing you were holding back until you got his permission.

Then your walls furiously fluttered around his digits, choking and clamping and clutching. And Joel fucked you with his fingers through your orgasm, his thumb smothering your clit, applying the right amount of pressure. You keened, breathing heavy, as you came down from your climax, eyes shut and mouth agape.

Joel leaned to kiss you, his wet, pruney fingers still embedded in your leaking hole while your hand teasingly caressed his tummy, his muscles straining in anticipation.

“Feeling calmer?” he asked, the tip of his crooked nose nuzzling your ear as his fingers slid out with a pop.

“Mhmm, way calmer now,” you husked, tipping your face to trap his mouth with yours. “Let me help you relax too, gorgeous.”

A deep rumble coursed through his chest as your tiny fist dove and wrapped around his swollen girth, your thumb gently caressing the leaky head under his underwear.

He was ready just by working you, that was the power you held over him and Joel was fully aware of it. And he didn’t care one bit, he loved that you could get him hard just like that. It was lust, but it was love too; a deep, shared connection ― something he’d not felt before with anyone else.

You pumped him slow at first, your teeth scraping the skin over his Adam’s apple, then his jawline, until you hunted down his lips, swallowing his gruffy moans. Your playful hand stroked him faster, your fingers gripping harder, and he was close to losing his mind.

Then you licked his neck and nibbled his earlobe, and Joel had to summon all strength he could muster to not come there and then. You giggled at his intense reaction ― his muscles so tight he could snap at any moment, his breathing heavier and erratic.

Your hand imposed a devilish pace upon his throbbing cock, jerking him off fast and furious now, seeing how far you could take him before he broke. His balls felt tight and heavy, ready to spill his warm load on your hand.

Joel couldn’t stop groaning even if he fucking tried ― it had only been five days since the last time he fucked you, but those were too many days already. He pursed his lips together, eyebrows knitting in concentration to not come yet, while your mouth ghosted his. A few moans ended up slipping out and you breathed them in as you masturbated him with a tight grip.

And whatever cue he gave you, you knew he was close ― his orgasm imminent. Swiftly you dived your head under the sleeping bag and Joel lost sight of you. You freed his erection and a second later he felt your plump lips seal around his mushroom head.

His hands curled into tight fists, your little licks, taps and laps maddening. Then you suckled the swollen tip as if it was your personal pacifier.

“Holy fuck,” he huffed, shutting his eyes, as your wicked tongue commended him to come, your hand working his shaft dextrously.

Joel couldn’t hold it any longer. With a deep moan, he blew his sticky load in your mouth, and you drank eagerly from him. He felt your plush lips pecking his balls, then his column, and finally the tip, showing gratitude to his softening dick. Tucking his cock back into his underwear, you patted his bulge, gently, for a sweet second.

Then you popped your head out of the sleeping bag with a sinful grin, your thumb swiping across the corner of your mouth to gather a drop of his cum and guiding it back inside. Joel cupped your chin to bring your face closer to his.

“Thanks, baby. Always so thoughtful,” he joked before tasting himself on your tongue.

“Anytime,” you snickered.

You settled across his chest, warm bodies and calmer hearts, and a comfortable silence filled the room. Soon after that, you both fell into a peaceful slumber.

You woke up first, Joel’s arms draped around your shoulders in a solid hug, almost suffocating you. The first morning light filtered through the bare window, casting elongated shadows of the trees outside across the floorboards. Morning dew condensed on the windowpane, frozen like tiny, sparkly snowflakes. Some birds chirped, their melody pacifying. The whole scene was so tranquil, you didn’t want this moment to end.

Loafing about, you nuzzled Joel’s sternum, his thorax slowly rising, then coming down. His heart beat steadily too, so calming it almost lull you back to sleep. Something about Joel sleeping so profoundly made you feel at peace. Both of you had a very much needed rest after a tense couple of days.

You stroked the hairy trail down his belly button absentmindedly.

Joel grunted and stirred under you, his curved eyelashes fluttering a few times before his beautiful brown eyes stared at you. A boyish smile curled the corners of his lips before he closed his eyes again, hugging you closer. Joel buried his nose in your hair, then inhaled audibly.

“As much I’d love to stay here forever with you, I think we should get going,” you laughed, palming his chest.

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. He wasn’t a morning person.

“Alright. I’ll get up just ‘cause you’re asking nicely,” he conceded, one hand reaching out of the sleeping bag to unzip it.

The cold air hit you both and you regretted your decisions, but if you wanted to find Tommy soon, you were not going to achieve that from this cabin, as idyllic as it felt to be here, in your bubble with Joel.

Half an hour later you were both up and fully awake. Joel was packing away the sleeping bags when he suddenly stopped.

“Fuck. You didn’t check on the battery last night, did you?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You bit down your bottom lip and shook your head no.

“Shit. No, I didn’t. I, well― got distracted,” you replied apologetically, a nervous chuckle slipping.

“You mean I distracted you, right?” the teasing edge to his voice made you smile. “Don’t worry, love, ‘s alright. I’ll go check on it before we go into town.”

Joel brought you in for a hug, his hands lacing on the small of your back. He brushed his lips against yours in a chaste kiss and you wanted to laugh so badly, you sniggered. This man, pretending to be so decent now.

“What’s so funny?” he enquired, a cocked brow, not letting you go of his embrace just yet.

“You being so gentlemanly and proper now with your decorous kissing, as if you didn’t make me come with just your fingers last night. As if I didn’t eat yo―” you jested bluntly, butterflies filling your belly.

Joel growled at your provocation, interrupting you, his hips flush with yours.

“That nasty mouth of yours is gonna be my downfall one of these days,” he muttered. Then he kissed you, his tongue quick and ravishing. “Enough. Stop being so damn tempting.”

He let go of you, taking a step back and turning around. You took the opportunity to smack his ass before he walked off with a smirk on his lips.

You stayed inside, gathering all the bits and stuffing them back in your backpacks. You were going to venture into Oswego today again, stake out the town and the area where Joel thought Tommy and his group would most probably be.

Shuffling through your belongings, you found the pregnancy test you took a few days ago. The digital screen was still displaying the positive result ― one you dreaded, but then embraced.

In the span of forty-eight hours, you thought your relationship with Joel had crumbled down and reduced to nothingness, to then come back stronger like a phoenix rising from its ashes.

The look on his face when he thought you were leaving him still haunted you ― you hoped he would forget that feeling sooner rather than later. His confession had tugged at your heart so much, you had forgiven him after the first sentence. But you had let him keep on talking, because the self-indulgent part of yourself wanted to hear him say all those things. It wasn’t often that Joel Miller would make use of his mouth to verbally express his feelings.

You smiled to yourself, tremendously happy with how the situation had turned out in the end.

Throwing your backpack over your shoulders and Joel’s hanging from one arm, you walked outside with the pregnancy still on your hand, daydreaming ― your grin now permanently sculpted into your features.

Then you heard a voice you quickly recognised.

Tommy’s.

You froze halfway through the three steps on the porch, your gaze scanning the area until you found them.

Joel had a very schooled expression, almost blank, while Tommy frowned, gripping a shotgun close to his chest.

“You’ve been following me?” the younger Miller asked, visibly upset.

“Yes, we have, you dickhead,” Joel replied, his voice restrained. “You just left a―”

“We?” Tommy scoffed, taking a step back. “You’ve not ditched her body yet?”

Joel’s hazel eyes found yours, still glued to the steps. A silent plea for you to go back inside, sensing this would not end well. And you tried ― you took a step back to run back into the cabin, but Tommy was quicker.

Tommy turned around and almost jumped back as if he had seen a ghost. Probably because he thought he had.

You raised your hands up, showing him you were no threat.

“Hey, Tommy,” you greeted him with a feeble smile. “If you keep pointing that gun at me, I’m gonna start thinking it’s personal,” you joked to diffuse the situation.

“Tommy,” Joel’s firm voice made his brother looked at him askance, his pupils fixed right back on you. “Hey.”

Joel’s fingers wrapped around the barrel, pushing it down so it wouldn’t point at you anymore. You could see Tommy’s stiffness from the distance, ready to do whatever it was necessary.

When Joel yanked at the shotgun, Tommy broke eye contact with you to stare at his brother, not letting go of the shotgun.

“How’s she alive?”

“It’s a long story, bu―”

“She’s fucking infected. You’re fucking infected!” he screamed in a panic, stumbling back with his own feet and then directing the gun back at you.

Joel tried to approach him while you stayed as still as possible, your breathing hitching. Would he shoot? You hoped not, but he looked scared enough to do so.

“Tommy, listen to me―” Joel attempted to talk to him again.

“What’s that you’re holding?” Tommy snapped at you, ignoring his brother.

You paled. You had forgotten the pregnancy test was on your hand, lost as you were in your train of thought when you had walked out of the cabin.

No words left your mouth ― your orbs quickly found Joel’s. Both of you, frightened to death. Not for yourselves, but for your baby.

Tommy wouldn’t hurt you, would he? Unconsciously, your free hand dropped to your belly, wanting to protect this new life you were harbouring, growing.

Tommy’s façade fell, his jaw slack.

“You’re PREGNANT?!”

Joel reacted first, standing in the way, the barrel kissing the center of his chest. Then he pushed Tommy back, his composed expression gone. He was angry, you could tell. Really angry. You had only seen him that irate the night those two men almost raped you.

“If you ever point that gun at her again, I swear to fucking God, I’ll kill you myself with my bare hands, Tommy,” he growled.

Tommy blinked rapidly, his resolution coming back as he cocked the gun again.

“You both have lost your fucking minds,” Tommy scoffed, walking backwards towards the woods. “Don’t follow me anymore. Leave me the fuck alone.”

A minute after, the younger brother disappeared between the trees and Joel rushed to your side, his anger transforming into urgency.

“We gotta go.”

His words were impregnated with the same panic you were feeling.

Unbelievable, Tommy thought.

Had his brother gone mad? What the fuck was he thinking? And how were you alive? What kind of sinister magic was that?

He had so many unanswered questions, his head throbbed with an impending headache. Tommy needed the distance and the time to think this through. At first, he had been elated at seeing his brother after so long, but the excitement quickly shifted the moment he saw Joel accompanied by you. And fucking pregnant, by the looks of it.

Shaking his head, Tommy hooted like an owl, letting the people keeping watch know that he was approaching the two houses they all had been living in. The two buildings were on the forest boundary, far enough of other homes but close enough to town.

Bursting in through the doors, Laney met him in the corridor, hands on hips.

“So?”

“They are here. And what’s worst, she’s alive and pregnant,” Tommy almost spit the last word out.

Laney’s scowl deepened.

“Pregnant? Like, with a fucking zombie-like monster growing inside of her?”

The emphasis on that specific word made Tommy frown. He wouldn’t go as far as to say that. Laney could be a little dramatic sometimes.

“Well, I don’t know. No, I don’t think so? I mean, she looked fine, so I guess―” Laney walked past him, interrupting what he was saying. “Where are you going?”

“On patrol. Need to go into town for some supplies.”

“Need a hand?”

“No. Stay here, keep watch.”

And with that, she stepped out and closed the door behind her, leaving Tommy in the middle of the hallway with a nagging doubt picking at the back of his brain.

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu

@smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille @harriedandharassed

@thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus @theoraekenslover @vickie5446

[xaverie]

So. I love Evan Kelmp. And - imagine that I'm trying to choose my words carefully here.

I've been getting annoyed with him over the last three episodes. Because. I don't like how he tends to impose his beliefs. About what is correct and should happen. On the other characters. And our Black characters, specifically. Which. Was really put on clear display by his interaction with The Qohlye.

Evan seeks to be understood. But I don't think he has.. put in the required effort to reach that same level of understanding with his friends, or in general. Perhaps because they haven't said things in the exact way that he needs to hear them. But he behaves as though he does understand, even though I personally think. That there are things he's missing.

The treehouse conversation. Lots of people seem to get and relate to Evan's side of the convo, which is fantastic! But not as deep an understanding of Jammer's side. Evan decides that the correct thing is for Jammer to come out not hide his magical experiences. He jumps to a few conclusions about the reason - first that maybe Jammer was ashamed, then that he wasn't confident it would go well.

Instead of asking for clarification about what "They need me to be Whitney, you guys need me to be Jammer" means, he had made up his mind. Evan likes that Jammer is magic because that is the way in which Evan feels most connected to Jammer, thus everyone should admire Jammer for his magical abilities the way Evan does. And if Jammer hasn't allowed for that it's some kind of rebuke of Evan, of magic, and of Jammer's own self. Therefore the only correct thing is to merge these identities, but really just be the Jammer that Evan knows.

And I'm not saying Evan is wrong here. But in the same way he's missing the fact that Jammer did try to expose his magic in S2E1, but he couldn't prove it because magic is fucking broken. He's also missing how naturally we, as Black people, fall into code switching. Not just historically as a method of survival, but for practical reasons, privacy reasons, or just to keep our peace. To treat that unilaterally as the same thing as a kind of toxic compartmentalization, or hiding the true self (all of them are true selves), was. Kinda. Sad to me.

Not to take away from Jammer's triumphant success on Galamanis or the freedom represented by growing wings, because this is what he chose and I love that he made those choices. But it also represents potentially giving up fitting into his mundane life and dream career, something he had fought so so hard to keep thus far, and destroying 'Whitney'. This, more than anything before it, might be a fundamental shift in identity.

The same way it made me a little bit sad that Evan had assumed Jammer didn't mean "family" literally, when I immediately recognized that of course he did. There has never been a point in American history where part of being Black and being family hasn't meant - we may have to be apart, but as soon I'm ready (as soon as we're safe), I'm coming back for you, no matter what. It is THE very first promise, the foundational truth, or the only thread of hope that tied so many Black families together through all these generations.

So while everyone recognizes what a sweet moment it was, I also hope people feel the gravity and the history behind "I dream of making that space for you." And the weight of how many people must have said that before him. And what a profound act of love it's always been because sometimes that's all we have.

When Evan tells Sam, "I think you are the most powerful wizard," she instantly replies, "I hope not." Evan's response to this was essentially - who were are is true whether we want it to be or not. Which, to be fair, is both consistent with what he expressed to Jammer and with his own experience. What it leaves out is that our hopes are also who we are. And that maybe the same way he mistook her love toward him for general gregariousness, he is still misunderstanding her a little.

While he deferred to Sam on the matter of whether they should pursue the Qohlye or not, I think it was still Evan's (or Brennan's) idea that not only must all four of them be chosen, but that The Qohlye must be the best choice for Sam.

When the Qohlye says 'I think you're only here because you're convinced you need to be the same as your friends,' is he wrong? When he asks why she needs to be chosen by his magic specifically, she can't answer on her own. When Sam was given the choice between Power and Understanding she immediately chose understanding because of COURSE she did. (She instantly replies, "I hope not." I hope not. My heart breaks.)

And yet. Evan insists that she's given the power anyway. Because that's what fits neatly into what he already believes is correct and should happen. He believes in winning and rewards. He believes she deserves that power and that they need it. So even though I know he does this out of love, he doesn't even consider for a moment that he might be wrong.

Because Sam does get the power, she does thank him, and again not to diminish Sam's accomplishment - once again Evan gets what he wants and is proven right.

Except.

When The Qohlye doesn't give him the answers he wants in the exact form that he demands them. Evan decides that this is a crime for which The Qohlye deserves to die. The Qohlye, who helped return him to life. Who has a strong connection to his friends. (Who chose to be Black, which meant so much to Jammer that he cried.) Who asked each of his friends, in turn, if they thought The Qohlye meant what Evan thought he meant. Who demonstrated that he is not (and cannot be) obfuscating something that is apparently obvious to everyone else.

Evan refuses to accept that yes, The Qohlye can give him information, but cannot understand it for him. And Evan is not ready to Understand because Evan keeps choosing Power. Understanding takes work, even (or especially) when it doesn't come naturally to you. And answers will not always come in a clear and concise way. And this makes him so angry that he wants The Qohlye dead.

While Evan always presents his beliefs and demands as logical and rational, his reaction to The Qohlye's refusal to engage on his terms was simply entitled and immature.

[retrorats]

Some thoughts about Komaeda's fifth free time event and his relationship with Hinata

The fifth Komaeda free time event has always been very popular between Komahina fans, specially because the event was where the romantic tone of their relationship was consolidated for a lot of people. But even if the focus is usually on Komaeda's love confession, I have always felt that this free time event is way more important and meaningful besides that. This event has on it a lot of important moments that say a lot about their relationship, and that make very clear the most prevalent themes of it.

The free time event starts with Komaeda wondering why Hinata is still going out in his way to talk to him. Hinata answers that he is doing it so he can hear the rest of his story, in his typical fashion of rationalizing and dismissing his feelings for Komaeda. While Komaeda tells the rest of the story, he says one of the most important things for this free time event, and in general for the relationship of Komaeda and Hinata.

This dialogue reveals to us the important information about how Komaeda not only perceived the similarities between them since they first met, but also how since that moment, he deeply believed that Hinata would be able to understand him. All of the things that this scene explains are the fundamental basis of the relationship of Komaeda and Hinata. Komaeda's attachment towards Hinata comes from a place of feeling like he had finally found a person that could get to understand him and as we will see with other parts of this free time event, he thought he had finally found a person that could love him.

Hinata's response towards Komaeda is also important to mention. Hinata negates to be not like Komaeda, he rejects their similarities and also in certain way he rejects the connection Komaeda feels between them, something that's accentuated even more considering how Komaeda interprets his words as having lost the opportunity of having someone inheriting his soul. But even in his negation, there's something deeply interesting in the way Hinata phrases certain things in it. If we look well at what Hinata is saying, we can see how while he negates being similar to Komaeda, his negation is mostly focused on negating his misery, and he seems to silently accept being a bystander that is devoid of any unique aura possessed by the talented.

In a certain way, Hinata's negation in this part has always read to me as being a last resort to try to distinguish himself in some way from Komaeda. Compared to other parts where Komaeda alludes to him and Hinata being similar, here the negation of Hinata doesn't feel so unaware like in the other times that he negated it, here it feels more like Hinata is legitimately aware of how similar they are; He says that he's not miserable, and that he is ultimately different from Komaeda as a last resort to negate what he already knows, and to dissociate himself from him.

Komaeda talks about how he doesn't have anyone in this world and how absolutely lonely his existence is. Something very interesting that Komaeda says, is that he mentions his ideologies as the main reason for being alone.

This moment is not only interesting because it puts Komaeda loneliness to be something that is a lot about his way of thinking being completely incomprehensible for other people, but also because it provides us with certain information about the relationship between Komaeda and Hinata. People distancing from Komaeda because of his beliefs is not something that is only mentioned here, but it is very explicitly the main reason why Hinata distanced himself from Komaeda since chapter 1. Because of this, it's not hard to read this to be a certain reference to his relationship with Hinata -a person that Komaeda really felt he could connect with- and how he also ended up distancing himself because of his way of thinking, like other people Komaeda knew.

This seems to be the principal reason of why Komaeda seems to be so focused on believing that he and Hinata are similar, and also in the belief of Hinata being able to understand him. Komaeda has been misunderstood by everyone all his life and his ideologies have isolated him from the rest of society. All of this has resulted on Komaeda having the fixation on finding someone that would be able to understand him, this fixation ultimately leading him to have a very intense attachment towards Hinata even when they barely really knew each other, because it was probably the first time he had known someone that was similar enough to him to understand him.

There is also a certain connection between Komaeda thinking that they are similar, Hinata distancing himself from him and Komaeda's surprised reaction in chapter 1 seeing Hinata had started to think lowly of him. When Komaeda thought that he and Hinata were similar, he probably also believed that Hinata had a similar way of thinking, and because of that, he wouldn't just distance himself from Komaeda like the others when discovering the truth of the murder.

Considering how Komaeda talks about feeling that Hinata was able to understand his feelings, how he implied that he wanted Hinata to "inherit his soul" and in general considering how much this free time event talks about their connection, is not hard to think that in certain way this line is also a little bit about Hinata. Obviously, Komaeda's desire to be loved wasn't born because of Hinata, but I do think considering all we have seen before, is logical to think that one of the reasons Komaeda was so attached to Hinata is because he saw in him -because of their similarities- someone that he could connect with, and for that same reason, someone that could love him.

This is specifically accentuated considering the very strong reaction that has Hinata regarding this statement, literally considering throwing everything he has believed about not forgiving Komaeda until that point. I don't think that his reaction is because he was aware of that fact, but I do think it was written in that way to accentuate how this was talking in a certain way about Hinata.

Hinata's extremely heartbreaking and intense response towards Komaeda "lying" could also be easily considered a hint towards this being in a certain way about Hinata, but his response to this is also about way more than just that. His reaction is due to a lot of things, for one part it's about how Hinata feels like he was just deceived by Komaeda again, after having spent so much time trying to actually understand him. But is also about how Hinata wanted to believe in the existence of the Komaeda he once knew. Both of these very strong reactions -this one and his reaction towards Komaeda wanting to be loved- are born from that, from the need to believe him and to have a proof that after all, there existed some truth about the Komaeda he once knew, that there was some logic behind Komaeda, that there existed a reason behind his behavior.

He specially wanted to believe on that line because of how human it makes Komaeda. His biggest desire being something as sensible and human as connection, and this desire, being only realized when on the verge of death, is something that makes Komaeda look very tragic. That makes, Komaeda, human and sensible, and his actions, suddenly are more understandable. Hinata wants to believe on this because he wants to make reason of Komaeda, and give a logic, a very human and sensible logic, to the way he acts.

To finalize, I really love this event because I feel that in it is conveyed all of the main themes and important parts of the relationship of Komaeda and Hinata. It's very beautiful for me to see all the little parts that make them themselves being presented so strongly and explicitly on a full event.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Might be more of a white culture thing. I get called names often when I point to actionable things one can do. Usually from particularly Black and other PoCs, they're more straight with me than white women are when they assume I'm a woman, even if I point out I'm NB and particularly don't subscribe to white (US Middle Class) woman's speech, which I never could quite master nor like.

There was a study on white women's speech about an Italian family, I think, granted US-based immigrants, where women of the family were taught more to be "peacemakers" and use indirect questions, (not the Jewish kind of questions) to particularly needle people into doing action.

Jewish speech (since I was raised Jewish as part of being adopted), tends to have more rhetorical questions to challenge people to think more deeper or examine their thoughts. (Plenty of papers on this, I actually wrote a long post about it)

But outside of (white) Jewish circles, often questions are used as passive aggressive behavior and ways to diffuse conflict. Such as the white woman speech of something like, "We do not hit other kids. How do you think the other kid feels?"

BTW, this is far from the white woman's tears and toxic white women's speech as pointed out by Robin DiAngelo, but does show the gulf between how women are treated between cultures and often I've observed PoCs are more likely to try to conform to white ways of gender when faced with someone white due to mainly stereotype threat and also some speech patterns which are harder to deal with if you aren't versed with how to deal with the toxicity. People tend to hedge their bets.

By the way, straight pitching here, but I'd really, really like a philosophical discussion on two things, though I'm well aware these are loosey goosey. And yes, maybe influenced by the US election:

The questions are these two:

Does true altruism exist? Is there a way to make an outgroup care about the in-group, when they have no skin in the game and keep showing up? I remember the episode you did about Sam Altman? But it didn't get into this question. We're stuck worldwide with people who don't care, but is there a philosophical way to get people to care about groups they don't belong to?

And the other question is how does one sell an idea of masculinity that is not the Alpha, Beta, etc set and can we escape that to men in such a way that they feel invited? I've read about sacred masculinity and also the secure masculinity models, but worldwide the shift towards that ultra masculinity seems to be winning because it feels powerful. The current movement of feminism is asking how to reframe masculinity itself.

I'd like to see it in an intersectional way for both topics. Such a way that it sees internationally and through lens of intersectional queerness.

You've circled around these topics, gone through them talked about queerness, communication, but I've felt like it's a glancing blow. I'm aware this is a hard ask. But I have to admit the last US election and watching other elections where people have swung far right on self interest alone over community has left me wondering if I missed something. Distrust of community that deep leaves me reeling.

I encountered women who were willing to, for example, stick it to trans people over protecting their own rights and philosophically I do not understand why they would choose hate over saying everyone deserves rights. I did the sit down and listen, but hit hard dead end walls, like I was being an elitist for going to college and the pursuit of knowledge is being snobby. Or literal professed Neo-Nazis, like telling me people should believe in Mein Kampf. And I'm sitting here thinking what more could I have done to make people care and care about people unlike them as a really marginalized person. It hit so many walls, and I tried very hard not to yell, scream, but reason through emotions, logic, but I can't help feeling a little frustrated that maybe I didn't know enough in order to get them to see a different way and move them that little bit or at least crack their wall through the interaction.

Separating The Art from the Artist ('s Gender)

an interesting thing I've observed:

I've been making art for my whole life, and I publicly transitioned a few years ago, and it's super interesting how much criticism changed when I came out

When I was in the closet the criticism I got for my work was a lot more useful. It was generally constructive, usually specific and actionable, usually coming from a place of sincerely engaging with my work even if it didn't always like it. So even the negative stuff was usually helpful?

Whereas now, most of the criticism I get seems a lot more "vibes based"? It's more vague; it's more likely to contain factual errors like "The work says X" when the work doesn't say that, or even says the opposite; the criticism is often less actionable; and it's more likely to treat my work as something that has accidental features to which the audience has a reaction that is the most important thing, rather than something that has deliberate features because I chose to put them there? And so it's judged much more by whether people vibed with it rather than by whether it achieved what I intended it to

idk, it's just interesting, maybe it's not a gender thing maybe it's just that people's media literacy is changing? maybe i'm attracting different audiences now? maybe I'm just worse lol

[bambisspeckles]

Stowaway ✿ Poly Pirate!141 x Reader

*pics for aesthetics only!

Summary: You accidentally sneak onto pirate crew 141's ship CW: Inaccurate depiction of pirates, poly!141, fem!reader, ghost and price are kinda assholes (for right now), soap is well soap, gaz is an angel sent from heaven, reader is held captive (ish), stockholm syndrome core but like in the way beauty and the beast is, no romance yet (sorry, but don't worry it won't really be a slowburn), self-edited! WC: 1.8K

It was a mistake, honestly you should have just stayed put. You have no idea why you thought it'd be a good idea to sneak onto any ship, at all, ever.

You suppose this cruel fate is karma for your actions.

It started in the early hours of the morning, when many passenger ships were docked. You had decided to pack a small bag with your most important belongings and sneak into one of the ships cargo holds. In theory it was a good idea, you figured most of the crew we be pretty occupied tending to passengers needs, therefore your chances of getting caught and thrown into the ocean were slim. It's a shame you the ship you decided to board wasn't a passenger ship.

You should have known, it didn't look remotely like a passenger ship. There weren't any nice amenities, only one small dining room, not nearly enough beds for the amount of people that come to and from your island, and there were too many suspicious looking locked chests. There was a voice inside your head screaming for you to get off the ship but the adrenaline being pumped through your body was too high, and the yearning to escape the hell your home brought to you overruled almost all your sense of logic and reasoning. When you found the cargo hold, you didn't even think twice before making your way inside, quickly scanning your surroundings to find the best place to hide. You decide to hide behind some unmarked crates, figuring they'd be bothered the least. You squeeze your body behind the boxes, maneuvering so all of you can be hidden well.

It feels like you're there for days, realistically you know that's not true, but you're so close to leaving this island and never looking back. No matter how tempted you are to bolt, you keep yourself firmly planted behind the crates. Finally, you hear voices, it doesn't seem like there's very many people and that makes your anxiety sky rocket, but it's much too late to sneak off and try to find another ship to become a stowaway in. Pushing your knees further into your chest, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. For hours you hear voices and footsteps above you, but no one seems to have any suspicions. In fact it's been so calm the rocking of the ship has your eyes fluttering shut, you've been fighting sleep but nothing has transpired for so long maybe a few minutes of shut eye won't hurt. As your mind battles between alertness and staying asleep you hear something.

Footsteps. Coming down the steps, right into the cargo hold.

Your heart drops into your stomach and your breath hitches. You squeeze your body into itself in an attempt to make it smaller, one of your hands coming to clasp your mouth shut. The footsteps get louder and louder until you see a large figure standing in the archway. You go rigid as you get a better look at him. He's no average sailor, he's a fucking pirate.

"Great." You think wryly. "If he finds me then I really am dead."

He's moving around some boxes, you're not quite sure why, and for a moment you think he has no clue you're there.

Unfortunately for you, that's where you're wrong.

In the blink of an eye he grabs you from behind your crate wall, holding you by the scruff of your neck like a naughty kitten. The look in his eye is dark, and the rest of his face is covered by a mask, a skull print adorning the fabric. He says nothing, only staring at you for a moment before throwing you over his shoulder and walking back up the steps, presumably to bring you to the rest of the crew.

Oh. you're totally fucked now.

The mans footsteps attract the attention of his crew as he walks across the deck, when he stops walking, he practically throws you onto the ground, forcing you to kneel before three other men.

"Wha' a bonnie thing she is… S' what tha' noise was? Was startin' worry I was finally losin' it." A man, Scottish you think, says as he stares at you. His thumb dragging down the side of your face as a devilish smirk graces his lips.

You flinch under his touch and the Scotsman quickly removes his hand but his touch is soon replaced by another, a man much more imposing than he. Rough hands gripping your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Was wonderin' why it sounded like there was a rat down in the cargo," A dark glint flashes through his eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. "Now tell me, stowaway, wha' the hell are ya doin' on my ship."

Tears well in your eyes as you struggle against his grip, and you can feel his impatience growing as he waits for you to respond. After another moment, the final man turns to speak to you.

"Captain asked ya a question love, best answer him before he gets angry." His voice is surprisingly gentle, and when you meet his gaze, soft brown eyes stare back at you, eyes filled with pity.

The look in his eye breaks you, and fat tears begin rolling down the apples of your cheeks.

"I'm… I'm sorry!" You choke out your words between sobs, your body taut under the piercing gaze of the Captain.

A beat of silence passes before the Captain of the ship releases you from his grip, your body crumbling into itself.

"I didn't know! I didn't- I don't… I just wanted to leave! I promise I didn't take anything a-and you can drop me off at your next stop, just please don't hurt me…" Your words come out watery, your voice hoarse and snot coming out of your nose, ugly sobbing as these men surround you.

The man with the soft brown eyes crouches down next you, his gentle hand wiping tears off your cheeks.

"You poor thing, you're all outta' sorts. M' sure you didn't mean any harm…" He looks towards his Captain but his head is still angled in your direction. "Go easy on her sir, poor thing is trembling."

The Captain scoffs, his arms folding over his chest as he studies you, his gaze scrutinizing, piercing through you.

"She shoulda' thought of that before sneaking onto my ship." He gives you another once over before ordering you to stand on your feet. You figure it's best to do what he says so you rise from the ground, knees almost buckling under you.

The group of men stare at you for a while, seemingly unsure of what to do with you. After a few moments, a deep voice from behind finally speaks, you turn to look at him, his skull mask making your spine tingle with terror.

"We should just throw er' off the ship, no bloody reason to keep the thing around." You wince at the way he refers to you, objectifying, dehumanizing.

"Now, now, Ghost, nae reason tae make such a hasty decision. The kitten's completely harmless! I say we keep er', it'll be so nice to have a bonnie thing on board." The man, Ghost, scoffs.

"We don' need liabilities layin' around Johnny. Sides' got no use for er'. M' sure Price is inclined to agree with me." Ghost turns his head towards Price, presumably waiting for some type of agreeance on what he said.

Before the Captain can even get a word out, he's interjected.

"M' inclined to agree with Soap- for different reasons," He pauses shooting Soap a look, but he merely shrugs back. "But I agree all the same. I mean look at er' poor thing is terrified, I doubt she came to pillage our goods Captain."

Price sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he mulls over his, limited, options. Everyone, including you, waits for him with bated breath. Selfishly, you hope he'll keep you around a bit longer, at least then you'll get a chance to make an escape plan.

Finally, the Captain speaks.

"She can stay, for now. We can keep er' in the cellar until I figure out wha' the hell to do with her." His words carry a tone of finality, a fact that has Ghost scoffing.

"You're jus' pickin' sides cause' Gaz wants to keep er' around." He motions towards the man next to you, bitter venom coming out alongside his words.

Gaz rolls his eyes, blowing out with an irritated sigh.

"Price isn't picking sides, he's doing what's right. Just cause' you don't agree with it doesn't mean that-" Price puts his hand on Gaz's shoulder, interrupting his sentence. A silent way of telling him "settle down."

Gaz relaxes under the Captains touch.

"Gaz, Soap, take er' down to the cellar, we'll keep er' there for now. Ghost, come with me to my quarters." Ghost mumbles something in response, but his words are muffled by his mask, something you're sure he's grateful for at this moment.

You, Soap, and Gaz watch him for a moment as he follows Price like a kicked puppy. When they're finally out of view, Soap and Gaz turn their attention back to you.

"C'mon kitten, yer gonna ave' tae be a bit uncomfortable tonight, the Captain didnae plan for any stowaways.." He chuckles at you playfully, something you'd find much more comforting under different circumstances.

You suddenly feel a hand on your back, the skin a bit rough even through the fabric of your clothes. You whip your head to look behind to see Gaz, his soft brown eyes still filled with that same look of pity. He and Soap begin gently guiding you towards the ships cellar.

"It's alright love, The Captain can be a bit cruel but he won't hurt you. Even pirates have their limits… Besides, I assure you we're not nearly as bad as some of the other pirates out there. We'll get you sorted out in the morning."

You have no reason to trust these men, all you've known is that pirates cause pain and destruction everywhere they go, but the only thing you can do right now is trust them. So, you nod timidly, letting them guide without resistance.

Hopefully you can escape at the next docking place.

[alieinthemorning]

Deepest, Darkest, Purest Love [Sylus] 

Content: World Underneath: Sealed in Dust Spoilers, Sylus Story Speculation, Angst, Soft Sylus, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Sylus…was an enigma to you. After the Nest, the forced resonating, and being told that he wanted to achieve his goal, he needed you to like him in some capacity. Now, you’ve ended up here in one of his many safe houses, wrapped in his arms on the couch while some movie played. Domestic bliss as its finest, but how did you end up here? You knew that it wasn’t just him playing with your feelings while you hopelessly fell for it. No…you knew that his feelings for you were real. His actions and words, although not always obvious, were always clear in the intentions. 

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

Despite how you acted toward him, or tried to deceive yourself. You knew you loved him. You loved this man something fierce. And honestly? 

It scared you—terrified you.

You understood that you and Sylus shared a past. One of your many pasts, over your many deaths. Unfortunately, you couldn’t remember much (not that you think you ever could). Since EVER had gotten their hands on you and the Aether Core, memories come up spotty and painful. You want to remember, you really do, but it doesn’t seem like you have an actual say in the matter. But from what you can remember…you’ve both died…many, many times. Pitted against each other for some reason or other, then forced to become close—fall in love, just to do it all over again—Oh.

Oh.

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

You were pitted against each other for the Aether core. That’s what wants to devour him—this damned Aether Core. 

“Sweetie?” His thumb brushed against your under eye, catching the wetness there. “Why are you crying?” 

“I’m sorry!” You wail into his chest. “I’m so sorry for hurting you!”

“I’ve told you before that it was my fault for pushing you—” He grunted as you shoved away from him, shaking your head violently. 

“I’m talking about before! Way back when—I still don’t remember it all, but I know that I hurt you, so—” You looked up at him, tears caressing your waterline. “How can you love me so deeply?” 

“I’ve told you this once, and I’ll tell you as many times as you need.” He smiled, and you break. 

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

You know, and you hate yourself for selfishly enveloping yourself in that love. 

A love you do not deserve. 

I was trying to do Soft Sylus, which! for the two lines that he speaks, he is in fact soft, so I'm counting it! But it ended up as angst regardless lol.

Now, let's get into what might be his Myth or one of his many pasts with you. I think that the two of you were pitted against each other for the Aether Core. Whoever the hell had y'all fighting wanted to make one of you stronger, and having one kill the other for the core seemed a lot more fun than just choosing one. But! I don't think it worked, y'all got tired of fighting and choose not to take arms when it was time, which not the best idea because you'd be punished, but hey, it did eventually get the message through to them. However, they took another approach, which was getting the two of you closer, so when they did pit you two against each other again, one of you would have to throw your life down for the other, and in this case…it was Sylus.

At least! That's what I'm thinking lol. Just a little theory!

I'm on Bluesky btw~

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

[raspberry-vinaigrette]

i am pondering dialtown peter since i just did the roger dlc good end. warning in advance for roger dialtown dlc spoilers. cool? cool anyways

i just think like. okay the good ending cutscene with peter is kind of. abrupt. and confused people according to doggo and i can see why, it's... a bit weird in tone and isn't built up to as well as it could've been imo. no shade to the ending though the ending is fuckin AWESOME and that roger speech shook me to my core. however i think the peter intrusion can be reinterpreted to be really interesting with a bit of canon wiggle room, so to speak, because like --

imagine you are peter. you're the straight-laced, responsible co-manager of the factory, and you have been for a while. you know that you aren't easy to get along with and you don't really try to change this. it keeps things under wraps. it's all you can really do when everything around you is chaotic and wacky and you're so consistently left out of the loop. things are done without you being consulted. you feel like a joke so you have to prove you're the only thing that isn't. and really, it's your fault, in a way. you're the villain here for letting these things happen. you are to blame.

and then there's your best friend roger. you feel, sometimes, like he's the only person youre tangibly helping. you got him off of alcohol. you're always the one he leans on, always the one checking in. he is a good man. life has dealt him a bad hand, and people laugh at him sometimes, but you know he's good. he tries so hard. you wonder if maybe you aren't trying hard enough, but maybe your destiny is just to be this way. you don't think about it. he seems happy around you and that's enough, you suppose. and then management changes.

for all you know you are responsible, you also believe there is something rotten within you. something that will only weigh others down. you are able to be so very normal amidst the chaos of work, but you believe you can't be personable. you're too methodical, too straightforward, too managerial. and people want a person to talk to them, not a rigid machine. you look in the mirror and wonder how much of you is just the phone on your head. you look in the mirror and wonder who you are. but you can't fathom a good man like roger could look in the mirror and see anything but the sun. you trust him. you know he's a trainwreck, a mess, clumsy and irresponsible sometimes, but he's a good man. you know he can prove himself. maybe if you just keep at arms length, don't take over too much like you tried last time...

and things are a mess anyway. things are worse. and you begin to wonder if maybe you're the issue. if maybe your destiny is just to take over and rule with an iron fist, because that is the only way things can be done. this rot inside you, this thing that is clearly only making roger worse by your presence -- it must be killed at the source. so you have to play the game. you know what has to happen, don't you? you have to take over. and then everyone will be miserable, and roger will see how good he is, how much potential he has, and he will usurp you. he will be good. he will surprise everyone. and the rotten festering thing will be taken out, and he will never be dragged down again. because it must be you holding them back. you're the common denominator.

you're the villain.

peter doesn't understand that not being the boss is better for roger. he doesn't comprehend he is likable as a person moreso than he is a corporate entity, a responsible manager -- the only person he may believe likes him beyond that is caroline, and even then he has a fucking board discussion about if he should be allowed to act more than completely rational and reasonable, with a pros/cons list! yeah that's meant to be a jokey dialogue scene but i still think it reflects how peter tries so hard to be rational and reasonable and i think to some extent he believes that makes him less human. roger is so bright, of course he can surprise people and show them the sun! peter may be good at management but how far will that get him when surely nobody wants to directly associate with him? he is a menace.

he does not understand that roger cares so deeply for him, the same way roger doesn't understand people love him without him having to prove himself. idk. this is only half canon and its kinda text extrapolation and interpretation to fit w the ending scene but its an interesting thought

[acesandocs]

Some of the different phases in Åse's life.

3-6 Like most are at that age he's a curious but shy kid. He has at that point started to pick up on how a lot of people seem to dislike him but he doesn't know why. His mom and grandparents try to shield him from most of it but he still gets teased and bullied by a lot of the other kids though since he was so little at that point he couldn't do much about it. (theme)

6-9 This is the point he gets big enough to actually defend herself. This period is marked by a lot of visits from angry neighbors about whatever new fight he had gotten into with their kids. His mom usually didn't punish him for this though as even she knew nine times out of ten he was just defending himself. And while he didn't actively start exploring her gender identity until after she moved to America, she did start asking a lot of question about why certain things were only for boys or girls, like having short hair. He ended up cutting it himself after getting into an argument with his mom about it and it was mostly a decision made out of spite and just to see what would happen. (theme)

9-14 When he came into his preteens he had proven to be more trouble that he was worth so most left him alone at this point and just judged him from a distance. She also started making her own clothes and expressing herself though her fashion, taking a lot of inspiration from the fairy tale illustration in her favorite books. She also made her closest childhood friend when she was nine. And maybe she also wanted to look lovingly into her eyes and kiss her but all girls want to do that with their friends right? They stayed friends up until Åse had to move which was also her first heartbreak. (theme)

14-18 Maybe the worst part of her life if you asked her, not that she really want to talk about it anyway. Moving took a big toll on her and after a falling out with her mom she ran away from home. She fell in with a bad person who was very controlling and made her dress more to his liking than what she actually felt comfortable in. She wore a lot of dark colors and she felt and looked the least like herself. (theme)

18-19 After some questionable decisions and a short incarceration she officially became a fugitive from the law and thus started traveling west to escape the heat. He presented fully male at this point as well as starting to bind his chest. Traveling was ok enough and in some ways he got to fulfill a childhood dream of traveling the country. But the stress of not having a stable and safe place to sleep at night and not knowing if one bad run in with a cop could land her back in jail took a toll on her. So did all the back alley fighting matches he took part in to make money, its a miracle he still has all his teeth. (theme)

19-21 after getting scouted at a match in st Louis a subordinate of atlas got him in touch with her and he offered her a job, to which she agreed. She was a bit of an outsider at first but eventually found her footing. He kept presenting male but did open up about his assigned gender to a few people. (theme)

21-22 while she wasn't all that close to Atlas his death still affected her through the shock waves it sent though the Lackadaisy. She might be the person with the most reason to pack up and leave other than maybe Horatio. Still she stays, because even if he doesn't want admit it she cares about these people. It took me a few tries to land on his default design but I feel he started to come together when I gave him the neckerchief. Its kind of a signature item and I try to include it in most of his designs now. He inherited it from his mom and thus didn't have it as a child. It kind of represent him stepping into being an independent adult. While the general style and length of his hair has stayed the same how I draw it is something I have and still struggle with. This is probably the closest Ive come to being happy with it. I struggled similarly with her pants as well for some reason. They have ended up looking more like bell bottoms thank suit pants which isn't all that historically accurate but its ultimately what I think looks best. (theme)

[whateverloomis]

Dilf!Billy Loomis x AFAB reader (Stepcest)

I honestly think Billy would be hella single as a grown ass man but for this one let's imagine he's maintaining a shallow relationship to get away with another killing :p

Warnings: Stepcest, predetermined family, fingering, teasing, p in v, roughness, infidelity, unprotected sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight degradation, mentions of Stu, age gap (middle aged Billy and reader in their 20s,) AFAB reader (no pronouns,) unedited

Your mother had never been shy with her love life. She's had multiple partners after your dad passed away. Random hookups with attractive older men happened pretty often too. You're sure it's all been to fill the void and drown the unwanted emotions.

You've never really had the best relationship with her, you bud heads a lot and have grown distant since your biological dad passed, not to mention the countless arguments about every little inconvenience.

For that reason and many others you haven't been secretive about the attraction towards your step father, Billy Loomis. You don't care if he actually loves her or not. You'll let any selfish thoughts cross your mind and oh boy, you want that man inside you as soon as possible.

He's been living with you and your mother for 2 years and as time went by it got more difficult to contain yourself around him, especially since he openly flirts with you and you swear that one of these days you're going to jump on his cock the second you find a chance.

One particular day your mother left for the weekend on a business trip. You were more than sure that she'd been cheating on Billy with his best friend, Stu Macher. They've worked together for years and it's so obvious that they've got something going on.

To be completely honest, you wouldn't mind having Stu as your next step father. He's just as hot as Billy and you never miss the way that he checks you out whenever you're around him. Gosh, if you could have both of them at the same time you know you'd cum the second they both lay hands on you.

Being alone with Billy for the weekend was going to be difficult. You haven't hooked up with anyone in so long and touching yourself isn't satisfying anymore. The way he shamelessly walks around shirtless with sweatpants that highlight his cock drives you crazy and you don't know how you'll survive around him.

Because of that you were feeling bold. You wanted to risk it all, and you did.

It was a Saturday morning and you wake up ready to take the day off to relax after a long week. After you brushed your teeth and showered, you went to the kitchen in just a thong, a thin cotton crop and knee high socks. You knew Billy would walk in the kitchen any second after hearing the water turn off in the shower and were ready to pounce at any moment.

"Well good morning to you too." The sound of his deep voice instantly sent shivers down your spine.

Billy was standing against the countertop behind you shamelessly looking at your exposed ass and gorgeous legs. His hair was damp from the shower and slicked back. No shirt on. Grey sweatpants. He was out to hunt and you were his easy prey.

Turning around, you smiled innocently at him and pointed at the stove, "You want pancakes? I'm making myself some."

Billy could see right through you and he wasn't playing your games.

At your question he chuckled and walked towards you. His hands instantly found your waist and his eyes captured yours, "I'm hungry for something else," he said and squeezed your flesh slightly, his eyes lingering on your tits before scanning your face.

He was driving you mad. You couldn't help but bite your lower lip to suppress a pathetic moan that threatened to come out of you.

Billy seemed to notice and smirked at your reaction, "I don't think your mother would like knowing you're walking around the house looking like that while I'm here," he said and it was your turn to chuckle at his nonchalant comment.

"I don't think she'd like to see her husband grab me like he is right now but here we are," you answered and he lost it.

Billy ran his hands down and under your ass cheeks before picking you up. He sat you on the counter and positioned himself between your legs. His large hands rested on your thighs and he occasionally squeezed them.

"Don't use that tone with me," he said half serious and you laughed teasingly as his words.

"Why? Is daddy gonna ground me? Hm?" you teased further and Billy grabbed your face with his right hand under your jaw, making you look into his eyes. You smirked at him and that was enough, the man crashed his lips against yours and kissed you hungrily.

You were desperate. Both of you were. Your hands were tangled in his hair and he was holding you impossibly close to his body. He groped your ass as you rocked against him slowly.

He was hard and needy before, but having you like this was going to make him cum right then and there if he wasn't careful.

Billy slid one of his hands from your ass to your hip, down your inner thigh and finally over your core. He felt the wetness through the fabric of your thong and he gasped at you mockingly, "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked," he said and you whined softly. So desperate to feel him inside you. Your body ached for his cock.

The man couldn't contain himself much longer. He was already pulling your panties to the side and playing with your cunt. Rubbing your sensitive bud in circular motions and running his fingers down to your throbbing hole, dipping them just enough to pleasure you but not enough to satisfy the craving. He was torturing you. Torturing himself.

"Mm... Billy please," you moaned and grabbed his big hand, pushing his fingers all the way inside you and whining at the feeling of finally being filled up. It still wasn't enough but fuck did it feel amazing when he started to fuck you with his fingers.

You throbbed around him and he groaned at the feeling.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good... I bet you'll feel better around my dick," he whispered in your ear as you fucked yourself with his fingers.

You grabbed his cock and felt how big he is. Gosh you were so right when you imagined him as you rode your dildo in your room alone at night.

"Mmphh... Please fuck me," you begged and Billy pulled his fingers out of your cunt, sucking on them teasingly and moaning at your taste.

He pulled you towards him by your thighs and you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively. He held your legs around his middle and carried you to his and your mother's bedroom.

After he released you, you crawled on the bed and positioned yourself on the edge on all fours, giving him a perfect view of your behind. You slowly removed your thong for him and revealed your glistening cunt.

Billy groaned at the sight and pulled his sweatpants down just enough to release his throbbing cock. He wanted to eat you up and taste your whole body but right then he couldn't handle the sight of your waiting hole. He'd been wanting to bury himself inside you for so long, and when he finally did you both moaned at the same time.

He didn't bother to wear protection and you honestly didn't give a fuck at that point. You didn't care if your stepfather knocked you up, as fucked up as it sounds.

"Ahh fuck... Harder Daddy, harder!" You nearly screamed, and to that he complied.

Billy grabbed your hips harshly and pounded you hard enough that you felt his cock all the way up your stomach. He pressed your head against the mattress, your back arched perfectly for him and the sight of your ass cheeks bouncing against him was nearly enough to make him cum inside you, but he was smarter than that of course.

"Getting fucked by your stepfather, who does that?" He shamed you and it made you throb around him. You were nearly going to cum just by hearing his words, it was a chase for release between the two of you.

After a few more thrusts the knot inside you finally broke as his tip brushed against your gspot. You came around him and screamed at the feeling of the intense waves that were coursing through your body. You had one, two, three mini orgasms after the big O and fuck you needed more.

Billy nearly bust his load inside your sweet pussy, but he managed to pull out and cum all over your back. He took a mental picture at how good your body looked covered in his seed.

"I'll clean up the mess for you," he whispered teasingly before giving you a lingering kiss.

As he walked into the bathroom you heard the front door open. Your mom and Stus voice echoed in the living room.

Fuck.

"I'll take care of it..."

•

I know I know, we hate cliffhangers but I love teasing y'all :p ;)

Hope you enjoyed reading <33

[edledamianfan]

Ride homes late at night sure is a feeling, especially on a high way going at a fast speed on the way home. Looking at the window and u see the whole city below you. The lights and everything, it's just a feeling, fleeting moment that last with u for a lifetime.

I wonder that's what dick felt when he was Robin on the Batmobile. Every single night on the same roads, highways, going out, going back back after fighting crimes.

But there is something missing here.

Having music playing would've been nicer.

It would distract him from his thoughts.

Bats doesn't really do music ... but it doesn't hurt to ask. Well he did say no at first but after dick mentioning his thoughts about his parents and stuff. He reconsidered and ends up approving it.

Spooky decides picks the music until he realised he know nothing about today's music. So it look him a while until he found a playlist he seemed to find nice.

So the next time they're in the Batmobile, when the coast is clear and the night is saved and all they gotta do now is head home. Bats plugs in the USB for the songs and plays them.

Dick knows some of these songs. It's pretty popular in his time and there are some songs that he's not familiar with. But it gets him away from his thoughts so it's somewhat worked. He'll have to listen to it as this now their daily playlist.

The USB then stays there for a while even when dick is no longer here with Bruce, out doing his own thing. He didn't want to remove it.

And then a new Robin comes along. Jason asking what is that USB and Bats offers him if he wants to hear the playlist. He said yeah ofc.

1 min in he's thought to himself that Bats listens to popular songs, although these are kind of old. I guess he's somewhat the same like everyone.

And then Jason died.

USB was not touched again for a while until tim came along. Batman was pretty much on edge during this time, although curious about the USB Tim decides not to pry on it - directly to the man. Instead he sneak in back to the Batmobile during bed time just to see what's the USB is about. And then caught by Bruce himself.

Well he was mad at first but after realizing he was just curious what is in the plugged USB. Bruce decides to just show it for himself what it is about. Tim was definitely not expecting it to be a playlist. Bruce then asks if he wants to play this playlist. Tim just rolls with it.

Then Stephanie came along. She was pretty much straightforward asking what was in the USB. But Bruce was real defensive about it for some reason so Stephanie just shrinked back. He then realized his mistake and offers if she wants to hear the playlist. She happily accepts.

This time Bruce died.

Dick is now stuck with a kid he is not sure on how to handle. Stuck back in Gotham. Stuck in the costume he was trying to get away from.

He wasn't sure on how to do anything but he needs to do so anyways because he's the only one who can do it. This that happens and so the new dynamic duo was formed.

They then got in the Batmobile. And there Grayson is greeted again by that familiar USB. He thought he forgot, Bruce had changed Batmobiles a couple of time and with all that is happening he didn't think that he would remember to bring the inessential USB playlist into the new ride everytime.

He felt his warm all the same again.

Maybe a bit emotional.

But it maybe the inessential USB playlist gave him all the motivation and courage he needed at that moment.

He then stepped on the gas, drive out of the cave.

Into the night.

End note:

This was my playlist I was thinking about. U can check it out if u want! These are most of the songs I remembered that used to be on the car USB. Uhhh this ended up being longer than I thought I was gonna do like a short silly idea but hi if u reached the end 😅

[blu3-ja3]

IT'S TIME! second to last one of this little series! I hope you've all enjoyed these but also be ready for the actual story! It's going to be a good one I promise!

!TRIGGER WARNING! Blood, Semi Graphic Depictions of Violence, Panic Attacks, Semi Graphic Depictions of Injuries

1) Open Doors Can Be Closed For A Reason

Since day one my office door is open unless it's needed to be closed. More often than not it's open while I work, my office is secluded and at the far end of a very loud and echoey hallway. It's an unwritten rule though that if my door is closed do not open. The rule is there for one person really and that's Ghost.

I promised him his privacy from the world while I did my formal work. At first he hated removing his mask for me, I made sure it was the first thing or last thing we did so it was done and out of the way. It was purely for medical needs, I worked fast and efficiently. Which he seemed to like, made him comfortable. I hardly knew what he looked like, he was as much an enigma to me as he was anyone else. And that made Ghost comfortable so I was comfortable.

Then Las Almas happened and I got a proper look at the young man's face. He trusted me with that information well after we got back on base, though I did my best to keep things quick.

Soap burst into my office carrying a staggering Ghost. The younger man deposited Ghost onto the nearby cot before quickly shutting my curtains and door.

"Doc! Ghost hit his head real hard, got him here as quick as I could!" I rushed over towards the lieutenant allowing Soap to remove his partners mask.

"Ghost I'm removing your mask now alright mate? I've gotta check you out and make sure everything is okay."

I stand patient to let Soap work, he's gentle and removes the fabric deftly. I start to move towards Ghost when I hear the click of a door knob. On pure instinct alone I whirl and stride forwards, shoving who ever just opened my door out. The young man tumbles backwards staring at me like I'd just slapped him and told him I'd fecked his mother.

"I don't know what you're fecking doin' but when that door is closed no one is allowed to enter!"

"No need to be so rude about it"

"You listen here you little gobshite and you listen well, if my door is opened you're more than welcome to prance your way in. But if the door is feckin' closed you turn around and leave."

"But I have important docu-"

"I don't give a shite I said leave! Go drop them off with Captain Price! Now leave!"

I watched as the young man scampered away down the hall. I turned around quickly and entered the room, immediately going over towards Ghost and setting about working on his injury. Once everything was good and Ghost was resting Soap spoke up.

"You were a little harsh on the kid Doc"

"Hmm maybe, but I have rules for a reason. They're there for a reason, and protecting my patient is number 1 on the list of reasons."

"I'm sure Simon would appreciate that Doc... Thank you."

I nod and continue my work at my desk as Soap sits next to Ghost. My door remains shut until Ghost is aware of everything and given the all clear. Though he doesn't say much I know he appreciates the gesture.

2) History Repeats

I can't see anything it's pitch black but I know I have my eyes open... it's just dark and wet... This was not how this op was supposed to go. Everything went to shit so fast, I think extraction is questionable, and I think I'm bleeding. It's really hard to focus right now, everything is muffled and fuzzy. I keep getting woken up by something....

No it's someone... Tall, dark, only white skull, cranky Manchester accent... It's Ghost, good he's a smart kid. I can feel the smile on my face fall. He's missing something... Where's Soap?

"Don' know Cap, gotta focus on you right now..."

I see him move as some of the dirt behind blows up behind him... Are we getting shot at? Fuck it's hard for me to think. I heard Ghost rumble something before a loud boom... He must have hit what he was aiming for cause he moved to pick me up. So warm I could fall asleep here... Ghost can handle this... He's a smart lad.

"Shit Doc you're freezing....Hey now talk to me Doc, how's the sleeve going? Johnny making any progress on your missing piece?" I smile at the mention of Soap he's such a good artist.

"Yeah, Johnny Boy's a good kid... I'm so happy you two found each other. Everyone deserves happiness, Simon, even you laddie." I'm so tired, maybe just resting my eyes for a bit... Yea... Yeah that sounds... That sounds real good.

"Hey Doc, got a joke I want to run past you. It's for my Johnny but I'd like to test it first yeah?" I smile, I love Simon's jokes. They're awful but everyone smiles when he says them so they're truly perfect.

"Go fer it, lad. What's the joke?"

"Why does the military plant trees Doc?" I open my eyes and look towards Ghost but everything starts spinning. My head is pounding... Why is it pounding? Gotta respond to Simon, he's telling me a joke.

"Why?" My voice is so quiet, why? Are we trying to be quiet? Everything feels so loud though...

"To grow their infant-tree Doc... Hey, on me Captain!" My head snaps up to follow the order, I can't see much of Simon's face. Just the bright white skull, it's glowing so bright.

A searing flash of pain shoots through my right side, I feel warmth seeping into my cloth. Simon seemed to notice, he said something but it's so hard to hear him. I'm shivering and it gets worse as Simon sets me down. We're in a room, there's a bunch of noise... No, no, not noise it's voices. I know these voices, it's my boys. They're okay... They're safe... They're scared, why? What's wrong?

I feel something warm on my shoulder, it's so warm... I want more, it's so cold. Why is it so cold? Another flash of pain from my right it makes it hard to breathe as I'm being sat up. Something warm is beside me... No it's behind me, I lean against it.

"Maevis we've gotta get your shirt off... You're hurt love." I'm scared, why am I scared... Oh!

"No, they'll see it. They can't see it..."

"It's just me and Price, Doc. We need to see what's wrong." John... John's seen but Ghost? No he'll understand... It's only fair, I've seen his face...

"You promise? I'm scared... I'm scared of what... You'll see..." It's so hard to speak. Why is it so hard?

I'm moved again, away from the warmth. My shivering gets worse as my shirt is pulled off. There's a dull throbbing on my right that turns to a white hot pain when something touches it.

"Doc, this is going to hurt... But you need stitches." Stitches? Is it that bad?

"You promise? I trust you Simon... But I'm scared... Everything hurts and I'm scared."

"I promise Mom... You're getting out of here."

The pain starts very quickly, a pinching stabbing pain. At first it's only annoying but then it gets worse and worse... I try to focus on my breathing... It's too much I can't do this, I'm going to be sick...

Black.

There's a dull ache from my hip and something is wrapped around my hip. I'm sitting upright against something warm and solid. I'm in a vehicle, a car? There's the sway of being on the road and the bumping of hitting pot wholes. I open my eyes and my vision begins to swim. I groan as the pounding in my head comes back tenfold.

"She awake Ghost?" I look to see Prices eye staring at me through the rear view window.

"I'm awake, feel like I was hit by a feckin' truck." I try to sit up but I feel a hand stop me.

"Go back to sleep Doc, you need the rest." I adjust myself so I'm sitting up a bit before my vision spins.

I lay back against Ghost again, trying to keep my eyes open but the young Lieutenant was right. So I concede the fight and close my eyes.

3) Matters of Trust

"Maevis, I'm warning you. The Lieutenant is a bit of a lone wolf."

"How do you mean John?"

"He's known to disappear, leave behind teammates, go against orders. You're better off leaving him until you gain some rapport with him, take one of the sergeants, Gaz is a good choice..."

"How am I going to gain said rapport if we aren't on the field together? If I'm to gain his trust we'll have to work together, I don't expect his trust to come for free. Sending me on this mission with him will be the best way for everything to move forward."

"Maevis..." John sighs shaking his head, "Fine but understand that it could rapidly become a solo op."

"I'm aware, John, but I also trust that the Lieutenant won't get me killed. I have to give trust in order to gain trust and as his higher up it's up to me to make that first step... You taught me that John."

"I regret everything I've ever taught you. Fine, Ghost come out I know you're there."

I turn around to see the shadows in the corner shift and form the almost mountain of a man known as Ghost. Impressive. Also useful to know.

"Pleasure to formally meet you lad! Doctor Maevis O'Connor!" I stick my hand out in front of me.

"Nice to meet you as well, Captain O'Connor." He takes my hand in his and shakes once.

"Let's get this briefing over with John. The faster we're on the ground, the faster we're out." I turn back to the table with all the collected information on it.

4) Surprise

I'm in my office with boxes everywhere. We've moved to a better base, there's less barracks but it's an actual full facility with everything Price has been asking for. Everyone has been excited because they're getting more personal rooms instead of shared bunks.

My office and barracks are next to each other with my office being at the end of the hall and my barracks to the left. I've already finished unpacking and setting up my barracks so I'm in my office.

I'm currently going through files and sorting alphabetically. Placing them into my new filing cabinets, I never thought myself to be someone who would get excited over organized filing cabinets but here I am. I'm finishing up the last cabinet when I hear someone clear their throat. I turn around to find Ghost standing in front of my desk.

"Hello Lieutenant! How can I help you lad?"

"Don't have much to finish in my quarters so I figured I'd see if you'd like some help, I know you'll be setting up your cabinets. "

"I'm a bit surprised but I won't say no!"

I moved to my desk and wrote down my planned layout for my medical cabinets and drawers. I helped Ghost separate the boxes of medical and personal. I gave him the layout and left to unpack my desk supplies and set up another cabinet full of supplies. Ghost was eventually pulled away by Soap but he let me know the cabinet was done.

It was about an hour later before I finished with my medical cabinet. I turned to unpack the last box on my desk, it's full of personal items that go on my shelf. Medical book and my medical license, a couple of knick knacks from different places I've been. A photo of the 141, my previous medical squad, and a picture of my squad when Price was my Lieutenant and I was a sergeant. I had a couple of empty shelves but I figured they'd get filled in time.

I turned to my desk and moved the box to find an envelope and a small box. The envelope has Ghost's hand writing on it. I sat down in my chair and opened the envelope.

'Doc, we knew today would be busy so we all got together for a celebration in the new rec room. The box is from me, enjoy and we'll see you there. - The 141 boys'

I smiled and began to open the small box. Inside was a bunch of cloth, removing the cloth I found a glass blown four leaf clover. It fits in my palm as I look at it before I turn around and set it on my desk next to my photo of William. I walk into the rec room to find the rest of my team huddled together.

"You usually make us a cake today, to celebrate William's birthday. But we figured we could help honor him today since it has been a long day. Surprise Maevis!" Price claps a hand on my shoulder as Gaz turns around holding a small cake with simple chocolate frosting designs. We cut the cake and chatted about the new base. Once everyone began to turn in for the night, I approached Ghost.

"I wanted to thank you for the clover, you didn't have to. I owe you, I'll get you a bottle of bourbon as repayment"

"It was a gift Doc, saw it and thought you'd like it. You don't owe me... Though I'll never say no to a bottle of bourbon."

Id eventually give Ghost his bottle of bourbon. That one gift started a trend of random clover trinkets appearing on my desk until the last of my shelves were filled. For each little trinket I baked something for the team as repayment.

5) Unconditional

My eyes fly open as I shoot up from my bed, heart racing. I tried to calm my breathing and rubbed my eyes. Memories of Las Almas citizens screaming, pleas for help from my burning patients and friends, my own screams and the memory of blistering heat burning my skin all whirling together in my mind.

I get out of bed, I've gotta take a walk. Calm myself down, get ahold of myself. I walked towards the mess hall and noticed a figure standing outside. They're tall, well built, in a hoodie with the name 'Riley' across the back. I make two cups of tea, nothing fancy just some chamomile with honey.

I approach Ghost, standing next to him and handing him a mug. I stood there in silence knowing Ghost wouldn't confide in me verbally but my presence was comfort, enough. I sip my tea looking up at the sky trying to find a constellation or two.

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you do it?"

"I do a lot Shade you'll have to be more specific."

"You're kind? To me... You're such... Augh. I don't know how to phrase this."

"Then just talk, whatever you need to say will come about eventually."

"THAT! You're so patient and understanding. Why? Haven't you been burned enough?" He tensed at that before I set a gentle hand on his arm. He flinches away before relaxing.

"I treat all of you like this, I can't really explain why. I've been like this for so long it's hard to think of myself any other way. I couldn't imagine not treating you lads with kindness. It's just my nature to nurture."

"And my nature is violent, so why be so nurturing towards me?"

"Simon" He flinches again at the name but I continue, "Your nature isn't violent, I've seen how gentle you are. It's clear as day when you're with MacTavish but if you know what to look for it's there with Gaz, Roach and Price too."

I can see his eyes tearing up as I continue, "You have to be gentle with yourself lad and take a step back from being the Ghost. Even if it's only around Soap, you can do it around us also. You're human Simon, despite everything you're human. And humans are fragile creatures." I turn to look up at Ghost as more tears well up in his eyes.

I opened my arm as an invitation, one I expected to be denied. I was slightly surprised as Ghost accepted the hug, clinging tightly to me as he sobs silently into my shoulder. I run my hand up and down his back, gently comforting him. After sometime Ghost calms down, I have him finish his tea before guiding him towards Soap's room.

"Doc my room's not down this way."

"I know but you shouldn't be alone tonight."

I knock on the door in front of me and explain to Soap what happened, briefly not giving many details. He gently guided Ghost into the room before telling me goodnight and closing his door. I make my way back towards my room, finding myself sleeping slightly easier. Reminding myself to be gentle.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Jonathan Pine

Summary: Jonathan Pine is very nice to work for but you've been fooled before.

Warnings: Implied age discrimination, Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is 40+ years old and female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Previous

True to his word, Jonathan saw to your pleasure all through the night. He was attentive to all of your needs, including aftercare. His tenderness was such a foreign experience and you never wanted it to end. Both of you were grateful that it was the weekend. Jonathan didn't want to stop showing you how much mean to him and you weren't sure you'd be able to walk for a while.

While the sex was everything you could have wanted, and more, you really appreciate the time between rounds. Jonathan's voice was pleasant to listen to and you found yourself enjoying the conversations. He was so attentive, quick to provide the comfort you needed. Even just holding each other was often enough to make you feel safe and cared for. As much as the two of clicked at work, it seemed your personal lives just might work together as well.

"At some point we will have to talk about how this will affect our work," you sigh as you're cuddled together.

"Very true, my Rose," he murmurs. "I suppose this means you won't be taking up Mr. Levinson's offer?"

"I probably wasn't going to do so anyways," you confess. "I'd be living where I work, kept in the background like a dirty secret. I'm not interested in that."

"In that case, we should probably set up a meeting with Romanov. Being upfront with HR, and the department."

"Well, we don't need a big announcement or something. Let the department figure it out, or ask. But I do agree that HR should know. I'd hate to be a stain on your employment record."

Jonathan maneuvers so that he's on top of you, his deep blue eyes capturing yours. "Being with you will never be a blemish on my record. If anything, the fact that it took so long to confess my feelings should be my true shame."

The sincerity with which he says that has you emotionally reeling. So many years of feeling less than, feeling unlovable, and here this gorgeous, intelligent, gentleman has pulled the rug out from under you. Tears start forming and his eyes soften as he caresses your cheek. You wrap your arms around him and pull him in for a deep kiss, ready for another round.

The meeting with Ms. Romanov was scheduled sooner than expected. Jonathan insisted you both be there and you were grateful that he was still treating you with such respect.

Some of the people in the department had noticed the moments of PDA between you two but would only ever smile and leave it be. Clearly they trusted the two of you to be professional and not let your relationship affect their own work. Syverson actually congratulated the two of you while saying it was about time.

As the two of you explain your situation, the reason for the meeting, to Ms. Romanov, she raises an eyebrow.

"Strange. I thought you'd be here to discuss Drysdale."

"May I ask why?" Jonathan started. "His behavior and professionalism has greatly improved the past few months."

"Yes, but I have reason to believe he's looking for other work," she responds.

"Are you allowed to disclose how you know?"

"Our department received a phone call asking if a Hugh Drysdale was a current employee of ours," she explains. "Legally all we have to do is confirm or deny the employment, but it's a standard phone call when an employer is investigating the background of a potential employee."

"I see," Jonathan frets. "And we are not to say anything to him or ask him about it, correct?"

"Correct," she affirms. "Now, back to the two of you." She turns to focus on you. "As Pine is your superior, you are going to be more my concern. My primary obligation in this company is avoiding law suits so, if at any point you feel he's abusing his power over you, report to me. If you feel you are being used, let me know. If he ever puts you under duress, you tell me."

"Of course," you nod. You hate to think of Jonathan doing any of those things but you know how relationships can change with time.

She turns to Jonathan. "At the same time, if you ever feel she's using you for your higher standing in the company, tell me. If she ever puts you under duress, talk to me. Abuse can go either way." Jonathan simply nods in acknowledgement.

"Now, I'll have some forms for the two of you to sign indicating that you're aware of the intraoffice relationship guidelines, and other formalities."

The rest of the meeting is spent with the paperwork. Occasionally you and Jonathan would exchange smiles, winks and giggles.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @peyton-warren;

@ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

Under the Liverpool Stars~Trent Alexander Arnold

It was a cool evening in Liverpool. The streetlights reflected off the wet pavement, creating a magical atmosphere. You were sitting in a cozy bar, lost in your thoughts, reading a book while sipping a warm cup of tea, when a deep, slightly hesitant voice pulled you from your reverie.

"Excuse me... is this seat taken?"

You looked up and found yourself face to face with Trent Alexander-Arnold. For a moment, you were taken aback, but quickly composed yourself.

"Oh, no, it's free. Please, go ahead."

He smiled, placed his coffee on the table, and sat down. He seemed relaxed, wearing a casual coat and a beanie that tried to hide his identity, but it didn't quite work. After a brief silence, he noticed your book.

"You're reading Pride and Prejudice? It's one of my sister's favorites. She always tells me I should read it, but I’ve never gotten around to it."

"Really? It’s a classic. Maybe you should listen to her, she has excellent taste."

He laughed, a warm, genuine sound that seemed to fill the space around you.

"You might convince me to read it... if you give me a good reason."

You tilted your head, studying him. "Well, if you like a good love story with sharp dialogue and complex characters, this is perfect. But what kind of books do you usually read?"

He scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "Honestly, I don’t read much. I spend most of my time training or playing. But I like stories that teach me something. Like biographies or self-help books."

The conversation flowed naturally, and Trent was curious, kind, and surprisingly humble. He didn’t talk much about football unless you brought it up, and he seemed more interested in learning about you—what you liked to do, your dreams, your hobbies.

After an hour, he said, "You know, I wasn’t expecting to have such a nice conversation tonight. It’s rare to meet someone to talk to so... authentically."

You smiled, a little shy. "It’s been nice for me too. It’s not every day you meet a... famous footballer in an ordinary bar."

He laughed again, but his tone grew more serious. "Listen, can I ask you something? Would you like to meet again? Maybe next time I could take you to a special place. Not just any bar."

Your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t sure what to expect from this meeting, but there was something about him that made you feel at ease.

"I’d like that."

---

Weeks passed, and you and Trent began to see each other regularly. He took you to beautiful spots around Liverpool, introduced you to some of his friends, and even brought you into his family circle, where they welcomed you warmly. One evening, as you walked along the Mersey, he stopped and looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"You know, since I met you, everything feels different. Football has always been my life, but with you... it’s like there’s more. Something bigger."

He took your hand, his touch warm against the cool breeze.

"I don’t know what you think, but I want to see where this takes us. I really want you to be part of my life."

Your heart melted. Looking into his eyes, you found nothing but sincerity and affection.

"I want that too, Trent. I want to be here, with you."

And so, under the stars of Liverpool, your love story began to take shape—a unique combination of two different worlds that had crossed paths by chance but were destined to intertwine.

[neverpathia]

well, not for lack of trying

here's Barbie-fied long quiet. jk that's the voice of the smitten

and lineart because I always

dude I don't even swing that way but handsome men are the most frequent thing I've been posting on this blog thus far. I need to do something about that.

now, as always, time to ramble about this little guy

well literally any post about happily ever after will give you a pretty clear picture of his mentality. Smitty is a simp. push him too far and he'll go either enabler or yandere on you.

one thing is clear, though.

this guy is fucking delusional.

he falls in love with a princess he barely even knows. (no shit, Sherlock!) he falls in love with, well literally any iteration of the princess, really. (wow. what laudable powers of deductive reasoning. I am awed beyond words.)

well a pretty obvious thing about slay the princess is that it's quite a desperate situation. the long quiet is stressed and needs to cope. so the voices form to help, or at least act like perfectly unhelpful defense mechanisms. and smitten is one of those very perfectly-unhelpful-defense-mechanisms.

the smitten is still inherently superficial. i forgot where, but I once heard someone say that smitten is the part of the long quiet that still intrinsically yearns to reunite with the shifting mound. that could be the case. either way, the smitten is certainly the voice that cares the most about the mound. he's the one that's most aligned with her desires, or at least he believes he is.

however, I feel like it's more general than that. the smitten, above all, is the desire for connection.

but unlike the broken, he doesn't exactly offer 'unconditional' devotion. of course he wants safety. (no shit they all want safety have you seen the stakes of their fucking circumstances lately?) and of course he wants some control over the situation.

but friendly reminder that the smitten is fucking delusional. he want it? he got it.

the smitten is blind devotion, yes, but to a beneficial cause. the princess more often than not proves more trustworthy than the narrator (not to mention she's clearly more physically attractive like damn look at those big doe eyes she's so cute come on what's not to love. unless she's a mass of razor blades or a faceless abomination but we'll get to those later.)

shady man versus pretty princess. when forced to pick a side, it's initially pretty obvious who seems like the better, more heroic choice. she tugs at your heartstrings. she's just adorable, of course you feel attracted to her. and of course you're going to perceive a greater implied benefit from assisting her, especially compared to shady-man's vague threats.

he wants safety. he wants control, not necessarily over the princess or anyone exactly, but especially over this stressful inescapable scenario he's in. he wants to be free. he wants to have a purpose. and the best source of it all still seems to be the princess herself.

because (the smitten is delusional) they're in love and she would never hurt him. because (the smitten is delusional) she only wants to make him happy.

no, the smitten is delusional due to what the idea of true love offers. (keep in mind: it's not like the broken's submission for the sake of safety. he's still trapped and he knows it, but to broken it's more like he's choosing torture over worse torture.)

the smitten seeks both protection and agency. love is the easiest escape. and this is why even when faced with, say, some terrifying hulking monstrous being that's only vaguely feminine, he tries at love. he clings to love. if he refuses to see anything else, then he can be safe and free and happy. if he's delusional then the reality beyond his little delusion doesn't need to exist. sound familiar? no, narrator, get the hell away.

the smitten requires the idea of love, the idea of affection, the idea of what true romantic connection is.

he's locked himself into believing this is the only way for him to get what he wants, even when all else doesn't align with this. he's locked himself into believing love is the only thing that will always matter and remain constant. because he is delusional.

because he needs to be delusional.

oh I love the little lovesick fucker and his fancy little words

now I don't think a lot of thought really went into his design. I just thought "oh he speaks like a Victorian writer and he's kind of a dandy" and went from there. honestly I kind of modelled him off a preexisting OC of mine and changed up the details and colour palette a bit. he kind of looks like a drag queen but if I'm going to be honest that's not a bad thing on him.

he and the broken are probably going to be the most feminine of my voices, and not just because they give themselves to love, which is always seen as a more 'feminine' concept. no, it's more like they're the voices that emotionally cling the most to the princess. just as they once were one, they yearn to be one again. even if it means casting aside what they were meant to be. even if it means giving themselves up for the sake of another. the long quiet is inherently masculine and it's everything the shifting mound is not. so the voices that most oppose the mound are going to be more masc, ceterus paribus. does that make sense?

also he was supposed to be the hottest voice

why is oppy still the hottest voice

[lalacliffthorne]

Hi, I love your modern batboys roommate fic so much. I am obsessed with Azriel and readers relationship and the way you write them. It’s my comfort fic that I always fun back to.

I know you don’t take request and I totally respect that, but I would be really curious what it would look like when Az and reader get into a fight (either a smaller fight like a disagreement or even a bigger fight). I’m really curious what it would look like since they live together, how they would react to being in a fight. And I’m curious what Rhys and Cassian’s reactions would be as well. But I feel like depending on the fight it wouldn’t last too long since they seem to be good at communicating and they love each other so much.

Sorry about the ramble, I’ve thought about this way too much. Anyways love your writing and your fics 🫶🏻🫶🏻

omg hi 🥹 thank u so much!! this means the world to me 💕

oohhhhh okay?? this is a really good question?! I already know I'm gonna go overboard with this lol

so for me, I feel like disagreements are rare. because honestly, you rarely disagree on anything in the first place. like, you are so attuned to each other and in synch, barely anything can throw that.

which means, the few disagreements that might occur are usually based on concern or something similiar. like azriel thinking you need a break and you being too stubborn, and vice versa. but those are usually solved easily, with azriel simply literally dragging you away from work and you talking some sense into him. communication is something the both of you know is important, and while az might not seem like he's big on talking, he's actually one of the few people that can get through to you when you're caught in your head, with simple, steady words. vice versa, you are one of the only people that can get through to him.

which means, actual fights are even more rare. like, so rare that the first time it happens, it throws not just you, but everyone.

it would definitely be about something that actually runs deep, bc anything superficial you either talk out or never actually becomes a problem. it would have to be something that makes azriel shut down and you so frustrated that you do too. again, I think it would be most likely something that stems from concern about the other.

the fight itself would shake you to your core. not because azriel would get loud or anything, he would never, not even in a serious argument, not even if you lost your temper on him. but bc usually, you manage to talk through everything.

but this time, instead, azriel shuts down. barely says anything at all, whole body tense and eyes stormy. it wouldn't be to punish you or anything; the literal only reason he would shut down on you like this would be him getting caught in his own head until he's not able to see how desperate you are, angry - until you shut down too.

and that is when the actual hard part begins. azriel is still caught in his head and distances himself without even noticing, and you pull back too, bc you're stuck in your own head.

which means suddenly, the whole flat is quiet.

rhys and cassian would notice immediately - and it would throw absolutely everything for them. bc let's be honest, azriel and you are the one constant these two can always rely on when they get home, knowing you are either in one of your rooms, your body curled into azriel's on the bed, messing around in the kitchen or sandwiched on the couch. you are the two people in their lives they know are like - fucking meant for each other.

so I definitely think it would have a massive effect on them. like suddenly rhys, who has problems sleeping in good times, barely sleeps at all. just loses all his focus; burns food and gets the simplest recipes wrong. he gets snappy, not even sarcastic or anything, just plain pissed, until it mounts into an absolutely massive argument with his dad. and cass, who we all know is basically sunshine incarnate, is just worried to his core. bc you're his family, and he can't lose that. so, gone is the constant grin and jokes, until all is left is a broody attitude and a deep frown.

I don't think either of them would ever pick sides, like - they love the both of you way too much for that and can probably guess that this argument is not really anyone's fault. having said that, I do think cass would probably gravitate towards you. bc - he is so protective of you on a good day, and he literally physically can't stand to see you so upset. it just absolutely breaks his heart, and he would want to do everything in his power to make sure you're not alone in this. like, he's the one who gets you to finally open your door, and who you break down on. he's the one who doesn't leave your side until he absolutely has to, who takes you wherever you need to go, sends everyone who just looks at you for too long scrambling with a simple dark glare. don't get me wrong, he'd leave you alone if you'd asked him, but he would probably fucking camp outside your door or something, just in case.

rhys on the other hand is there for you quietly. like coming into both of your rooms to bring you food and, in your case, sitting down on the floor until you've eaten something. pulling you out of the flat for a walk so you get some fresh air, just letting you lean into him. other than that, he just watches quietly.

until he's had enough. cause honestly - it's clear to anyone with the barest bit of common sense that both azriel and you are absolutely miserable. neither of you leaves their room. you don't get any sleep, bc how when azriel's not there, your thoughts are swallowing you whole, and you don't smile anymore. meanwhile, azriel stops talking altogether. both of you are yearning so incredibly hard for the other that whenever azriel just catches a whiff of your perfume, he has to fight the urge to barge into your room, simply held back by guilt, and you well up whenever you just catch a glimpse at his door.

I think rhys would probably just march into azriel's room and tell him to cut the crap. he would be so angry, like - "please, for god`s sake, stop being a fucking idiot, get out of your head and talk to your fucking girlfriend, you moron". and azriel would glare at him so hard - but rhys just glares the fuck back until azriel breaks.

he probably finds you in your room. it breaks his heart to see you curled up under your blanket, looking tired and pale and likely with red eyes from crying, and he suddenly absolutely wants to kick himself. you're not any better tho, the sight of him, hair a mess, dark shadows under his eyes and gaze dull causing your chest to squeeze.

you definitely talk it out, azriel starting, voice quiet, rough. it needs a good, honest conversation, about the reasoning why he shut down, why you did the same. you also promise there and that moment to never let it get that far again, to not speaking for days, bc honestly - you're just miserable without the other, and you barely handled it this time. you make a deal to give the other space when needed but never go to bed without talking it out - and you stick to that, for every future argument after.

when azriel finally pulls you into a hug so tight, your ribs ache, you just squeeze back, probably tearing up bc god, you missed him. and you missed his smile and his eyes and the way he always seems to be right behind you, and nothing feels right without him.

cass and rhys are so relieved when you walk into the kitchen together bit later, cass breaking into the widest grin ever and rhys immediately making you promise to him too to never let it get this far again, bc fuck that - the two of you are meant together and fighting is just shit. it makes you giggle wetly, azriel cracking the first grin in days, and both cass and rhys swear the world finally feels right again.

anyway, jfc, I'm sorry for this ramble 🙈 that totally got out of hand 😂

thank u so much for this again tho, this was really fun!! if there are other scenarios you've been thinking about, I'd love to hear them 💞