#just straight up gaslighting her a few times

[the-mighty-mittens]

"What was I thinking? Kris wasn't trying to hurt me... They were just making me stronger."

"If Kris tells me to do it... I can do things I could never do before.

As long as I... Just do what they say..."

[manicmanuscription]

Unapologetically Selfish

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, fluff, gaslighting(?) not proofread bc author is lazy

Word Count: 2334

Summary: When both of your jobs have your time with each other limited, Azriel makes the decision to keep you all to himself. Content to let his family think he'd finally lost his mind but an accidental meeting has the IC realizing Azriel truly does have a secret mate.

Cassian was…concerned, to say the least. 

He fully believed Azriel was loosing his god damned mind and with each passing day this assumption only worsened. 

It all started three years ago, Azriel becoming almost scarce from time to time. With no explanation other than vague answers. It didn’t happen a lot and Cassian respected his brother needed his space some time, it wasn’t unusual for the Spymaster to slink off in the shadows. But then after a year his disappearance’s become nearly constant. 

Cassian and Rhysand finally cornered their brother after they demanded he show up for a monthly family dinner, the whole inner circle was getting concerned and decided that the two Illyrians were the best equipped to deal with this. 

Azriel had blankly looked at his brothers a small furrow in his brow as he sat through their interrogation. He hadn’t even realized he had been gone that much to be frank. Just… after meeting you? He wanted to spend every second of the day by your side, the mating bond simply not enough for how deeply he felt for you. 

After realizing the worry he was causing his family he pursed his lips and quite reluctantly told his brothers that he had found his mate. 

The look on the High Lord and General of the Night Court was absolutely priceless, their mouths hanging open as a stunned expression took over their usually stoic faces. 

Not even five minutes later the whole family knew, everyone pestering him for information like when they would get to meet you, what your name was, what did you do, how did you meet, where have you been this entire time. 

“Wait!” Feyre said as Mor had opened another bottle of wine and started excitedly pouring everyone a glass. “Is that why you asked Rhysand for a few months off?” 

The whole Inner Circle froze at Azriel’s simple nod. They all knew the implications of what that meant and Cassian was the first to speak. “You had a mating ceremony and none of us knew?” His voice thick with emotion. 

Azriel struggled with his next words. His heart a lump in his throat. He was never a talkative male, especially not about his feelings. 

“I-“ 

The truth was he was an incredibly selfish bastard. Of course he wanted his family to meet you, you were the most radiant person he ever had the pleasure of breathing next to and that was precisely the problem. He wanted you all to himself. 

“I’m sorry.” He said clearing his throat. “Would you like to meet her?” The house erupted with enthusiastic yes’s as his words seemed to smooth over the transgression. 

Eight months after that conversation, and after 6 canceled dinners 2 rescheduled lunches and just a straight up no show for drinks, The Night Court decided Azriel was…delusional. 

Of course they came to this conclusion delicately and most definitely amongst themselves after long and heated conversations.

Once again Rhysand and Cassian were sent to talk with the elusive spymaster and why he would make up such a lie. 

Azriel just refused their nonsense once again. He had told them the truth and it was their fault they didn’t believe it. He had barely seen you these last couple months as you had been working on the Continent and he had other tasks assigned to him. He told his brothers this and they just gave each other a look, one he simply ignored. 

Soon…the teasing started. Once the Inner Circle realized Azriel was doubling down on his ‘delusions’ Cassian promptly started joking about the fake wife and mate Azriel had. A few offhand comments here and there that become more and more frequent, of course Nesta and the rest of their family told him to shut up, but for Cassian it came from a place of love. 

He had tried talking to his brother, tried helping him through this. Cassian’s mind spinning, he truly thought Azriel had finally cracked, that his dearest brother was so alone he had made up an imaginary mate just to prove something. 

So his teasing was his last ditch effort, the final playing card to hopefully get Azriel to just admit he lied, than Cassian would take him out for drinks and be his shoulder to cry on for whatever issue that was obviously going on. 

Except it didn’t work. Azriel just grew more and more distant, if he wasn’t working he was simply…elsewhere. The last time Azriel ever made an effort to be around his family was when he suddenly up and decided to move out of the House of Wind, throwing a small house party for a beautiful cottage he purchased along the coast. 

Rhysand had to force Azriel to come to family dinners, in which sometimes the Spymaster simply never showed up and when he did his mind seemed distant and detached. 

Everyone was getting increasingly worried, especially Cassian. Azriel was incredibly important to him and although Cassian would never admit this, he felt responsible for him. Sometimes his brother didn’t know how to take care of himself, especially emotionally and whenever that happened The General had always been there, happily helping him whenever he could, making sure his heart and mind were protected, fighting off Azriel’s demons when he couldn’t do it himself. 

And he had never seen his brother so…aloof, distant and he had never thought his mental health would have gotten so bad he had made up a mate. So finally, Cassian and Rhys decided it was time for an intervention. 

———

Azriel.. for the life of him could not wait for his brothers to get out of his house. 

He loved them dearly and he knew he had been acting stranger and stranger these last few years, he knew his family thought he was certifiably insane and that great Shadowsinger of the fearsome Night Court had finally snapped and of course he cared, he knew that his actions had his brothers spinning and Nesta’s newly revealed pregnancy didn’t help Cassian’s grey hairs, and he had tried countless times to explain to them that he wasn’t insane, that you were real and beautiful and had utterly and completely captured his heart. 

But without the proof, his brothers simply didn’t believe him. Azriel wanted you to meet his family, gods did he want you too. But his time with you was becoming more and more rare. 

If you weren’t on the Continent you were with Thesan and if you weren’t with Thesan you were with Helion, leading all sorts of medical discoveries he simply could not comprehend no matter how hard he tried, this new medical project you were taking on meant that he hadn’t seen you in months, his body and heart ached for you and he truly had never felt such longing in his life. His brother’s insisting that he was insane certainly wasn’t helping his heartache.  

“I…” Cassian swallowed. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore Az.” He whispered finally and Azriel truly felt the guilt he had been burying down hit him as if he had been struck at the look on his brother’s face. 

He opened his mouth to say something but ultimately couldn’t find the words as Cassian left his home office, his footsteps echoing the utter doom and gloom he felt not only at your disappearance but at the raging guilt he felt for putting everyone in this situation in the first place. 

“Please…Just talk to us Az-“ Rhys started but he put his hand up. “Just, Go..please, we can talk about this later.” Azriel pleaded and Rhysand must’ve seen the look on his face so he pursed his lips and followed the General out of his brother’s home. 

———

You couldn’t wait to get home not only to the house you’d built together but to your mate. Every fiber of your being ached for him, and it physically hurt to be away from him for so long. 

So finally you had announced to your team and your dearest friend Thesan you were taking a well deserved break and decided to surprise your mate. 

You desperately needed to see him, hold him, breathe him in. Your soul was raging for the distance to finally be closed and so you planned a surprise trip, so you shut off the bond to him, which had sent him into a wild panic but you soothed it temporarily saying you were busy and needed to focus. But really you knew you couldn’t hide the excitement at finally arriving home, your chest was alight with nerves as you opened the door to your house, your fingers nervously playing with your hair as you couldn’t stop the giddy smile from erupting across your face. 

This was space was yours. For the first time you had not just a house but a home, and a lot of your tension eased at finally stepping into the carefully curated space you and Azriel had created. You could smell him everywhere, and it insantly made your frayed nerves ease, your body already relaxing at just finally being home.

It had been six long months without touching him, seeing him, with only fleeting reassurance and love sent down the bond and you needed him. Now. 

You were so excited you didn’t see the tall and bulky Illyrian warrior standing in your hallway staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. You crashed into a hard wall of muscle in your haste to get to your mate and immediately pulled back. 

“Your…not Azriel.” You stated, looking him up and down with a small frown etched on your face, something primal recoiling at the thought of another male in your house.

“Neither are you?” The male stated his voice with a slight edge, eyes wary as he looked you up and down, as if you were a threat. His fingers twitching and you immediately pulled away from him noticing his dangerous expression. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here? I think the question is what the hell are you doing in my house.” You asked stepping another few paces away from him but still crossing your arms over your chest as you looked him up and down. He wore red siphons on his hands and his long brown hair had a few greys all tied together in a low bun. Cassian, then you assumed.

“Wait..I’m sorry what?” The male sputtered, his vicious stance immediately softening into one of shock. You didn’t notice the High Lord standing behind him with an equal look of surprise as their brains finally processed the information. Their brother hadn’t cracked, he had been telling the truth about all of it. The traveling, the courtship, that he was in fact married and mated. 

Shadows twisted in the corner before scurrying off down the hall and in just a few seconds you were being tugged into a warm chest and spun around as scarred hands possessively held your waist. You giggled at the touch, the bond in your chest thrummed with light as peace finally settled in your bones. Home you were finally home. He set you down and you leaned up pulling his face close to yours as you peppered him with kisses. Gods you had missed him so much. He smiled softly at your touch shadows almost completely engulfing you as they too missed you. 

“Hey, Hello? We’re still here.” Cassian snapped his fingers to get your attention and Azriel growled darkly at the intrusion. You had been gone for six months you were his not his family’s. It wasn’t just a want that made him grip you even tighter at the thought of his family taking away your time with their endless interrogation no, no it was a need that thrummed throughout the fiber of his being. He needed to mark you up and hold you close and worship every single inch of skin on your body. He needed to completely immerse himself into you. 

Rhysand must have seen the look on his face or heard something in his mind because he gently gripped Cassian’s shoulders. “If you neither of you show up to breakfast tomorrow we will hunt you down or simply show up here.” It was said in a playful tone but Azriel understood the threat behind it, he was going to have to finally introduce you whether he liked it or not and with a simple wave of agreement from Azriel the two males winnowed away and he pressed himself further against you. Breathing in your scent all his stress and worry melting away as he did. The bond had been pulled so taut with the distance it had ached with the worst pain possible. 

“I missed you.” You breathed out softly, he grunted in agreement. “Let me take you far away from here and show you how much I missed you.” He whispered as he pressed soft kisses down the side of your neck, you giggled and his heart beat faster at the noise. “You are not getting of that easy again Spymaster.” You spoke with another laugh. His hands tightened even further on your hips with frustration, one of them sliding up to tangle in your hair as he kissed you, his tongue sliding in your lips claiming your’s with a deep desire that settled in his bones. You’d leave again soon and now he’d have to share your limited time with someone else. He tugged at your bottom lip possessively at the thought and lifted you in his arms your legs straddling as his waist as he walked you to your bedroom to show you exactly how much you were his. 

————— 

The Inner Circle anxiously awaited The General and High Lord’s arrival, waiting on any news of Azriel’s mental health when they finally winnowed in. Shocked grins overtaking their expressions. There was a beat of silence before Cassian spoke up. “You’ll never guess what the actual fuck just happened.” 

[fanfic-obsessed]

Jason Drake

Ok I have one for you that I think is hilarious to think about.

As always expect no cannon here. 

It starts a month or two after Tim Drake, age 9, started to take pictures of Batman and Robin (Still Dick Grayson).  Tim very much wants a sibling, but has not gathered the courage to ask his parents.  

He is out, taking pictures, thinking about how he wants a sibling as his path crosses Jason Todd (six months homeless). Tim takes this as a sign and, over the course of about three weeks, lures Jason home (treating him much like a feral cat). Once Jason is safely in Drake Manor, Tim semi- forcibly (Jason is not against it per say, but is a little confused) adopts him.  

Tim’s hacking is good enough that he is able to get back dated adoption records, a news announcement, Two interviews with Jack and Janet Drake about adopting Jason (credited to a journalist who died a month later in a rogue attack) inserted into all the correct places, and got Jason enrolled in Gotham Academy with Tim (backdated the enrollment records too).  

They live together in Drake manor for four months before Tim’s parents get back. Tim straight up gaslights them. Without even flinching “What do you mean you don’t remember Jason?” and “Of course Jason has been here for years, here’s the interview you did” and “Adopting him was such good optics for the company”

And it works (By the by, Mrs. Mac fully supports Tim’s slow abduction and adoption of Jason and is pleased to lie to the Drake parents about it). 

Within two days Janet Drake is half convinced that Jack tricked her into adopting his illegitimate son.  They go to a gala and, due to elite Gothamite weirdness, no one is willing to admit they had never met the older Drake boy before, Jason playing along seamlessly.  By the time the Drakes leave again, Janet is congratulating herself on convincing Jack to take in his illegitimate child (who has impeccable grades, and apparently inherited her appreciation for literature) to accompany her son. Particularly since Jason was good enough to understand that Tim was the Drake industry heir. 

Jack tends to hyper focus on archaeology and lives in a near constant state of ‘That sounds fake, but I don’t know enough to dispute it’. Loves his family though. Janet accidentally convinces him that Jason must be his, never mind that Janet was his highschool sweetheart and the only person he had ever had sex with.  He is not stupid, but is used to being around his genius wife and son and not understanding how they reach their correct conclusions. So just goes with it. 

Both boys go out to watch/take pictures of/ stalk Batman and Robin.  A few years after Dick becomes Nightwing, Stephanie is adopted by Bruce and becomes Robin. Meanwhile two unknown vigilantes, BlueJay  and Ketu (named for the Hindu Winged Serpent that represent Karmic collections both good and bad) start to operate solely in Crime Alley and seem to make a game of evading the Bats and Birds.  

Jason and Tim Drake take a particular interest in bettering Crime Alley, creating outreach programs and hiring for Drake industries and education programs with their parents' bemused backing (When Jason is 16 and Tim is 14, Tim discovers that several of the board members had been embezzling funds and prove it. The resulting shakeup still leaves Janet and Jack in charge on paper, but their instructions are ‘do whatever Jason and Tim say’)

[zerocoded]

summary: when caleb appears at your front door on a random thursday night after faking his death for weeks, you can't help but want to punch him straight in the knees. luckyly for you, you do just that.

authors note: this beautiful drawing that i'm using in the banner is from this lovely artist, credits to them! go check their x account ♡ ANYWAYS, the caleb post i've been daydreaming about the last two days is finally here. CALEB GIRLIES I GOT YOU. let's hold each other's hands until the 22nd comes. i hope i succeed in portraying a real mc bc i'm tired of seeing us being just happy when seeing caleb for the first time when BRO DECEIVED US and played with our emotions like that. without further bs, live laugh love caleb.

warnings: SLIGHT yandere!caleb • gaslighting and manipulation • sfw content • bad writing lol, be warned! • depressive thoughts • reader is on her grieving period • work exhaustion • mental illness mentioned • minor injury • manhandling and pining • height & size difference • caleb literally invades our home • fighting bc reader is a badass and tolerates no bitches • mc bites caleb's hands lol • others LI mentioned • one kissy scene hehe • caleb screams at mc once (boo) • ANGST Y'ALL!

word count: 6.1k

you're here┃caleb uses you as hostage at the farspace fleet┃caleb teaches you his love language ( on going series )

your apartment was silent, except for the faint hum of the city outside. tossing your jacket onto the back of the couch, you leaned against the wall, exhaling shakily. the weight of the day pressed down on you like a vice, your fingers brushing the edge of the message from linkon city hall still lying unopened on the counter.

confirmation of deceased: caleb. adoptive grandmother, dr. josephine. cause of death: explosion – classified incident.

you hadn’t needed to open it. the words were already carved into your memory, and the weight of them had crushed you all day. it didn’t matter that the explosion was months ago—seeing their names on an official report felt like losing them all over again.

you pushed away from the counter, willing your mind to focus on anything else. the hunter uniform hugged your frame perfectly, as it always had, and your reflection in the glass windows of your living room showed how tired you looked.

did anyone notice how wrecked you felt? you wondered if tara had gossiped to the other hunters about your predicament, and if she had left you alone because she somehow understood the weight of what had happened to you.

the message was awful. being asked to confirm the deaths of your loved ones had thrown you into a depressive spiral you hadn’t felt in days after returning from the N109 zone. your troublesome heart sometimes made you feel like you shouldn’t have even been born. when you trauma-dumped this on rafayel a few days ago, he had almost hit you with his paint brush, the words coming out of your mouth too much for him to process. the painter was pissed that you could think of yourself like that.

but that was how you felt—unworthy of being alive, because the person who raised you had been brutally killed.

why not me? you wondered.

linkon city was adorned with shiny skyscrapers, and your privileged view of the city made you feel even smaller, your grievance nothing more than a joke to the world outside of your apartment. knowing you’d have to show up to work again tomorrow added to the weight pressing down on your shoulders from choosing to be a deepspace hunter.

these last few weeks, you had questioned why you chose this job in the first place. since coming back from onychinus and befriending sylus of all people, you’d been thinking about your life decisions more frequently. sylus made you question every little thing you had once thought was a virtue, which now seemed like selfishness in disguise.

the man was good at disturbing your thoughts and making you feel things that put you on the spot.

you became a deepspace hunter because you were selfish. you wanted to make a difference, like the people you grew up with had made.

you wanted to be smart like zayne and attentive like josephine. you wanted to be helpful like caleb and as notorious as your other anhaunsen classmates. you wanted to do anything to escape the feeling you’d had since birth—uselessness.

as you sank deep into the living room cushions and exhaled heavily into the lonely air of your apartment, your phone buzzed with a text from zayne.

fate was joking with you today.

are you okay?, it read.

his worry made your heart flutter a little before sadness took over your entire form again.

you didn’t have the heart to respond. lying required more strength than you had in that moment, so you tossed your phone onto the center table and ignored him.

i’m sorry, zayne, i wish i was stronger for you.

your stomach rumbled, and your ribs ached. earlier in the evening, you had let a wanderer get too close before killing it, distracted as you were. the mistake had left you with a swollen rib and a deep sense of shame. you’d promised to take care of it when you got home, but right now, all you could do was discard a few of your sharp weapons onto the floor before dozing off on the couch.

you’d probably hate yourself in the morning for sleeping with these tight boots on.

for you, the hardest part wasn’t the silence left behind. it wasn’t the way the world seemed to keep spinning while yours had shattered. the hardest part was feeling like you needed to smile, to nod politely when people said, “stay strong,” as if strength could stitch together the pieces of your broken heart.

the hardest part was the way people looked at you, expecting you to move forward, to let the memories be enough. but how could you, when the smell of smoke still haunted your nightmares, when you could still hear caleb’s laughter drowned by the deafening roar of the explosion? how could you heal when your soul was still bleeding, the wounds too fresh, the pain still pouring out with every breath you tried to take?

you loved him so much it hurt. you wish you’d told him more times. why didn’t you told him more times?

how could you move forward when you still couldn’t clench your fists as strong as you were accustomed to because you were thrown into the air and broke both of them at the incident?

you wondered if it would ever be enough, and if someday you’d find out who was responsible for all of this pain.

the kitchen candles were the only light in the room when you heard the doorbell ring. sharp and sudden, it cut through the haze and fought off your sleepiness in a second, your hunter’s bells ringing warningly.

your heart jumped, and your hand instinctively went to your side where your pistol usually rested, only to find it absent. you’d left it in your locker at the deepspace headquarters, thinking you wouldn’t need it tonight.

the bell rang again, more insistent this time.

“probably xavier,” you muttered, trying to shake off the lingering unease. your neighbor and cute colleague had been away on a special mission as a hunter. his absence had started to feel noticeable in the quiet moments.

you liked spending time with xavier because he seemed to understand you on another level. he never seemed to expect anything from you, which made grieving next to him a little less daunting. you missed his midnight visits and occasional talks about claw machines and stupid wanderers, and you wished he would respond to your texts asking when he was coming back.

you felt like it would be nice to hear his voice right now.

without thinking much, you unlocked the door, combat boots still on and dark circles framing your usually bright eyes.

“took you long enough—”

the words died on your lips.

it wasn’t xavier.

standing in your doorway, dressed in a pristine daa military uniform, was a man—ridiculously intimidating and strange. he looked at you with judgment and arrogance, making you step back a little and guard more of yourself.

thank god you still had your uniform on and wasn’t wearing some flimsy nightgown. the man seemed to be eating you alive in his head.

before you had the chance to question the stranger’s presence at your door on this random thursday night, he tossed you aside and pressed you against the corridor wall of your kitchen, your breath instantly hitched and your ribs ached from the impact.

your hunter’s awareness triggered instantly, instincts flaring and mind still trying to process what the hell was going on. your hands struggled against his grip, desperately searching for an evol to resonate with. if your mind had already been spiraling out of control before, now you felt like you could fight a thousand wanderers at once and focus on surviving with mere instinct.

you couldn’t scream. his right hand clamped over your mouth, his left gripping both your wrists in front of your chest and preventing you from punching him like you planned to. somehow, this was a professional individual who knew your fighting mannerisms and wrestling tendencies by heart.

with great effort, you managed to bite his hand that was closest to your mouth and heard his pained grunt right after. you swore you heard him cussing before his head raised and his eyes finally met yours.

your heart stopped. the world narrowed to the faint outline of his silhouette as you finally were able to look at his face. his hair was concealed beneath a presumptuous cap, the daa symbol shining bright at its center. black, red, and gold adorned the uniform of the unknown man who handled your body as if it were weightless, plastic.

you thrashed and twisted in his grip until he was forced to pin both your hands above your head, hissing when you managed to land a kick on his right knee. the door clicked shut beside you as he silenced your attempted scream with his hand again.

amethystine eyes stared back at you, thick brows furrowed as your gazes locked. chills ran down your spine. your hunter uniform pressed uncomfortably against the wall, your combat boots barely touching the floor. yet, despite your effort, he towered over you.

you wanted to cry.

the hidden freckles were the first clue your mind was playing tricks on you, the shape of his mouth the second, and his skin tone the third. countless times since the explosion, you’d dreamed of caleb’s touch—more nights than you could count. but as the weight of the day bore down on you, your fighting spirit waned, the initial rush of adrenaline fading as you stared into his eyes.

everything felt cruelly unfair.

his gaze was uncharacteristically hard as he watched you, his bruising grip on your mouth and wrists warming for a moment before you snapped out of your daze.

a smirk made way to his lips and his stupidly manly perfume set itself on your senses. another attempt at kicking him made him press himself further into you, ribs screaming from the pressure. if he noticed your pained expression, he didn’t mention it at all.

“caleb,” you whispered, the name barely audible. your voice cracked, your body frozen in place, your mind unable to reconcile the impossible reality before you.

he didn’t seem to hear you, but his hand left your mouth, his gaze sweeping over your body and his face so close to yours you could count his naturally defined lashes.

the tension between you two shifted as he eyed you closer, curious eyes landing on your pretty figure. he could swear for a moment you wouldn’t recognize him and that thought perturbed his mind for the next few seconds he allowed himself to bask in your beauty.

caleb was familiar with the sight of you in the hunter’s association uniform, but never had he seen you looking this wrecked.

in the weeks leading up to the explosion, he’d promised himself he’d never let you get hurt by ever ever again. now, seeing you like this, he wondered if things looked different from your perspective.

would you hate him?

would you hate him for the decisions he made? for the people he deceived and the families he destroyed? for the secrets he exposed so he could be at advantage and fight for you from a more privileged position?

would you hate him for wanting you all to himself and sharing the same fate as him as a human experiment? for wanting to take you to the ever base and expose you to everyone right before killing them? for being the demise of your life but still wanting to keep you as close as possible?

would you still love him after he told you all of the wrongings he did to make things right for you and him?, he wondered.

the look in your eyes told him no, and because of that, his grip on your pinned hands loosened, the silence between you two remaining charged with tension. he saw the exact moment reality crashed down on you. your gaze faltered, and for a moment, you looked like you were going to cry.

he would hate to see you cry because of him, even though deep down he knew how lovely you looked while pouring your eyes out. he have seen it a thousand times before. caleb wanted to make you cry in other circumstances, not right now.

his lips pressed into a forced smile, and your breath hitched as his eyes shone faintly in the dim light of the kitchen candles. though the light wasn’t very effective, the touch of his gloved hand was enough to confirm the truth: this wasn’t a fucking stranger.

caleb felt when you stopped fighting and caved into his touch, scared to death. he let go of your mouth and stared right at your lips.

“no,” you muttered, shaking your head as if to clear a hallucination. your hands remained bound, your feet still searching for the floor. “this can’t be true.”

he tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “it’s me.” his voice was calm, too familiar, too real. too cruel.

your body trembled with his tone, his breath fanning on your cheeks while your eyes scanned his. it felt wrong to say anything at the moment, fear still there in your eyes.

your body snapped into action, reality slamming into you like a tidal wave. you raised your knee, aiming to knock him off balance, desperate to banish the ghost standing in your kitchen.

but the colonel moved faster.

his hand shot out, catching your leg with unnerving precision. before you could react, he hoisted you over his shoulder effortlessly.

you stumbled, panic surging through your veins. your instincts screamed at you to fight, to move, to do something.

“let me go” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and fury, punching his back in a futile attempt to stop him. “who are you? who sent you?”

“i came to see you,” he said simply, his voice steady and unnervingly calm. his eyes darted around the apartment, scanning every corner like a predator assessing its prey. “you didn’t think i’d stay away forever, did you?”

why did he sound so smug and heartless? it pissed you off.

realization set heavy on your shoulders—did he... did he fake his own death?

“you’re a fucking asshole.” you didn’t care that this man was more than six feet tall or that he wore a military uniform of all things, you kicked and screamed as much as you could after he threw you onto the couch—the very place you’d landed earlier that evening.

the moment he released you, you inched toward the center table where your spare weapon was stashed.

caleb’s smile faltered, replaced by something darker. his voice dropped, softer but laced with unsettling intensity. “i hope you cooperate from now on, pipsqueak.”

the words sent a chill down your spine.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you spat, pistol in hand, ready to aim.

his gaze flicked to your movement, and before you could react, he was there. his hand closed around your wrist, pinning it to the couch with a force that made you gasp.

“you’re not going to hurt me, pipsqueak,” he murmured, his tone almost teasing, though the intensity in his purple eyes told a different story. “i’d never hurt you. you know that.”

you struggled against his grip, your heart pounding as fear twisted into anger. “let me go, caleb.”

“not until you listen,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “will you stop fighting and thrashing around? i need to see if you are ready”

“ready for what?” you spat, your voice trembling with rage.

“for us,” he said simply, his tone calm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

your breath hitched as his words sank in, the weight of them pressing down on you like a storm. “what the hell is ‘us’? you died. i watched you fucking die, asshole.”

he leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours, his voice a low whisper. “and i came back—for you.”

the weight of his presence, his words, was suffocating. for a moment, you froze, your mind racing for a way out.

it sounded so intimate, so romantically unsettling having him above you and saying things that made your heart clench. you hoped the hurt in your eyes was visible to the man. you hoped he still had sympathy and felt guilt somewhere underneath that uniform.

caleb stepped back, releasing your wrist but still blocking your path, his expression softening slightly as he examined you. “i need you to be quiet until i can tell you everything.”

“who do you think you are? you filthy liar”. 

caleb’s gaze flickered as your words hung between you, unspoken accusations slicing through the air like shards of glass. he shifted his weight, his broad frame now more a shadow than a presence in the dim room. for a moment, it seemed like he might say something—anything—but instead, he exhaled, a quiet sound that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"you look as pretty as always, princess", his whisper reached your ears and you felt a wave of anger wash over you.

"i don't know what you did to caleb, but right now is not the time for games". you spat the words with disgust.

"you think you know anything?" he asked, voice low but steady. his eyes, catching the faint glow of the candlelight, held yours. he looked scary above you. 

"you think that you are right?," you bit back, the ache in your ribs forgotten under the pressure of the moment. "faking a death isn’t something i take lightly in my books”.

his jaw tightened, the faintest tremor in his hand betraying him as he sighed. the silence stretched again, taut and heavy, before he finally spoke. “trust me to take care of you as i always did, pipsqueak, i just need more cooperation from you this time. i needed to do that so I could've gotten rid of josephine”.

the vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, stealing whatever biting retort was forming on your tongue. you searched his face, the faint scars etched into his skin, the weariness in his eyes. "what the fuck did you just say?" you said softly, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. 

caleb’s expression shifted as he saw the tense tone of your voice, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. regret? anger? it was gone too fast to tell. "i said what i said," he replied, his tone measured, almost calm—too calm. "josephine was a threat. she had to go, and i handled it and you should put this in your mind and move on."

"you handled it?" the words came out as a growl. the disbelief, the rage, the grief—it all boiled over. "you’re talking about the woman who raised me, caleb. who raised you. and you expect me to just—what—trust that you had your reasons? that it’s fine because you handled it?"

you got up from the sofa and watched him tower over you once again, not being afraid to fight him out of your house this time. you took a step further and watched the surprise on his face mix with a hint of mischief.

"you must have lost your mind, who the fuck sent you here? answer me." you asked, your voice sharper now, frustration spilling over.

he stepped closer, the shadow he cast stretching long across the dim room. his voice dropped, soft but firm, the kind of tone that brooked no argument. "the sooner you accept the truth, the easier all of this will turn out for you. josephine was a loose thread that could put you at harm and, trust me, i won’t let anything or anyone put you at risk."

"shut up," you snapped, your hands shaking as they clenched into fists. "don’t you dare put this on her. don’t you dare tell me you did this for me." you pushed him with force until he stumbled back a little, eyes on you the entire time. still, he didn’t react. so you pushed yourself past him, pacing to the other side of the room as if distance could lessen the fury building inside you. "you’re out of your fucking mind if you think i’m going anywhere with you. you—i… i mourned you, caleb".

caleb turned, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze locking onto yours. "you don’t have a choice," he said simply. "if you want a chance of surviving, you’ll accompany me to the farspace fleet so you can prove to me that you are not a threat, this isn’t a quest, Y/N.”

"stop acting like you’re my savior," you shouted, spinning to face him. "you lied to me, faked your death, and now you show up here, in my home, telling me what to do? you’ve lost the right to give me orders, caleb. i don’t have to prove you shit"

his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, something like frustration flashed across his face. "you’re impossible," he muttered, more to himself than to you. “don’t make me take you by force, princess, this is already hard enough for me”.

his presence felt heavier now, more intimidating and more overwhelming. “hear me out on this one, pipsqueak, i can see why you’re upset but here it’s not the right place to talk about this. i promise i’ll explain it later”.

caleb’s gaze didn’t waver, feelings too strong for him to back down.

“you think i trust you wholeheartedly as well? don’t you think i know about what you’re capable to do, what weapon they made you become?”, he questioned, raising more questions about your past to the surface.

you hesitated, your chest heaving as you glared at him, every instinct screaming at you to fight, to run, to do anything but listen.

“you think i don’t know what you’re capable of? you’ve got every right to hate me, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re in danger and i’m the only one who can keep you alive.”

he stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the tiled kitchen floor, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with your unease. the space between you vanished with every deliberate step he took, and before you realized it, the cool edge of the counter pressed against your back.

“i came here to get you so i can protect you,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tender, though his eyes burned with something far less kind. “won’t you trust me, pipsqueak?”

you swallowed hard, your ribs aching as the tension tightened around you like a vice. the pain flared again on your right side, but you forced it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing your weakness. caleb’s arms came up, caging you between them, his palms braced on the counter on either side of you. his breath was warm against your skin, the faint scent of mossy perfume and something metallic clinging to him.

his amethystine eyes locked onto yours, drawing you in and daring you to look away. “josephine wasn’t innocent,” he murmured, the words deliberate, each one cutting deeper than the last. “she was the only way left they could get to you easily. so i had to get rid of her.”

the shock and fury bubbling in your chest clawed their way to the surface, but before you could lash out, he moved. slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands, his movements calm but weighted with unspoken meaning. his right hand hovered between your bodies as he tugged off his glove, revealing cold, gleaming metal where flesh once was.

your breath hitched, your eyes widening despite yourself. the intricate machinery of his prosthetic glinted dully in the dim light, a jarring contrast to the warmth of his other hand still braced beside you.

“i didn’t get out of there without paying a price,” he continued, his tone dipping lower, the faintest hint of bitterness creeping into his words. “if that makes you feel better.”

the sight of the metal, the weight of his confession, sent your mind reeling. you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the fury that kept you standing, but the cracks in his armor—the familiar of his voice, the faint tremor in his hand—made it harder to breathe.

“turns out i gave them everything they wanted to have even more control over my body,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, studying your reaction like a predator watching prey. “you’re not the only ever victim in this room, princess, don't you see?”

his words hit like a punch to the gut, the nickname twisting something deep inside you. your eyes burned, the sting of unshed tears making your vision blur. compassion clawed its way forward, fighting against the iron grip of your fury.

he leaned closer, his voice softening, wrapping around you like a velvet noose. “don’t you see now? i’m your only way out. only i can make you safe, princess.” his head tilted slightly, his gaze piercing through the layers of anger and fear you’d built around yourself. “why don’t you see it?”

the way he said it—like it was inevitable, like you were foolish for resisting—sent a fresh wave of defiance coursing through you. your fingers twitched at your sides, curling into fists. the tears threatening to spill were not ones of submission but of frustration, of fury that he could twist your pain and vulnerability into leverage.

your hands trembled as you shoved against his chest, trying to create even an inch of space between you. “you’re the danger here, caleb.”

his expression hardened, though the faintest flicker of something else—hurt? regret?—crossed his features. he caught your wrists before you could push him further, his grip firm but not painful, his proximity suffocating.

“i won’t let you go this time,” he said, his voice quieter now, the sharp edge replaced with something closer to desperation. his eyes seemed to ignore every red signal your body emitted. “what are you afraid of, pipsqueak? c'mon, it’s me, caleb”.

the charged silence that followed was unbearable, the tension between you a living, breathing thing. the weight of his words, the intensity in his gaze—it all felt too much, too close, and yet not close enough.

“answer me.”, he demanded, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. “you need me, Y/N.”

you wanted to scream, to shove him back, to wipe that look of control and simmering frustration off his face, but the words stuck in your throat. it wasn’t fear keeping you quiet—it was the truth you didn’t want to admit. the truth you couldn’t admit.

“you don’t get to do this,” you managed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “you don’t get to leave me, fake your death, and then come back like nothing happened. like i’m supposed to just—just fall in line and listen to you.”

his lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. instead, he exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as his grip on your wrists loosened ever so slightly. “i didn’t come back for you to listen,” he said, his tone soft but laced with an edge of frustration. “i came back to make sure you survive. with me.”

“you are crazy” you spat, shaking your head as you finally yanked your hands free from his grasp. “i don't know why you changed so much. you call this survival? being hunted, manipulated, dragged into whatever mess you’ve made? that’s not survival, caleb. that’s hell.”

“didn’t you want answers?!” he snaps, his voice cutting through the charged silence like a whip. his tone is sharp, frustration crackling in the air between you. for a moment, you flinched at his tone. “answers about your past, about granny, about the aether core that lives inside of you?”. he motions for your chest and you lean away from him.

caleb throws his daa hat on the floor and runs his gloved hand over his hair, desperation clinging into his actions. a move you were so used to seeing him doing as a teenager now seemed to paint his figure as someone totally different.

“guess what,” he continues, stepping closer, his boots scraping against the floor as the small space between you shrinks to nothing. “i’m the only one who can give you that.”

your back hits the counter again, the cold surface biting through your shirt as his presence looms over you. his hands grip the edge of the counter on either side of you, boxing you in, and his voice drops lower, quieter, but no less intense. “i know you’ve been looking for the truth. don’t pretend you haven’t. every decision you’ve made, every risk you’ve taken, it’s all been for answers.”

the weight of his words pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, as if the walls of the apartment were closing in. his voice, low and deliberate, carried the kind of certainty that felt like a blade against your resolve. you hated that he knew so much, hated the way his presence seemed to draw out every buried question, every lingering doubt you’d tried so hard to silence.

the truth of it stung more than you wanted to admit. because it was true—wasn’t it? every decision, every desperate move you’d made since josephine’s death had been about finding the missing pieces. about understanding why your life felt like a jigsaw puzzle with crucial parts deliberately torn away.

you grew up with people like zayne and caleb so you’d become the best version of yourself. still, you felt unworthy of everything you have ever achieved.

you were... at a loss of words.

your ribs screamed in pain against the counter, the cold seeping through your shirt and grounding you in the moment. you wanted to push him away, to snap back with something that would shatter the arrogance in his voice. but instead, you found yourself staring at him—really staring—seeing the desperation etched into every line of his face. it wasn’t just his words that rattled you; it was the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of something far greater than just your shared past.

you noticed the tremor in his hand, the way it lingered too long on the counter’s edge, as if he were holding himself back from reaching for you. the way his eyes, though sharp and unrelenting, flickered with something almost... pleading.

caleb seemed to be holding himself back—as he always did. this time, though, you were not sure if you wanted him to break and consume you or to let you go and forget the two of you. this was the first time in your life where you felt close enough to the truth, close enough to calm the storm of questions in your mind. still, your grip on your ego seemed to be as tight as ever.

everything felt unfair because you were oh so tired. since onychinus, sylus and the aether core, your mind has been settled into finding answers of questions that were never asked in the first place. you were running in circles and you dreamed every night about how you missed caleb. how you knew he would guide you into the right path if he was alive at the moment.

now that he was here, something felt uncharacteristically right for the first time in weeks.

you need me, he said.

it was a bold statement, a manipulative one, but the worst part was the whisper of doubt it planted in your mind. what if he’s right? what if caleb, with all his possessive behavior, really did have the answers you’d been chasing? could you afford to ignore him—risk losing whatever truth he claimed to hold—just because you didn’t trust him right now? just because his posture changed and his eyes seemed a little darker?

had you the privilege of saying no to him?

you have always been so weak for him, haven't you?

your gaze dropped to his gloved hand, still gripping the counter, then to the hat he’d thrown carelessly onto the floor. there was something raw about the gesture, something that pulled at a part of you you’d long thought buried. it was the same caleb you remembered, the one who’d run his hands through his hair in frustration when things didn’t go his way, but now there was a hardness to him, an edge that made him almost unrecognizable.

he leaned in slightly, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. caleb’s hands cradled your face with an unsettling gentleness, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to memorize every inch of your skin. his breath, warm and steady, fanned over your face, and the proximity made your pulse race despite every instinct screaming at you to pull away.

“do as i say, princess,” he murmured, his voice a mix of honeyed persuasion and steel. “you know deep down that i’m right.”

you hated how easily he saw through you, how his words made your chest tighten with the weight of unspoken truths. but there was a flicker of something else now—a sliver of curiosity, of reluctant consideration.

you stayed in silence.

“you’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the words were meant for no one but you. “what are you afraid of, princess? me?”.

his breath fanned over your cheek, the tension between you felt alive, electric, as if the air itself buzzed with anticipation. caleb’s hands cradled your face with a deliberate slowness, his fingers grazing your jawline like he was afraid you’d shatter under his touch. his thumbs traced lazy circles just below your cheekbones, sending faint shivers rippling down your spine.

caleb was very meticulous about the way he touched you. his words—carved in desperation just for you. he brushed away the tears you were shedding, breath in synch with yours as if he wanted for you to share your burden with him.

his thumb brushed against your skin, warm and steady, the faintest hint of mint and wood lingering in the space between you. the closeness made your pulse quicken, the steady rhythm in your chest now erratic and impossible to ignore. his forehead almost touched yours, his lips dangerously close but not quite there, as if he were savoring the moment, drawing it out until the anticipation was unbearable.

you gripped his forearms, confused at the needy feeling clawing its way out of your chest, the longing for closeness and safety that your brain always seemed to tie with the body in front of you. the tenderness he reserved only for you made your heart flutter despite the cruel truths and harsh words that had passed between you.

“what are you afraid of, princess?” he murmured again, his voice impossibly soft, like a velvet thread weaving its way into your thoughts. “it’s just me.”

the way he said it—low and intimate, like he was speaking to the deepest parts of you—made your knees weak.

his metal hand slid down from your face, the cool pads of his fingers brushing over the curve of your neck and coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. the weight was grounding, steadying, but it also sent sparks racing across your skin. the meaning behind his touch was at odds with the coldness of his prosthetic; it felt like both a tether and a promise.

you wondered if he was using his evol against you, manipulating your emotions, or if it was just your stupid, traitorous heart making you feel like you were floating.

your breaths came shallow and uneven as the tension between you thickened, palpable and inescapable. his gaze flickered to your lips, the intensity in his eyes making your stomach twist with anticipation. you hated how much you noticed the way he leaned closer, the way his presence filled every inch of the space around you, until there was nothing left but him.

“you don’t have to be scared of me,” he said softly, his lips brushing the words into the air between you. “i’d never hurt you.”

the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think of a reason to stop him, he closed the distance.

his lips pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. the kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide, waiting to see if you would break the moment or lean into it. and for a heartbeat, you froze, the shock of it rooting you in place.

but the tenderness of his kiss, the way his hand tightened slightly on your shoulder as if to steady himself, drew you in. your fingers curled into his forearms, no longer in protest but in something closer to surrender, the heat of his closeness chasing away the cold air of the room. you felt something stir deep inside you when you felt the dips of his muscles underneath his uniform.

when did he became so big?

the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a mix of urgency and restraint, as though he were holding back a tidal wave of emotion. you felt the shift in him—the desperation, the longing he’d tried to bury under layers of control. it poured out now, raw and unguarded, and it pulled something equally raw from within you.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven. his hands stayed where they were, steadying you as much as himself, and for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any words could.

“just me,” he whispered again, his voice breaking slightly, as if he needed you to believe it as much as he did.

I JUST POSTED PART TWO OF THIS, go check it out!

author’s note: want to cry more while reading? listen to remember me by d4vd and tell me that this song doesn't describe mc and caleb perfectly. SORRY FOR THE POOR ENDING, i'll make a part two of this post soon, follow me to get updated when i post or just check my masterpost from time to time :) send me a request • my masterpost

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑

welcome to the table of contents for my two-thousand followers special !

i am actually shocked that i reached this milestone, considering my writing managed to convince people to follow me even though i have not been active on this account. you all bolstered me to 2k through two hiatus' that i did not announce, and that i do sincerely apologize for. the next time i plan to disappear off the face of tumblr, i'll give you guys a heads up: no more ghosting :) but seriously, thank you guys for the never ending support, and i will make sure i return the gratitude by being more present on tumblr, and writing more often!

as previously requested and mentioned, this special event is the daniel ricciardo edition. i believe a majority of you wanted a part-two of the overstimulation with daniel ricciardo / max verstappen x black!reader from my f1 kinktober series, which will be included in this special. i also promised a few dr3 fics to some of you that requested--so all in all, all of the daniel ricciardo thirst that YOU ALL requested is listed below the cut. i hope this is enough of a peace offering, and i hope you all enjoy xxx

if you would like to be added to this special's taglist, send me an ask or leave a reply. all episode upload times are at 12 PM EST on their release date. posts tagged as # httpss :// 2k special. all works can be found in my table of contents (m.list).

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: it's his one-man show. you ask for danny ric, and he will always over-deliver. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: daniel ricciardo x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: assorted oneshots.

view playlist? ↴

Pilot: Over-Stimulation Kink w/ Daniel Ricciardo & Max Verstappen

You can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. You understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you...pleasurably. And then winter break comes around, and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind.

Episode Two: Say, "Cheese!" | facial | 5/31/24

The day she gets her braces off will be the best day of her life. Maybe all the years she dealt with insults, underhanded compliments, and men who wouldn’t date her because of them, would be worth it when she sees her perfectly straight teeth. Of course, it sucks that she has insecurities stemming from her braces; her boyfriend, Daniel, says that they “add to her beauty.” If she believed him, she probably wouldn’t hide her mouth behind her hand when she grins or laughs. Don’t worry—Daniel has an idea of how to make that smile of hers…shine.

requested! insecure!reader. soft!dom daniel. oral sex (male receiving). serene's fave.

Episode Three: Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss | fake orgasm | 6/5/24

When Daniel isn’t feeling well, it’s no hardship for her to take of him. Except this time, he broke his hand and is proceeding to be an absolute nightmare to take care of. They haven’t had sex since before the accident in Zandvoort because she’s afraid that somehow she’ll end up aggravating his injury. Daniel, however, has convinced himself that he only exists to bring her pleasure. So, she comes up with a plan to soothe his service dom tendencies. Enter, Operation Fake Orgasm. How hard can it be? Spoiler alert: she’s a terrible actress.

requested! servicedom!daniel. vaginal sex. hurt/comfort. attempt at humor.

Episode Four: Tomorrow 2 | body worship | 6/7/24

She’s the least favorite Formula One WAG. At first, she was optimistic, the fans would eventually start liking her—but that was a pretty naive thought. She’s constantly compared to Daniel’s ex-girlfriend—she’s not as pretty as her, she’s not as supportive as her, etc. Unfortunately, in a moment of low self-esteem—she breaks and thinks maybe the fans are right. Daniel comes home and sees you gathering every belonging of yours that’s migrated to his apartment like you’re breaking up with him. He tries to change your mind with his words, but that doesn’t quite reassure you completely; so he has no choice but to do it with his actions, too.

requested! insecure!reader. light angst. multiple orgasms. manhandling.

Episode Five: TSA | soft yandere | 6/13/24

She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes she never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of one) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of.

requested! possessive!reader. mild angst. happy ending. morally grey.

Finale: K.O. ! | over-stimulation | 6/25/24

Okay, Daniel may have won the first round. He cleared her dry spell with no problem and used Max to do it, too. That’s completely fine, she will never complain about experiencing some of the best orgasms of her life. But, Max (the man unable to not have the last word) coerces her into giving Daniel a taste of his own medicine.  As soon as they can manage to walk on two feet, without a wobble. Mark their fucking words. 

requested! part-two of the pilot fic. multiple orgasms. polyamory. bondage.

current taglist:  @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @lh383 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff @namgification @gg-trini @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @multi-fandom-rando @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris @xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld @hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari @vetteltea @dark-night-sky-99 @svinzlec @angelfreckless

© httpsserene2024

[tighnarisfavourite]

❀ poison in my mind, dreaming ‘bout you. ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tighnari x fem!reader

tighnari has been feeling poisoned lately, poisoned by you. experiencing feelings he had never felt before.

word count : 1113

❀ It felt like the most intoxicating feeling in the world as if he had been poisoned by those pesky fungi—poison flowing throughout him, washing over him completely. Tighnari’s emotions became more and more unstable, day by day, feeling himself weaken.

His pulse quickened, those sickening feelings he was trying to keep hidden within him rising to the surface every time he saw you, even his ears betraying him as they always stood up straight to the sight of you.

It was like an endless fever, one that didn’t pass with rest and medication. But it was frequently there when you were with him. A rosy color always seemed to creep up to his cheeks, increasing his body temperature.

Don’t even get him started on when you would put your hand up to his forehead to feel it, feeling the heat he managed to achieve in his face from you. Whenever you would ask, “Are you feeling unwell, Tighnari? It seems as if you have a fever... we should probably head back to Gandharva Ville so you can get some rest.” But he always brushed it off, shaking his head in addition to your concern, saying that he’s fine.

Health-wise, yes, he was fine... but emotionally? Oh, he was utterly smitten with you, even if he tried to play it off and gaslight himself into thinking he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed today and that’s why he’s feeling a bit strange but obviously, that was not true.

But can you blame him for thinking like that? He was knowledgeable about many things, but something as simple as love and affection was completely foreign to him. This was a new experience for him!

Even if he was so unknowing about love, you definitely were not. Seeing the way his personality changes from his usual one that’s an embodiment of sarcasm to being flustered and even tripping over his words? Now, that was unlikely of him...

So, you purposefully teased him, to gain reactions from him and to see if your suspicions are indeed right. It could go from you simply letting your gaze linger on him for a few seconds too long, brushing your shoulder against his as the two of you walked side by side, or letting your eyes fall to his lips.

And just as you thought, he always had a strong reaction to something you did, confirming your suspicions. Though, you liked him just as much as he liked you. His mind was poisoned with the thoughts of you while your dreams were filled with just him. Nothing else but him.

But your acts didn’t go unseen... at least not by Collei. She was honestly getting tired from seeing the two of you always pining each other but not one of you daring to make a move on the other. So, she had to make a plan. Push the two of you into a close contact situation.

Well... that’s how you ended up in this situation. Collei had purposefully forgotten to tell you to bring a tent to this little camping trip she planned, being all like “I’m so sorry, [name]! I ended up forgetting because of how excited I was about it! I would let you sleep in mine... but it’s too small for the both of us.”

You just ended up saying it’s okay, not wanting the poor girl to lose her marbles because she had somehow “forgotten” to tell you to bring a tent with you. “It’s fine, Collei. [name] can sleep with me in mine tonight, it’s not big but it can fit two people in it.” Tighnari had spoken up.

Now, you didn’t really expect him to be so willing to let you sleep with him tonight in his tent but... who were you to decline his invitation? After all, it’s a much better choice than sleeping outside where you could potentially get hurt. “Alright then, sorry again for causing trouble.” Collei apologized once again.

You put out the fire, exchanging a quick goodnight with Collei before she scurried off into her tent and so did you into Tighnari’s tent. He had already laid down the sleeping pad, the quilt on top. “I should’ve probably used my common sense and brought a tent with me, even if Collei didn’t mention it. Sorry about this.” You gave him a small smile as he dismissively waved his hand.

“Well, I certainly won’t deny that. It is a camping trip, after all, tents are expected to be brought even if the host doesn’t mention to bring one.” He replied before shaking his head. “But it’s fine, don’t beat yourself up over it too much. Come on.”

You and Tighnari laid down on the sleeping pad, covering yourselves with the quilt. The sleeping setup certainly wasn’t meant for two people, it had just enough space for one person but you had to make do, even if that meant your bodies pressed against each other.

Your cheeks had no doubt flushed with the close contact between the two of you, how could they not? You were sharing a bed with the man you’ve been crushing on for quite some time now...

You got caught off guard when you felt something fluffy wrap against your waist... it was Tighnari’s tail— you turned around, feeling his breath right on your face. It seemed as if he’d already fallen asleep... his eyes were tightly shut.

A smile couldn’t help but form itself on your lips as you looked at his face, his expression so blank yet... a calmness radiated off of it. Well— you thought he was asleep until you noticed one of his eyes opening. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh— I... didn’t mean to stare—” You were about to turn around once again before he stopped you, with his arm wrapping around you, pulling you close to him— letting your head lay against his chest. “Stay close to me, the night is cold. I don’t want you getting sick.” His voice had changed into a soft whisper, just loud enough for it to reach your ears.

Well... you hadn’t expected this from him, but... you weren’t going to decline his sudden affection. It was comforting and warm in his embrace, you felt safe in it even if your heart was thumping against your chest so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of your body.

“Get some sleep, [name]. I’ll keep you safe throughout the night.” Those are the last words you heard from him before your eyes became heavy, your ears blocking out every other sound as you succumbed to sleep.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

[uncannyencore]

what type of bitch every creepypasta is💀

What type of bitch every creepypastas is💀😭

Jeff the killer - the type of bitch who will act like he’s cool but is suddenly scared when you pull out a lighter.

Slenderman - the type of bitch who acts like a mom

Ben drowned - the type of bitch who purposely annoys everyone

Sally - the type of bitch who pretends to be innocent but she’s really a little trouble maker

Puppeteer - the type of bitch who will manipulate you and than gaslight you.

Eyeless Jack - the type of bitch who would use you as a dummy for medical practice lmao

Jason the Toymaker - the type of bitch who hoards all of his belongings 

Laughing Jack - the type of bitch who makes really shitty jokes that only a few think are actually funny

Laughing Jill - the type of bitch who gives off horse girl vibes.

Nathan the nobody - the type of bitch that has way to bad anger issues

Nina the killer - the type of bitch that acts like a pick me.

Lazari - the type of bitch you would have to push off a building just to get her to move

Jane the killer - the type of bitch who makes every argument about Jeff

Ticci-Toby - the type of bitch who will cause an accident and then say “wasn’t me.” Then blame it on one of his close friends.

Masky - the type of bitch who needs to chill tf out on smoking and alcohol 

Hoodie - the type of bitch who seems really straight but he’s really gay with Masky.

Candy Pop - the type of bitch that has mood swings worse than a woman on her period.

Vine the DollMaker - the type of bitch that sits like L and will threaten you with scissors 

Lulu - the type of bitch who is really shy

Suicide Sadie - the type of bitch who will start an argument with you and then beat the shit out of you

Kagekao - the type of bitch who gives everyone ‘cutesy’ nicknames…

Trenderman - the type of bitch who will hold a whole ass photoshoot at the mansion 

Offenderman - the type of bitch who is literally, canonically, a rapist.

Splendorman - the type of bitch who isn’t actually a bitch and is just really fucking wholesome and sweet 

Nurse Ann - the type of bitch who has resting bitch face.

Papa grande - the type of bitch who acts and sounds like Caine from TADC 

Smile dog - the type of bitch who will bite you….cause why tf not?

Dr. Smiley - the type of bitch who will just randomly start manically laughing outta no where.

Hobo heart - the type of bitch who will literally steal your heart

Asylum Nancy  - the type of bitch who is way too fucking happy and hyper up all the damn time

Stripes - the type of bitch who will have a full on mental breakdown because they saw something adorable or saw a fit, beautiful woman and got jealous 

Sadiya - the type of redneck, cowgirl, western bitch.

Clockwork - the type of bitch who will punch you when she laughs

Zero - the type of bitch who always fucking brags about how cool she is.

homicidal liu since @my-jukebox reminded me!: The type of bitch that has his inner emo alpha wolf side.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Stares at you and very politely requests for some transfem soda headcanons

Oh hell yeah I’d love to

(tw for mentions of period-typical transphobia)

Transfem Soda h/cs

-She keeps the name Sodapop.

-She worries sometimes that Mom and Dad would be disappointed in her, to which Pony or Darry will remind her that “Mom and Dad always said they wanted a girl, they’d be proud.”

-She loves to dress all feminine and whatever, but on a day to day basis she dresses more or less like she always has.

-Tulsa is big enough that outside of their neighborhood/school, most people don’t know her as she was before. So on dates, Steve likes to take her to the other side of town, away from all the people who know her as “Soda the boy”. She loves it, it’s so freeing to have folks see her as herself. 

-Speaking of Steve- he’d just finally accepted that he was gay when Soda started experimenting w/ gender stuff. (Turns out he wasn’t gay, he was bi and so in love with Soda that he couldn’t like anyone else, girl or guy.) But it definitely sends him spiraling into another crisis for a bit- he’s supposed to be gay, why’s the thought of Soda as a chick so hot?!

-Steve’s real supportive tho. Back when Soda was just calling it “crossdressing” he’d buy her things to experiment with- yk, like dresses, heels, makeup, etc. Part of that was selfish since Steve was sorta (very) into it, but it mainly stemmed from an earnest hope that Soda would feel more like herself

-That “crossdressing” phase lasted a few months, so when she eventually did come out to him as a girl, he wasn’t completely surprised. He’s who she came out to first, and it means a lot to him that she trusts him so much.

-Coming out to Darry and Pony tho is…harder. She knows they’ll always love her, but she feels like they’ll see her differently. 

-She tells Darry on accident. She’d just come home from work, feeling shitty because someone called her “such a nice young man”. She was tearing up about it, which made her feel worse, and then Darry showed up, home from work early. He got her to explain what happened, and the interaction went like this:

“Wait…so you don’t want folks to call you nice??”

“...I don’t want them to call me a man…”

Darry hugged her and said “Soda…you got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

And it was all over from there. She just spilled.

-When Ponyboy gets home, he’s surprised, a little weirded out, but mostly glad Soda’s happy. Neither him or Darry really get it at first, but they know she’s happy so they’re happy. Over time though, they understand more and more, till they understand her as well as she understands herself.

-Coming out to the gang is straightforward enough. Two-Bit started to make an iffy comment as a joke, but Steve threatened him till he shut up. Two-Bit’s supportive though- the way he sees it, the world always needs more hot chicks. Johnny goes to her for advice about girls, which he knows makes her feel validated. And Dally pretty much immediately starts flirting with her, partially out of his instinctual need to harass women and partially because it riles Steve up and Dally likes riling Steve up. Two-Bit flirts with her too- she’s hot, blond, and it pisses Steve off, so yeah, win-win.

-Darry worries about her sometimes. He does the protective older brother bit only half-jokingly, and it sort of annoys Soda because Darry was never this worried about her before she came out. She also sort of likes it, because yk, it feels affirming. So she’s got mixed feelings about that.

-Darry threatens to kill Steve if he hurts her. And sure, Darry did that back when stevepop first got together too, but now it feels even more pointed. Steve is a little scared of Darry in a way that he wasn’t before.

-Ponyboy straight up gaslights Curly Shepard, Mark Jennings, and half the kids at school into thinking Soda was always a girl, just a tomboy. “Jesus, you thought I had two brothers? Hell no, I’ve always had a brother and a sister. Soda just looked like a boy as a kid ‘cos she had to wear Darry’s hand-me-downs you fuckin’ idiots.”

-After seeing Ponyboy’s success at that, Two-Bit, Johnny, Dally, and Steve try to do the same with the other hoods. Tim Shepard doesn’t fall for it, but when Dally begrudgingly explains the situation, Tim supports it too. Not because he particularly likes Soda or trans people as a whole- he actually thinks she’s kind of a freak tbh- but because she’s a Curtis. Darry’s his friend, and she’s Darry’s kid sister. Besides, it’s what he’d do if Angela was trans. (this ain’t a great pov to have obviously! But yk, I’m aiming for realism.)

-Steve is saving up money to get Soda HRT. He hasn’t told her, but everytime he gets five bucks from his dad, it goes to the secret estrogen fund. He tells Darry about it, and Darry starts adding a small portion to it monthly too.

-She looks even more like her mom now. Sometimes, Pony will wake up from a nightmare and in his sleepy haze, he’ll momentarily think she is Mrs. Curtis. He’s never told Soda this before and never will. It’d make her feel guilty, and he doesn’t want that,

-It feels lousy living in Tulsa sometimes, where folks often misgender her and bring her down. So when she and Steve get older, they move to a nearby city where everyone who meets her meets her as Sodapop- Steve’s girlfriend, the Curtis sister, a young woman who’s fantastic with cars and even better with horses.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i just came by this post and i had to address it.

wow. that is a controversial take. and an objectively incorrect one.

i'll just preface this by saying that i'm not satisfied with arcane's finale either. i think it completely went against its own message in the end, and a lot of the arcs were resolved poorly.

but this take is still wild. let me break it down one by one:

there's nothing wrong with the "power of love/friendship" trope. the only problem is that

1. spop entirely focuses on romantic relationships. fuck familial relationships, fuck platonic relationships, the only thing that matters is romance.

2. most of the ships are either forced with no prior buildup or straight-up toxic.

horde prime as a whole was a poorly written villain who was only introduced because catra and hordak were "redeemed". that alone makes the entire finale weak, because horde prime is not as much of a threat as catra was. he's just a placeholder.

i'm convinced that the only reason they introduced the failsafe and the heart of etheria was because horde prime wasn't intimidating enough to keep the audience captivated.

mara convincing adora to stay alive would have been a touching scene if the message wasn't that adora should date her abusive sister.

i'm sorry, did we watch the same show? because how the fuck can you say that catra is no longer abusive after her redemption after watching all of this???

oh yeah, catra pushing adora to the ground and guilt tripping her for trying to save the world wasn't abusive at all. catra constantly screaming at adora for the smallest reasons isn't abusive, that's just catra's little quirk! /s

you would have to be blind to watch all of these instances of catra continuing to abuse adora, and still think that she has changed.

caitlyn hit vi with her rifle, yes, and I'm not going to defend that at all. i agree that it was completely unwarranted, regardless of her reasons. but caitlyn's actions are nothing compared to catra's.

you can love or hate caitvi, i literally don't care. but you can't hate caitvi for being "toxic" while acting like c//a is a healthy ship.

“catra ceased all intentions of being enemies with adora & glimmer and learned to love & fight for etheria”

oh yeah, that's why she kept taking jabs at the princesses and bragging about how many times she has defeated them. that's why she never apologized to glimmer for killing her mother, or to mermista for colonizing her kingdom. oh wait, mermista was very conveniently chipped so that poor catra wouldn't have to deal with all that, right?

let's be real, the only reason catra sided with adora was because she literally had no other choice. she was backed into a corner. she wanted to work for horde prime but since he was willing to throw her out, and the original horde was in shambles, catra's only choice was to join the rebellion. she does not care for the princesses or for etheria.

“catradora never had a power imbalance and fought pretty equally”

this just made me laugh. did this person even watch the show? catra had power over adora 90% of the time.

there were very few instances where adora had power over catra and usually in those instances, catra would attack adora in some way to bring her beneath her.

again, i have my complaints with caitvi. i don't think it's a perfect ship and i'm not going to defend the shitty parts of it. but catra has literally used every single type of abuse on adora - physical violence, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, guilt tripping, kidnapping, attempted murder, victim blaming - and y'all still think that caitvi is worse? be fucking for real.

five seasons isn't enough screentime to wrap up arcs in a satisfactory manner? come on. spop had plenty of time, the writers just didn't plan everything out. they absolutely did not make the most of what they had to work with.

they had 5 whole seasons and still decided to shove catra's redemption arc into the final one, completely rushing it and for what? so that adora had someone to smooch?

the conflict between glimmer and adora could also have been handled better. it was a complex situation, especially considering how catra and shadow weaver was the ones driving them apart. it shouldn't have been solved with a simple “i'm sorry, everything was my fault” and “lol it's okay we good now” like???

again, i'm dissatisfied with arcane's ending. i think a lot of the character arcs were sabotaged and there was too much going on in general.

but i don't think anything can compare to the character assassination in s5 of spop. everyone magically forgot about catra's crimes and forgave her; capable characters were suddenly incompetent and foolish so that catra could shine; and adora, who had completely moved on from catra, was now once again catra's doormat.

you can criticize arcane if you want but this post was just stupid. spop's final season was just as bad, if not worse than arcane. at least arcane managed to write a believable redemption arc for jinx within those 9 episodes - something spop couldn't do with five whole seasons.

[wwooyology]

You're Mine Baby | K.YS

「pairing」 : ex bf!yeosang x fem!reader 「word count」 : 3.2k

「synopsis」 : you and yeosang had been broken up for at least a year now, but when you come back to town and saw him with another girl it sets you off. he was only supposed to be yours and this time you were going to make sure that he understood that.

「genre」 : psychological horror/thriller, angst, dark romance, slight gore

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, DARK THEMES!!!, cussing, tiny bit of kissing, stalking, reader has SEVERE mental illnesses (she's just straight psychotic), gore, blood, murder, stabbing, use of a weapon (knife), name-calling (skank...), manipulation, threats, hitting/slapping, blackmail(?), reader is in love obsessed with yeosang, mentions of a therapist/mental hospital, EXTREME violence, petnames (my love, baby…), yelling/shouting, fighting, anger issues, gaslighting, reader lowkey gives off 'if I can't have you no one can' vibes, kidnapping, implied use of drugs/sedative, possessiveness, lmk if I missed anything bc I feel like I did…

「now playing」 : kill bill by sza

「notes」 : this is some dark shit so I HEAVILY advice you to carefully look over ALL of the warnings before you proceed with reading!! also if this isn't your type of thing that is perfectly fine, but please keep your unnecessary comments to yourself, thank you.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself sitting outside a cafe, an iced coffee sitting on the table in front of you as you stirred the ice around with your straw. However, your eyes were focused on the couple laughing away with each other on the other side of the window. Your eyes narrow as you watch the girl lean onto the male, anger coursing through your veins. That was supposed to be you, not some worthless skank.

How long has it been since you last saw Yeosang? Oh, right…it has been two years, six months, two weeks, and four days since you were coldly ripped from his arms. You could even recall the seconds, hours, and minutes as well. 

You had hoped that whenever you were released that you would get the chance to reconcile with your ex-boyfriend. Yet as you learned of his new girlfriend the more that bitter taste in your mouth grew. So much so that you wanted nothing more than to get her out of the picture.

The straw in your hand made a pathetic sound as your fingers tightened around it, absolutely destroying the poor thing as you watched Yeosang lean over the girl and capture her lips in a kiss. Rage started to cloud your vision and you stood from your seat, the chair scraping the ground roughly.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” The sound of the worker's voice drew you out of your intense haze, and you looked over at her with doe eyes. Seeing her glance down at your hand, you noticed that with the force of your abrupt standing, it caused some of your coffee to slosh around before splashing onto the surface of the table.

Swallowing thickly, you recalled your therapist's words, ‘Remember, y/n, don’t let your anger consume you. It will only cause you more trouble, and I would hate to see you back in here again.’

Letting out a shaky breath, you apologized to the girl before using a few napkins to clean up your mess. Whenever you were finished, you looked back over your shoulder only to find Yeosang and that wretched girl was gone. Grumbling lowly, you threw the soaked napkins away before grabbing your drink and storming off down the sidewalk.

“Of course, they just had to leave when I wasn’t looking. No worries though, I can find them.” You assured yourself as you took a sip of your slightly watered-down coffee from the new straw the worker had offered you.

That’s exactly what you did. You found them later that night at a movie theater. Then it was the food stall that was just right down the road from the school you and Yeosang had attended years ago before finally Yeosang took her home. You watched from across the road, hiding just beyond the shadows of two houses.

Disgust settled deep in your gut as you saw Yeosang pull her into a deep kiss, his hand against her lower back to pull her closer. Rage once again started to bubble in your gut the longer you watched until he finally pulled away, wishing her one last goodnight before walking off.

Eventually, this led to you following Yeosang around, no matter where he went or what time it was. You were there. You wanted to speak with him, tell him to leave that thing he calls a girlfriend so he could be with you once more, but you knew you couldn’t. He would run the moment he saw you.

 So you needed a plan… A plan that would surely make him yours once again.

Then, one day, while you were walking a good distance behind them, you started to recognize the familiar path that they were taking. You hoped that he wasn’t taking her to the spot that he once showed you and promised to never bring anyone else. Yet when he rounded the corner to an all too familiar alleyway, you just knew.

You stopped dead in your tracks, fingers curling into fists at your sides as rage boiled over, flooding every single part of your body until you saw nothing but crimson red. Then you knew… knew it was time to put your plan into action.

It was such a simple plan, really, and your poor, sweet ex-boyfriend was just as clueless as always. He didn’t even bat an eye whenever he received a gift of an all-paid vacation rental from his ‘friend.’ You watched from afar like you’ve done for the past two months, watching as he happily packed all his bags with his happy-go-lucky girlfriend. The sight made you sick, really; how could he be so happy with something like that? Only you truly knew what he deserved, and that was you, of course.

After the lights turned off in his girlfriend's apartment, you made your trek back to your car. All you had to do now was wait for that perfect moment to strike, then he’d be yours again.

—

Yeosang awoke with a groan. The back of his head was throbbing. However, upon trying to reach for his head, he noticed that he couldn’t move his hands. His eyes flew open as he pulled at his restraints after noticing that he was tied to a chair.

‘What’s going on?’ Was all he could think as he tried his best to recall what had previously happened. He and Yoonmin were sitting in the living room, watching a movie, when suddenly the lights went out. He couldn’t remember much of what happened next, it was far too dark, but he did remember feeling an excruciating pain in the back of his head before everything went black.

His eyes then wandered around the room until they fell on the unconscious girl who sat tied to a chair just a few feet in front of him. Panicked, he thrashes around in his seat, but the knots in the rope are far too strong and way too tight for him to break free of. Not only that, but his limbs all felt like jelly, and his muscles were not working the way they were supposed to.

Hearing noises from the other room you sat down the mug of warm tea that sat in your hands, a borderline psychotic smile spreading across your face. Walking into the next room over your steps, light but happy, this is what you’ve been waiting for after all.

“Well, lookie who decided to finally wake up.” You greeted the male happily, making slow strides into the room.

Yeosang’s head snapped in your direction, his eyes blown wide and pupils dilating in anger and fear. Seeing you again was as if he had woken up in his own personal hell, one that he knew he wouldn’t escape from, but he would be damned if he didn’t try. 

“Y/n, what the hell is wrong with you? Let us go!” He shouted, arms still roughly pulling at his restraints. Hearing words caused you to stop dead in your tracks, your smile completely wiped off of your face. 

He should be happy to see you, not angry. Not with so much hatred in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense, but then you heard a small groan from the other side of the room. Your eyes narrowed into slits as you looked over at the girl. She must have brainwashed him. That had to be it. There would be no other reason Yeosang would even dare to look at you with such contempt.

The clicking sound of your tongue breaks the deathly silent room, the floorboards creaking with each step you take toward the girl. Once she was fully conscious and saw you walking towards her, she started thrashing around in her chair, trying to escape, but to no avail. Yeosang shouts and pleas for you to stop filled the room as you roughly grabbed the girl’s hair, yanking her head back.

“Why are you doing this to us? We did nothing wrong!” The girl weeps as she looks up at you, silent pleas filling her eyes, but you can’t help but scoff at her words. 

With a scowl, you yanked her head back until she was looking up at you fully. “Nothing wrong? Nothing. Wrong?” A crazed laugh fell from your lips as if she had said the funniest thing in the world. After a few short moments, your laughter stopped, and your face fell stoic. 

Yeosang watched in fear and disbelief as you leaned into the girl's face until you were merely inches away. 

“You’re anything but innocent.” The words came out in a growl, your grip on her hair tightening causing her to cry out, more tears streaming down her face. Your wide eyes then studied the girl's face, taking in every little detail that you could possibly find. However, the longer you looked, the more aggravated you became.

What in the world could possibly be so good about her? 

Yeosang’s breath hitched, and his yelling stopped as you turned your head to look back at him. A violent chill ran down his spine at the crazed gleam in your eyes. He knew this look all too well after spending years with you, the very look that meant disaster would strike if nothing was done to stop it.

The corner of your lips twitched as you maneuvered yourself next to the crying girl before yanking her head up so she was looking at Yeosang. “Tell me Yeo… What's so good about her? Huh?” Your voice gradually grew in volume, “What does she have that I don’t?” Yeosang shouted at you to stop once more as you pulled on the girl's hair eliciting a pained cry from her lips. “What the fuck makes her so much better than me?”

You couldn’t possibly understand. He had promised you that he would wait until you were released so you could be together again. ‘Why did he go back on his word? Why would he lie to you like that? Why? Why? WHY?’  Thoughts started to cloud your mind, and your sanity slowly started to drift away as you teetered on the edge of the deep. 

Yeosang opened his mouth to speak, hoping to calm the situation like he had so many times in the past, but before he could even utter a word, his poor little girlfriend beat him to it.

“Because I’m not a fucking lunatic like you!” She shouted, spitting in your face and causing your whole body to freeze. At those words, that last little push was given, and something inside of you snapped, a small laugh leaving your lips.

Noticing that something wasn’t right, Yeosang pulled against his restraints, “Wait, wait, y/n! She didn’t mean it!” He tried to reason with you as you slowly stood straight, your hold on her hair slipping until your hand dropped back down to your side.

“Of course, I meant it, Yeosang. Do you not see her?!” She shouted at the male, who pleaded with her to stop talking, but she, of course, didn’t get the hint. “I don’t know why she was let out. I mean, look at her, she’s a total fucking nutjo–”

Before she could even finish her sentence, your hand collided with the side of her face, damn near knocking the chair over. A shrill cry of pain left the girl's lips as you slapped her once again, sobs raking her body. Yeosang screamed and thrashed in his restraints, begging you to stop, but you just glared at him.

“Pulling on those restraints is pointless. You can’t get out.” Your eyes were wide as a smile spread across your face, an idea coming to mind. Walking away from the sobbing girl, you make your way over to the table with a slight skip in your step.

“Yoonmin, look at me. We’re gonna be okay, I promise.” Yeosang tried to comfort the girl, who nodded, her hair a mess as she looked over at him. His words pulled a laugh from your lungs as your fingers wrapped around the hilt of a large kitchen knife.

“Oh, Sangie, you should know better than to give empty promises.” You pouted, dragging the blade off the table, allowing the sharp scraping sounds to echo around the room. Yeosang looked over at you with a glare until he saw the knife in your hand, his whole body going rigid. “There’s no one coming to save you. You are on vacation, after all.” A small chuckle fell from your lips as you neared Yoonmin, her whole body trembling as she shook her head profusely, “No one is going to find you… At least not for a while.” You covered your mouth as a borderline psychotic laugh racked your body.

You rounded the girl's seat, pointing the blade dangerously close to her face until you stood behind her. Then, in the blink of an eye, your hand was tangled in her hair once again, yanking her head back until her throat was fully exposed. Yeosang’s eyes widened as he lurched forward, begging you to stop and put the blade down as he tried once again to get out of his restraints, but just like all of the times before, he failed. However, as soon as the blade's sharp edge made contact with her skin, you stopped, a sinister smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Y/n, please.” Yeosang cried out, tears of his own blurring his vision. He knew that one wrong move could easily end Yoonmin’s life, and he also knew that he had very limited time to act. “You’re here for me, right? Let her go, and I promise I’ll go with you. Just let her go, y/n, please.” 

Your eyes narrowed into a glare as you pressed the blade further against the girl's neck, choked sobs racked her body as she tried to shy away from it. However, your grip was far too strong for her to go against.

“Oh my love,” You tilted your head, expression changing to one of pity as you looked at him, “we both know I can’t do that. You see, as long as this skank is alive, you’ll never fully be mine, and we can’t have that.” Your words alone were enough to send a chill down the male’s spine, but he wasn’t going to give up as he continued to try and negotiate with you, but it proved fruitless. “Can’t you understand it, Yeosang? I’m the only one you need. I’m the only one who loves you, who is truly right for you. Not some watered-down rat you found on the street.” You growl, pressing the blade just far enough to break the first layer of skin; bright crimson-red blood seeped out, running down her heaving chest. 

Growing even more aggravated, you told Yeosang to just say goodbye before starting to drag the blade across the girl’s skin.

“No, no, please y/n! NO!” Yeosang shouted, but it was useless; with precise movements, you had sliced the girl’s neck wide open. Blood sprayed out of the gaping wound as she struggled to intake any air. Your hand became covered in the thick liquid as you laughed maniacally.

Yeosang could only sit there in shock, tears streaming down his pale face as he watched the life drain from his girlfriend's body until she fell limp in her chair. “H-How could you?” He choked out, looking up at you as you wiped your face with your forearm but only managed to smear more blood. “Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?!” Sobs fell from his lips as he shouted at you, but you could only shake your head.

You slowly walked over to him, your hands behind your back as you playfully swung the knife around. “One day, you’ll understand Sangie, but she had to die. That’s the only way you would be mine and mine alone. I didn’t want to kill her, but that was the best way to do it.” You pouted as you finally reached him, bending at the waist to look at him.

“This is wrong, y/n.” Yeosang’s voice shook as he stared at you in nothing but unadulterated fear. He knew that you would never physically hurt him, but you definitely had your way around it. 

A pained expression fell upon your features as you reached out to him, cupping his cheek in your hand despite him trying to back away. “I just love you so much, Sangie, I can’t stand seeing you with other people. It just hurts me so much, and I’d rather die than be without you.”

“That’s not love, it’s an obsession.”

“Oh, but Sangie, you know deep down that you belong with me. Even your sweet mother knows that.” You spoke softly as your fingers tightened around his chin, “I would absolutely hate to see something happen to that poor woman.” 

Yeosang felt his blood run cold at the mention of his mother, eyes growing wide as you pulled your phone out of your pocket. After a few taps, you turn the device around to show Yeosang the screen. Even though the smeared blood on the screen, he could very clearly tell that it was his mother, humming to herself in the kitchen while she cooked dinner.

Fear sunk its claws even deeper into his bones as he took in the unsettling smile that was on your lips. He was trapped.

“Now… are you going to be a good boy and listen to me? I’m only doing this for your own good, baby; I hope you understand that.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet as you cooed at him, your phone placed back into your pocket.

Yeosang knew that he didn’t have any other choice but to agree with you. It was the only way he could guarantee the safety of those around him. His pain-filled eyes flickered back over to the dark-haired girl's lifeless form before shifting his gaze back up to you.

“I’ll go with you, but you have to promise that you won’t hurt anyone else.” He begged, tears still spilling down his face, now mixing with the blood on his chin from your stained hand.

Shaking your head with a click of your tongue you brought the blade up to your face, waving it from side to side, eyes trained on the crimson cover metal. Then your eyes moved back over to meet Yeosang’s.

“That will all depend on if you can behave, my love. Be good, and no one else will get hurt.” Your tone was kind, but there were undertones that indicated that your words were anything but a bluff.

His heart pounded in his chest as he swallowed thickly, “I’ll behave, I promise.” He told you reluctantly, and he felt goosebumps litter his skin when a bright smile spread across your face.

Reaching forward, you cupped his face once more before leaning forward to place a kiss on his forehead. “We’re gonna be the happiest couple in the world, Sangie, I love you so much!”

It was then that it finally set in that he was trapped with nowhere else to run. His most terrifying nightmare had actually come true, but unlike those wicked dreams, he couldn’t wake up from this one.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[cinnamonest]

the incel scara post activated my single braincell..

Just imagine his mom just got married to yae miko and reader is now his step-sister, this girl isn’t even an overly nice bubbly girl he can hate on for getting on his nerves, she just keeps to herself and only talks to him when his game gets too loud or his side of their shared room gets too dirty.

“Can you pick up that potato chip bag from the floor? It’s been there for a week…”

“Shut up… cant you see im in the middle of the game?!”

Even though he yells at her to mind her own business he cant help but overtime becoming fond of her (the only female his age he sees more than 1 hour every day) He probably jacks off while shes in their room too pretending to be asleep so she doesn’t notice, he even gaslights her into sleeping with him since “its okay we are not even related”

He probably develops a sister complex too, even though he sleeps with her, he cant stand his sister even being in a 3 meter radius of another guy. (Yes only after he started sleeping with reader he considers her his sister) It bothers him so much that he started choosing reader’s wardrobe, and checking her phone so she doesn’t end up like other girls. It has become his life mission his pretty and quiet little sister stays like this, pure and only touched by him.

Meanwhile Ei just thinks reader is just such a good influence on him since scara is not screaming at his pc at midnight for once in his lifetime

Im sorry I just love the idea of scara having a sister complex 😭

For your information he is Grandmaster ranked in league of legends and he is not about to let YOU interfere with that with your dumb cleaning requests 😤😤😤 he’s busy. Just do it yourself, it’s not like you have anything important to do, unlike himself who has skills to be honing.

He takes his crippling addiction to online games very VERY seriously and God help you if you do anything to mess with him regarding that. One time you were mad at him for not listening to you because he was in the middle of a ranked game, so you huffed, stomped out of the room, and immediately went to unplug the router… you get a few seconds of silence before the predictable, but nonetheless frightening, yelling of your name and storming footsteps headed straight for your direction. You start to regret your choice a little bit as you’re chased around your own home, squealing and stumbling until inevitably tackled and dragged back to his room. No one else is home either, so no reason to hold back…

[itstheghostofmypast]

01.53

Kim Hongjoong x (f)Reader

Summary: She was his feisty kitten, his Princess, his girl who followed the three G's- gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss- but most importantly she was his princess with a severe migraine issue.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word count : 1k

Est. Read Time: 5 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Rating: SFW

A/N: @edenesth this one's for you (I really need to finish my due work)

Banner by: @cafekitsune

She sat up swiftly, almost falling off in the process, blinking at the sight of the unfamiliar yet familiar wall in front of her. Taking a bit longer to buffer as she looked around, squinting at the darkness until her eyes landed on the black tuft of an idiot she called hers. The light of the computer created a silhouette of his figure- why were all the lights off?

"Joong?" her voice hoarse and scratchy making her wince, though it was enough to catch his attention. Swirling around to her he smiled at her, 'Baby, did I wake you up?' he whispered, trying not to be too loud, making sure his princess wasn't hurting because of him.

Shaking her head she slowly moved, her feet meeting the carpeted ground as her back pressed against the cool leather, eying her boyfriend lazily, "Why am I here- why are the lights off?"

"Because you were having migraines...did you forget, my feisty kitten?" raising an eyebrow he smirked, " I turned them off so you could sleep." sitting there he eyed her form, dressed in one of his shirts, the blanket pooling around her waist, her hair a mess, though he regretted it wasn't his doing that had turned her hair wild like that.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Manspreading. You're gross Hongjoong"

"I love you too, baby."

"You're disgusting," she whined, kicking the blanket off as she got up, deciding to go home. The sudden mood swing had confused him, he thought they were only joking, though his body went on auto mode when she stood up, knowing fully well she was not well enough to do so, jumping off his seat to grab her when she tripped.

She didn't know if it was because of the migraines or the fatigue, but as soon as she took the first step towards the door her world blurred, tilting in slow motion, shit. Before she could hit the ground she collided with a warmer, softer surface, a more familiar one. Sighing she inhaled his scent, his cologne and the mists of the aftershave he'd use. Resting her pulsating head against his chest she whined, as if asking him to do something about it.

Shaking his head in disbelief he let out a chuckle, "Princess, don't go scaring me like that." Slowly leading her back to the couch he helped her up, placing a pillow behind her head, after fluffy it up, "Sit up straight, I'll get you some aspirin." tucking her in, even though she was sitting he pecked her cheek, trying to not glance at her pouting lips, inviting him for something more intimate, but her health was what was more important right now.

"Are you...done with your work?' she asked, watching him walk around the small studio, opening a few drawers, her eyes flickering to the bright computer screen, squinting at it, the brightness annoying her.

Turning around with the bottle of pill he looked at her, watching her clear her throat and put up a brave face, as if nothing was wrong. Shaking his head he went over to press the power button of his monitor, turning it off, "You realise pretending it doesn't hurt will only make it worse?" handing her the bottle he grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewing it for her, wanting to help her drink it, though his 'independent ', 'strong', 'immortal' lover took it from him, swallowing the pills and chugging down most of the water.

"Thirsty kitty." smiling at her he sat at the edge of the table in front of her, looking at her, "And to answer your question, I finished my work as soon as you came in, but when you dozed off I let you sleep because I knew waking you up would just worsen your condition."

"Oh." was all she said before putting the bottle aside and tossing off the blanket, "Time to go home them, shorty." throwing in the nickname she glanced at him, earning a glare from him, "I don't think someone who can't take care of themselves should have the right to be mean"

With that he got up, leaning closer, tilting his head, and stopping mere centimetres away from her. Her breath hitched at the proximity, waiting for him, fingers gripping the fluffy blanket in anticipation. His breath fanning across her face, he glanced at her through his long pretty lashes, watching her move her face, trying to make sure there was some form of physical exchange, "Too bad, I don't kiss mean girls." His face was smug and so smackable as he pulled back, smirking down at her as he stood their arms crossed over his chest, watching her shocked features morph into disgust, "So, sorry, princess. I need to pack up so we can go home," making his way to his spread out things, humming to himself like nothing had happened.

He was almost done clearing his desk when something smacked against his head, his hand instinctively pressing against the back of his head as he whipped around to glare at her.

"YAH! DID YOU JUST THROW THE BOTTLE AT ME?"

She sat there all doe-eyed and innocent, pulling the blanket higher to cover her torso as well, resting it on her shoulders, smirking at him- sure her head was still killing her, but who was he to tease her and deny her of the affection she oh so greatly deserved. Even if he had been showing nothing but small gestures filled to the brim with his enormous amount of love for her, perhaps she was needy tonight, perhaps she wanted more than just the usual Hongjoong' non-physical ways of affection, which reminded her of why she had stumbled into the studio at the first place. As soon as she was done with work her headaches had worsened, which is why she had come here, demanding to cuddle to which he had asked her to wait for just an hour- must have dozed off during the waiting session. What a manipulative bastard- he's lucky she loves him, otherwise she would've...well she would've whined and complained louder and harder.

"EXPLAIN YOURSELF?!"

"Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss."

Taglist: @edenesth @mlysalt @spooo00oky @cereal-simp @yessa-vie

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 III. Path to the Future (Ch 11)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE PREVIOUS

III. Path to the Future

CH 11 (7.3k) Slowly opening your eyes, you see warm sunlight pouring in through the high windows in a familiar room, although a room you didn’t expect to see ever again. You blink a few times, already knowing you’re in the same clinic room you woke up in last fall. Your mind does a few somersaults, trying to recall where you’ve been and how you could be here again. It doesn’t take long for you to figure it out.

You sit up slightly and the first thing you see is Joel, sitting in his old chair at the foot of your bed, watching you. You see him break eye contact and look at your head, so you reach your hand towards your head but a clamping sensation on your wrist stops your hand’s upward movement. You throw the blanket off your arm and see that your right arm is handcuffed to the bedrail. The transition to being Joel’s prisoner is complete.

“Really?” you huff.

You look back at Joel and he gives you a shy smile, looking almost repentant. Almost.

You suppose if you’re being truly honest with yourself, you didn’t think he would actually let you go, even though you practically begged him to. He’d told you more than once that he wouldn’t let you get away and seeing as how he’d marched across the state to catch up to you after you left the farm, going back empty-handed probably wasn’t on his agenda. You knew this, but it didn’t make you any less annoyed to find yourself shackled to your hospital bed under his watchful eye. 

“Is this the part where you take a sledgehammer to my legs?” you ask, straight-faced.

The doctor walks in just then and gives you a surprised look, then smiles.

“Glad to see you woke up so quickly,” she says as she takes out a flashlight and checks your eyes. “Joel said you hit your head pretty hard.”

You grab her with your uncuffed hand, she jumps slightly.

“You have to help me,” you plead. She looks towards Joel and you squeeze her arm to draw her attention back to you. “Joel is the one who hit me on the head, you have to help me get out of here, you have to get Tess. Please get Tess.”

“Stop that, now,” Joel hums, then turns to the doc and whispers. “See, doc? She hit her head and she’s just been sayin’ all sorts ‘a crazy stuff. I’m just worried about her safety.”

Shit. While you were unconscious Joel apparently got in front of the situation and already laid the groundwork for his gaslighting, spinning a tale about the wound on your head and justifying the need to handcuff you to the bed. He thinks he can win this game? Maybe he thinks that because you haven’t even been playing it, you’ve been blacked out from a head wound he gave you. 

"You are such a fuckin-” you sneer at him.

“See what I mean? She’s been so mean, not like herself at all,” Joel continues in response.

“I’ll show you how mean I can get, Joel… Uncuff me from this bed.”

“We don’t want a repeat of last time, now do we?” Joel says to the doctor, then turns to you.

Oh, now you get it. You’d threatened these people with scissors all those months ago - when you woke up in an unknown place - and Joel is playing on that fear they apparently still have of you. He’s playing like you’ve lost your mind, like you’d be a danger to all of them if they don’t listen to him. Oh, he’s good. He’s downright diabolical.

“Joel,” you huff. “Don’t fuckin’ do that shit. I know exactly who is the threat here and it’s not me.” The doctor begins to slowly back out of the room, the growing tension making her visibly uncomfortable. You turn to her, pointing your finger at her face and screech, “You have to get Tess!” 

The doctor keeps moving slowly towards the door, not giving much merit to your shrill ramblings. You move your outstretched finger back and forth between Joel and the doctor, muttering curses under your breath and trying to figure out how the fuck to get out of this. You sound kind of crazy now, thanks to Joel for pushing your buttons. You wish this was easier, that he was dumb like those kids at the summer camp, but unfortunately you’re dealing with someone who knows all your tricks, who can see through your deceptions. Maybe he had a point when he said you two were alike. 

You’re going to have to play to the doctor, to get her to help you despite Joel’s planted lies. Convinced there’s few alternative options, you decide to try and fake a medical episode. You’ve had a knock on the head, it’s completely within the realm of possibility. You throw your body backwards on the bed and begin to convulse, shaking your limbs and rolling your eyes back in your head. You clench your hands and teeth, trying to mimic a seizure as best you can. 

It works. The doctor is back at your side immediately, calling for help down the hall, lifting your eyelids to shine a flashlight back in your eyes, yelling for Joel to hold your legs.

“That’s not real,” Joel calmly says.

The doc continues to shout orders at two nurses now in the room, one of them shoving something in your mouth to bite down on and the other holding your legs. The doctor is yelling at Joel, who continues to stand back in silence and refuses to help. You decide to up the ante and stop holding the full bladder that probably woke you up in the first place, letting yourself pee the bed while continuing to shudder and shake.

“Oh Fuck,” one of the nurses says.

“She’s faking it,” Joel says from behind them.

“That’s not fake piss,” the other nurse says.

“Go get Tess,” you hear the Doctor whisper to one of them.

---

You hear Tess’ voice in the hallway, and her steps pause just near the doorway of your room.

“What happened? Is she okay?” you hear her ask.

“She’s fuckin’ fine,” Joel mutters.

“The doc said-”

“She’s fakin’ it,” he hisses.

You can’t even stop the giggle that escapes your lips, as you lie there, having pretended to be unconscious after your incident.

“I thought you said you guys worked your shit out,” Tess says to Joel.

“Well he’s a fucking liar,” you answer, sitting up in bed and yanking your wrist up to clank the metal handcuffs on the metal bedrail.

She looks back at you and then back to Joel. You can’t see her face but he shrugs and looks away from whatever look she’s giving him.

“It’s a work in progress,” he growls.

She asks him for the handcuff key and when he gives it she comes over to the bed and unlocks your wrist from the restraint. She looks you over, touching what you now know is a bandage on your head from whatever Joel hit you with, and sees that besides being covered in your own piss you’re otherwise unharmed. 

“Can you give us a minute?” she says, facing you.

“I don’t think she should get up,” Joel answers.

“I was talking to you, Joel,” Tess says, turning to look at him. “I’m asking you to leave the room so we can have a conversation without you in here.”

A long pause goes by while her words work their way past his thick skull.

“Yeah, okay…” he trails off, looking dejected as he shuffles out of the room.

She turns back to you.

“You gave us all quite the scare there, ya know?”

“I’d had enough,” you shrug. “I couldn’t be near him anymore.”

“But you weren’t near him, I sent you pretty far away.”

“And yet, he still had a way of gettin’ under my skin… Also, and I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I had shit go missing and it just seemed like-'' Tess' face twists at your words and stops you mid-sentence. Realization washes over you. “Oh… so not crazy then.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching out to touch your hand. “When I found out I made him stop.”

“I think you need a shorter leash on your dog, Tess.”

“What do you want me to do? Do you want to leave again? I’ll help you.” She asks earnestly.

“You think he’d let me?” You both exchange a look that says you both know the answer is no. “Then what am I supposed to do? What do you think I should do?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, we can do whatever you want to do.”

“It matters to me what you think, Tess.”

“I- I know it seems like this is a deeply toxic relationship. But I think you’re both at war with each other, firing everything you’ve got over the walls you’ve both put up. I think - and you can tell me to fuck off - but I think that if you both put down your weapons and let each other past the armor, that you’d actually be really fucking good for each other.”

A long pause stretches between the two of you and then you scoff.

“Fuck off, Tess.”

“You don’t think so?” 

“You’re just saying what he wants you to, obviously,” you snide, even if you don’t really believe it.

“So none of your feelings for him were real?”

“How could they be? That wasn’t who he really is.”

“Sure it was. That was part of him. And this- this is also part of him.”

“Yeah, a fucking asshole,” you spit.

“So now you have the whole picture, right?” 

“Yeah, I do.”

“So you definitely don’t feel anything for him now.”

You open your mouth to immediately answer but your stupid fucking brain reminds you of the way you felt when he told you that he loved you and you choke on your words. Fuck. He said he loved you. He said that Bianca’s baby wasn’t his. He said you were all he wanted. You hated him. You hated the way his words made your flesh shiver, made your insides flip. You hate the effect he had on you, the way he’s making you doubt yourself now. 

You turn your head to hide the tears that have come to your eyes unbidden and spill down your cheek. Tess sees it, your whole reaction is so fucking obvious, but she’s gracious enough not to say anything. She squeezes the hand she’s been holding.

“Maybe just give it a little time. Then we can figure out what to do, okay?” she says.

---

After your little stunt the doctor insisted on observing you overnight and you didn’t have the heart to reveal your lie to her, so you stayed in the musty old hospital bed with Joel sleeping sitting-up in the chair that he moved in front of the doorway. The next afternoon Joel walks you from the clinic back to the house - his house - as if you don’t remember how to get there. Obviously he just doesn’t want to let you out of his sight. The first time he sent Tess to bring you there but he apparently doesn’t even trust her anymore. 

You see people watching you walk together, tending to their yards and pretending not to stare. It hasn’t been a week since you walked down the gravel drive of the farm but people have obviously heard about your little disappearing act. When you get to the porch you see a box filled with your clothes and trinkets you left behind at the farm sitting outside the door. When you step inside the house is eerily still, Joel’s footsteps coming in behind you loud in the unusual quiet. He comes up beside you, the box in his arms, and nods his head up the stairs.

“Where do you want your stuff?” he asks.

Your brows knit. What does that mean? “Which room is free?”

“You can have any room you want.”

You take a moment and then point to the door at the top of the stairs to the right.

“My room?” he asks.

“My room,” you answer.

You don’t actually expect him to give you his room, you were just fucking with him, but he walks up the stairs and brings the box into his room as you follow on his heels. He sets the box down on a chair and you watch in silence with a curious expression as he grabs his clothes out of the closet and lays them down on the bed. He goes to the dresser and grabs more clothes, placing them on top of the others and then gathering them in the blanket that was atop the bed like a fuzzy parcel. 

“There’s another blanket in the closet for ya,” he says as he heads out of the room.

You follow him to the doorway but don’t leave the room, watching him turn and bring his armful of shit into Tess’ room. That’s gonna be a shock for her when she gets home, you think to yourself. Shit, maybe fucking with Joel isn’t a good idea if it’s gonna screw over Tess, the only person who seems to be in your corner. He comes back out of the room and your eyes meet in the hallway. You jump back and slam the door closed, locking the handle. You’re not sure what his limits for being messed with are going to be and the bump on your head reminds you of his not-so-gentle nature. Probably for the best to keep away from him for a while.

---

A light knock on the door wakes you from your afternoon nap, the room now cast in a dim evening glow. You sit up in Joel’s bed and look towards the door - still shut and locked.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says through the wood, then you hear his footsteps retreat down the stairs.

You didn’t mean to stay asleep so long. How did you not wake up while dinner was being made? You unlock the door and head downstairs, the creaking stairs under your bare feet echoing off the walls. You turn into the dining room and see the long table empty, save for a plate of food set in front of each chair at the head and foot of the table. What the hell?

“Where is everyone?” you ask.

“Just us,” he says.

You eat dinner in silence, the silverware scraping the plates is the only sounds outside your own jaw chewing the food. He takes your plate when you’re done eating and washes the dishes alone in the kitchen. This is creeping you out, the quiet, the calm. What is he doing? Where is everyone? You think he must be waiting for you to let your guard down so he can pounce, so while his back is turned to the dining room you tiptoe out of the room and run up the stairs, diving in his room and locking the door behind you.

It occurs to you that he probably has a key for his own room so you grab the chair from the corner and place it in front of the door, wedging it under the handle. You used to see this in movies and never thought it would work but you remember Tess doing it the night he bit you, so you think maybe there’s some truth to it after all. You hear him walk past the door a while later and a closing door echoes from down the hall. 

He’s just there, on the other side of the wall, in Tess’ room. You wonder if he put something outside this room, maybe hung bells on the door, so he can hear if you try to escape. God, you think he’d probably put a leash on you if he had one. Shit, does he have one? You look over to the doorknob again, double-checking it’s still locked. You think you’re safe. At least for tonight. 

You’re suddenly regretting trying to fuck with him, maybe it’s best you just act pleasant, maybe he’ll treat you best if you go along with whatever the fuck this is. Maybe you’ll check with Tess tomorrow at breakfast and see about switching rooms. You don’t actually want his room, the room he most definitely has a key to. You’d rather share Tess’ room with her, and be safely locked away from him with someone. Just one night alone and then tomorrow you’ll fix it.

---

You’re awoken by a loud knocking, and it sounds like it’s coming from downstairs. You wait to see if anyone else is going to answer it but when there are repeated knocks you get out of bed and move the chair blocking the bedroom door. When you make it downstairs and throw the large front door open you see Tess standing on the porch.

“What, did you forget your key?” you laugh. 

This is a joke, because there is no key. The front door is never locked. You were told your first week here that everyone within this town could be trusted so no one bothered to lock their doors anymore. It gave you a warm fuzzy feeling inside and made you feel like after nearly a decade of fear, maybe you were somewhere that you could feel safe. Even after being harassed and kidnapped by Joel, you suppose that this is somewhere you still feel safe.

Tess gives you a strange look, but smiles.

“Is Joel around?” she asks.

“I dunno,” you shrug.

“Well when did you see him last?” she looks past you, around the house.

“At dinner, then he went into your room for the night. He wasn’t there when you woke up?” Your brows knit to match the confused expression on her face. “Oh, you didn’t come home last night?”

“What do you mean my room?”

“He didn’t tell you?” You blush a little and bite your cheek to keep from smirking. Don’t be an asshole, it’s not funny to fuck with your captor. “I took his room so he moved into your room. But it’s just temporary, I don’t want you to be put out, it was just a joke-”

“That- that’s not my room anymore though,” she says slowly and then repeats your words. “He didn’t tell you?”

Your smug expression melts away. “What?”

“I don’t live here anymore,” she says.

Just then you both hear a scuffle of boots behind her and look to see Joel walking up the steps, hair slicked back fresh from the baths. He looks between you and Tess, both of your faces marked with confusion. 

“Everythin’ okay?” he questions.

“Why does Tess think she doesn’t live here anymore?” you blurt out, acrimony lacing your words.

“Because she doesn’t?” He continues looking back and forth.

“Why would you kick her out? She had nothing to do with me leavin’, she didn’t know-”

“She didn’t move out as a punishment,” he clarifies. “Everyone found a new place to live, it’s just you and I here now.”

“Wh- What?” you stutter. Is that why you haven’t seen anyone else since you got back? You and Joel have been alone here and you barely even questioned it. A million questions race through your mind. You land on the simplest. “Why?”

“Why? Because you told me you thought we were meant to be together but you couldn’t watch me be with anyone else,” Joel says, moving past Tess and closer to you in the doorway as he speaks. “So there’s no one else now. It’s just me and you.”

Your cheeks heat. You don’t dare risk a glance at Tess to measure her reaction to Joel’s recounting of your humiliating confession. Joel moves to take your hand but you pull back, worried that you would melt into his touch and your armor would shatter, floating away like dust on the wind only to leave you naked and exposed right there at the front door for everyone to see.

Instead, Joel says he’ll be right back and moves past you and into the house. You see him head towards his office as you keep your gaze unfocused on the bustling square behind Tess. He comes back moments later and steps past you again, Tess turning to join him in bouncing down the stairs.

“Hey! Where are you going?” you call out to their retreating figures.

They stop and Joel turns around. “Got work to do,” he replies.

“You’re just gonna leave me here? Don’t you wanna chain me to the radiator or somethin’?” you shout loud enough that you’re sure some of the neighbors can hear.

“Do I need to?” he shouts back.

Tess elbows him, looking around and smiling an awkward grin. They both turn back towards the square and continue walking away, leaving you at the threshold.

Since you apparently have an empty house and nothing else to do, you heat up several pots of water, carrying them upstairs to take a bath in the tub. You've been wearing the same thing for nearly a week, so you discard your smelly clothes on the bathroom floor and sink into the hot water. You let yourself soak until the water grows tepid, thinking over Joel’s words as he left earlier. It’s just me and you. He’d sent everyone away, even Tess, because you told the idiot you were foolishly in love with him once. Now you’re in this house all alone with him. God, it sounds like a nightmare, you whisper to yourself, even as a thrilling feeling zips down your spine and makes your pussy clench.

Fuck, you hate him, why do you react like this? He’s a fucking maniac, a controlling narcissist who has hurt you to keep you from leaving him. Once out of the bath you plod around the house, naked and dripping, confirming what Joel told you this morning. Every bedroom, aside from the two claimed by you and Joel, is unoccupied. The beds are stripped bare, the dressers are empty of clothing, the shelves devoid of books, and any personal belongings that once adorned the walls or tops of nightstands have been cleared away.

You pass by the front door, checking the lock as you go, seeing it unlocked and thinking how crazy it is that he just left you here. He seems pretty confident you’re not going to set fire to all his flannel shirts, grab his gun from the locked case that he irresponsibly leaves the key on top of, and raid his pantry before you take off up the mountain. Then you realize that’d probably be a lot of wasted energy since you’re fairly certain you’d end up right back here within a week, Joel clearly unwilling to lose the game of cat and mouse you’re engaged in.

You utilize your time alone by snooping further, letting yourself into Joel’s unlocked office and walking around the sun-filled room. There’s so many windows in here but you don’t even care if anyone sees you snooping around in the nude. You run your fingers along the spines of the paperbacks on his bookcases, recalling afternoons spent with him in this room, alone. You’d practically sit on his lap, watching his mouth curl around the words while he read to you about doctors or dinosaurs, courtroom dramas or enchanted forests. The way you wanted him… could you ever feel that again? He seems to think so.

You sit down at his desk and start rummaging through all his drawers. He’s got pens and notebooks, patrol schedules and calendars, and several photographs of him with people you don’t recognize, taken on polaroid cameras in what looks like a Fedra QZ. You find several maps drawn out of the Valley, both the town and the larger community outside its crude walls. You move to put the maps back and a piece of cloth catches your eye.

You pull it out to find that it’s your pillowcase from the dairy farm. You’d come back from your bath one day this past spring and had noticed it missing. Inside the pillowcase are two books; the one he gifted you for Christmas and the one you’d lost at the farm. Tess confirmed your suspicions the other day but you’re still pissed off at this evidence that he couldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t let you just move on. The last thing inside the pillowcase is a pair of your underwear and you stop to think, unable to remember any of those going missing at the farm.

Then it dawns on you when he’d taken these underwear. Unlike his other ill-gotten keepsakes these were something that you let him take off you. These were from the night you let him in completely, let him have every last piece of your mind and soul, let him devour you completely. The night you knew you loved him. Your body reacts again, a heat spreading across your chest and up your neck to your cheeks. You feel your core start to tingle and uninvited images of him between your legs plague your mind. That memory shouldn’t make you feel like this. He shouldn’t make you feel like this.

He’s a liar. He’s a manipulator. He’s a bad fuckin’ guy.

Joel comes home late in the afternoon just as you’re getting hungry, having only eaten some canned vegetables from the basement all day, with dinner in his hands. He sets the containers down at opposite ends of the table again as you take your seat, awaiting his reaction to the sight of you dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and the reclaimed underwear that he’d kept hidden away. You see his eyes dart down your legs as he moves towards his own chair, but he doesn't react. You notice the meal is packaged up the way that Kerri used to do it, when she would bring meals out to valley residents. 

“Still got Kerri making all your meals for you, your majesty?” you mock.

“Making food for everyone is Kerri’s job now, so yeah, I stopped and got us some,” he says calmly, not taking your bait for a fight. “I didn’t think you’d feel up to making dinner for us yourself just yet.”

The realization of his words hits you like a slap in the face. “You expect me to make your dinner?” you balk. Before he can respond you stand and throw your food across the room, watching the hot steaming meal splatter against the wall behind him. “I’m not gonna cook and clean and let you breed me like I’m your little wife.” You tip your chair over as an added flair in your little tantrum and turn to march up the stairs, shouting as you go. “I’m not playing fucking house with you, Joel.” 

Joel didn’t think it was going to be easy, you adjusting to being back home. He knew you were still upset with him - rightfully so - and that it’d take time for you to adjust, to find your rightful place here. He thinks maybe you never found your footing before and that’s part of why you used to be so meek and adrift. Now he sees a confidence in you that he never saw before. He knows what you’re capable of, he knows how meticulous and calculated you can be when you want something. 

So he’ll just wait. He’ll wait until you figure out what you want. If you don’t want to cook that’s fine, he knows you’re not very skilled in the kitchen anyways. He doesn’t care what you do, he just wants you to find something to make you happy, to make you want to be here in this life with him. There are so many jobs here you could do but you never seemed interested in the garden, or the household chores, or fishing, or apparently even milking cows. 

So what are you interested in? He'll leave you to sort it out on your own and when you’re ready you can let him know, and he'll give it to you. He’ll give you anything you ask for, you just haven’t realized it yet.

---

Every day after that follows a similar script. Joel leaves with Tess in the mornings and you spend the day lazing about, making messes, and snacking on anything you can find. Several days in you worry that Joel will get on your back about the dent you’re putting in the preserved food stored in the root cellar. You head across the square to Georgia’s house, who used to love boring you with stories about her six kids - all adopted here in the valley - and is now happy to feed yet another welcome face. You only have to endure her talking your ear off and you get a hot meal. It’s almost too easy. 

As you walk around the square in the afternoons, you greet the residents, coming out of their houses to give you hugs and handshakes, hand you flowers and treats to give to Joel. You’re not even sure you’re supposed to be out of the house so how are you supposed to pass on these gifts? Does he know you leave the house, does he have people watching you and reporting back to him?

You wonder sometimes why you haven’t just skipped town. Part of you is pretty sure that he’d come after you and drag you back again. You’re good at surviving but you’re not an escape artist and he easily followed your clumsy trail halfway across the state last time. But the rest of you, in a bewildering state of honesty, can admit that you don’t want to go. You felt wrapped up in grief before and thought you had no chance but to run away, but you were sad to leave the safety and comfort of the Valley.

The community here provides a good, comfortable life, the people here are friendly and kind, they protect what’s theirs and look out for each other. You have a warm, soft place to rest your head and are never short on things to fill your belly. There’s a wall between you and the outside world and people who patrol that wall to keep danger on the other side. You’re safe. Things are good here, and what’s more, you are seemingly under the protection of the Alpha dog.

God, how pathetic are you that the thought of Joel being feral and insane for you is giving you comfort right now? The way people look up to him, the way they talk about him like he’s divine… you used to think it was inspiring. Then you thought it was just fodder for Joel’s ego, so self-obsessed that he raised himself up on a pedestal like a golden idol. Now, you’re ashamed to find yourself getting a contact-high off the power, dizzy with the masculine energy that radiates off him, under the spell of the dominant strength that everyone else also responds to.

In the passing weeks Joel comes back every evening with food that you know is made by Kerri and you both eat it in near-silence. You’re not foolish enough to toss it around the room and go hungry again, but you still pepper in attempts to pick a fight with him at every opportunity. 

This isn’t as good as she used to make it. She must be losing her touch.

This is so salty. You’d better be careful, what with your blood pressure and all.

The rice is undercooked and the meat is overcooked. Ugh, this is barely edible.

You’re not even sure why you’re doing it, really, and you’ve definitely given it thought, since you’re left alone with nothing but your thoughts all day every day. Everytime you open your mouth and something rude comes out you wait with bated breath, wondering if that will be the thing that sets him off. Are you trying to piss him off? Are you trying to make him toss his meal at the wall? Are you trying to get him to throw you over the table again? 

No, you don’t want to see that monstrous version of him show its fangs, but you’d still be entertained to get a rise out of him. He’s been like a neutered dog since he dragged you back here, letting you berate and disrespect him daily. You’d like to see him show some backbone, to have a reaction to what you’re doing. With each passing day there’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind that tells you he doesn’t care, that he’s getting tired of your attitude, that he’s losing interest. No matter how many times you tell yourself you don’t care - the thoughts still make your mind swirl with disappointment.

Worse than that though, is the sour feeling in your stomach when you sit across from him every night and watch him eat Kerri’s food. You know it shouldn’t bother you and you know that you never even actually saw them together, but it doesn’t stop the image of their two bodies entwined from inserting itself into the forefront of your mind. Kerri cooking for your man, touching your man, fucking your man. 

No, not your man. Fuck. He’s not yours, he’s anyone’s who has open, willing legs and you don’t even want him anyways. You hate him.

And yet, you can’t stop the jealousy percolating in your gut as you sit across the table and watch him shovel her cooking into his face. Finally, on the eighteenth dinner you eat together, Joel has had enough. You’re still wearing a snarky smile from the comment you’ve just made about the gravy being lumpy when he slams his palm down on the table, rattling the plates. Finally. You bite your cheek to stop your smile from growing.

“Can you stop being such a b-” he stops before he calls you the name on the tip of his tongue.

He watches your face as you react to his outburst. Your eyes go wide, your teeth peek out from your ghoulish grin. He stops himself before he can hurl the insult at you. You’re trying to get to him - you have been for weeks - and he’s been up till now able to resist your provocation. He doesn’t want to fight with you, he’s trying to be a good man and show you only the best parts of him. He’s trying to earn your love back. But goddamnit, he’s had a fucking shit day and your constant complaining isn’t making it any better.

He looks back down at his dinner and resumes eating, ignoring your comment. The gravy isn’t lumpy so you’re full of shit, you’re just being miserable because that’s your new normal. You shit all over him from the moment he gets home with dinner every night and then march upstairs and lock yourself away in his old room. Does he deserve to be punished for every shitty thing he’s done to you? Of course he does, but he was hoping you’d be willing to forgive him too. He thought he saw it in your eyes at one point that night at the summer camp, when you were remembering how you loved him once.

Why didn’t you just shoot him when you had the chance? You had the rifle aimed at his heart, all you had to do was pull the trigger. But you didn’t. Maybe you thought death would be too much of a kindness, too easy of a way out. Maybe you knew he’d come back here and face one of the most difficult springs leading this place and that having to figure out a way to slog through it would be a punishment worse than death.

That’s probably an over exaggeration - Joel knows - but sometimes he thinks he’s not cut out for this shit, for leading a community with so many moving parts. He’s the one who collects everyone’s grievances and is relied upon to find the solution for every problem, big or small. Today he got a report from the Mansfield's dairy farm - the same place you temporarily called home - that the milk output would be down this year. Joel cursed at the note sent in Hank’s own hand. The community had grown by just over ten percent from this time last year and more milk was needed, not less. 

He had an afternoon meeting that gave him more bad news; one of his trusted advisors, Peter, had taken stock of his personal supplies after the long winter and found that he was running short on food to feed his large family. He and his wife had taken in 6 kids - between the ages of 7 and 17 - and he half-jokingly told Joel that they were eating him out of house and home. Peter confided that he wasn’t the only one around town who was feeling the pressure of needing this growing season to be bountiful while also acknowledging that the shorter spring was going to hinder the yields.

After the bloody night at the lakeside camp Joel got to thinking about the safety and security of the community. He’d been distracted from his priorities for far too long, and he began implementing new rules as soon as he got back. He ordered that everyone start taking inventory of their stocks and sending him reports, in addition to letting him know what their upcoming seasons looked to yield and what was needed to ensure success. He did away completely with the evening meetings, declaring it safer to have everyone back home before darkness fell. Instead, he spends all his days meeting with people at an office he set up at the town-square, or traveling all around the valley to meet with people at their homes.

Joel had the idea to set up a cafeteria-style system utilizing two old restaurants - which Kerri and Tess staffed - that works to feed residents in place of the meals everyone used to meet up for on certain evenings during the week. Most families prefer to keep their own food stocks and prepare their own meals but everyone donates to the community as a whole, and so there is the ability for anyone who doesn’t want to or doesn’t know how to cook, to get a hot meal any day of the week. The only payments accepted are - as it always is in the Valley - an exchange of goods or services.

These changes have been in effect for over two weeks but Joel is still plagued by worries for the safety of his flock, including you. He doesn’t want to have brought you back here just to put you in more danger. So it was the cherry on top of a bad day when, just as he was about to head to the cafeteria and grab food, Tess stopped by to let him know that they’d just done inventory at the armory and found less guns and ammo than they’d had at last count. 

Joel remembers the promise of help you’d made to the skinny travelers you’d come across like a knife piercing his stomach. He knows they aren’t the ones raiding his armory - thanks to you - but that there are others like them out there. People desperate and willing to go to extreme lengths for survival. People who have perhaps already found their way past the Valley’s defenses. 

So to say Joel is stressed today might be an understatement. Still, he doesn’t want to fight with you. He wants you to be his comfort, his shelter in the storm. He wants you to be his rock. But lately it seems as though all you want to be is the rocky coastline his ship wrecks itself against. 

He stays silent the rest of the meal, not wanting to sink to your depths and get involved in another fight that ends in food all over the floor, cursing, and slamming doors. He stands to take your plate and when he sees that you’ve scraped all the perfectly good gravy off the food you ate - leaving behind a congealed puddle in the middle of your dish - he feels a twitch behind his eyeball. He’s trying to be a good man. God, he wishes he were a good man.

“If you think you could do better, I’m sure I could find you an apron around here somewhere,” he says.

He sees your smug face turn to his, lips forming a snarl just as he turns away to walk into the kitchen, and hears the scrape of your chair on the floor as you stand up. There’s a long pause and he walks slowly through the archway, waiting to see what your comeback could be, hoping since he took your plate that he left you with nothing to throw.

You feel it, the incandescent heat filling up the empty spaces inside you, alight at the way that you finally coaxed a reaction out of him. His snarky remark, his attention, his ire, focused on you. You hate how much you love it, don’t want to face how fulfilling it is that weeks of a calculated, spiteful attitude is finally paying off. And then a thought grips your heart like ice-cold claws; you still love his attention because you still love him. Then, your fists clench and your stomach coils at his repeated insinuation that you could be his dutiful little housewife, and spend your time in this house cooking and cleaning for him. 

You push away the thoughts that you might hold any affection for him. You don’t love him, you hate him. He’s seen what you’re capable of, he knows who you are. You laid yourself bare to him and yet here you are, stuck in his house with no real purpose, the expectation that you’ll replace the duties of all the women he sent away. You’ll cook, you’ll clean, you’ll get on your knees. Except apparently you don’t have to cook, since Kerri’s still doing that for him. Jealousy burns you from head to toe at the thought of what else she could still be doing for him.

“You said it was just gonna be you and me,” you shout.

He turns and looks into your face, red and scowling, before looking around the room just for good measure. 

“I don’t see anyone else here, do you?” 

He wishes he could be a smart-ass about it but he’s genuinely confused. No one but him has even stepped foot in this house since you came back, he even makes Tess wait on the porch in the mornings. You raise your arm and point violently to the plates in his hands. He looks down. The dinner plates?

“Dinner?” he questions.

You nod your head, yes.

“But that’s just-”

You fold your arms across your chest, pouting further.

“So you don’t want another woman making me dinner?”

You shake your head, no.

“But you don’t want to make me dinner.” It’s not a question, you made the answer pretty clear already.

You answer anyways, shaking your head, no, again.

He opens his mouth to argue and then immediately shuts it. He looks down at the dinner plates, then back up at you. A moment passes as he easily realizes why your anger would be directed at Kerri. She’s not just another woman, she’s the other woman, for all intents and purposes. The one you caught him with when you thought - when he let you think - that he only had eyes for you. He did, he only wanted you, but he was also an asshole accustomed to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. 

He fucked up. He broke your trust - one of the most precious things you’d ever given him - and he acted like it didn’t matter to him. If this is what you want, no more meals from Kerri, he’ll do it. He’s already told himself he’ll give you anything you want. Whatever it takes to get you back.

“Okay,” he says.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you Bug and Beef for helping me with editing this beast. I love you!!

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[yournightmary]

i feel like toxic!ellie williams is good for angst or like ex! ellie williams, i luv ur writing !

Toxic!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, mentions of being drunk/high, cheating, manipulation i guess? just anything you can expect from toxic!Ellie.

AN:: Lowkey inspired by the song below. (sorry if you have to search up a translation)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who at first seems like a really nice person, maybe even too nice. She makes you feel like your life is a movie for like, the first few months and then everything goes to shit.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who is very much a gaslighter. You saw her hanging out with some girl? No you didn’t. You glanced at her phone when she got a ‘come over;)’ notification from an unsaved number? Babe it’s just some spam shit, you know that.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who forbids you from going out without her, while she goes out alone all the time. Yeah, alone…

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who can cry on command. Every time you guys argue she realizes she’s in the wrong midway through the fight and just starts crying. Not in a bawling her eyes out way, just letting out enough tears for you to feel bad and welcome her back into yours arms.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who texts you that she wants to talk something out only to come over and reek of alcohol, maybe even weed. Probably just falls asleep on your couch and by the time you wake up she’s already gone.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who has called you from jail multiple times, full on begging you to bail her out. You always tell her that ‘it’s the time’ but come on, you know it’s not.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who never forgets about your birthday/anniversary. No matter how much you guys fight (or how many times she cheated on you), she’ll always be standing in front of your door with your favorite flowers. And probably weed so you’ll be at least a little relaxed when you notice the hickeys on her neck.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who always places her phone with the screen facing down. She has you on her wallpaper though, so… that’s a win.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who says that kissing isn’t cheating if she doesn’t love the other person. That only applies to her, of course. If you even try to do something like that she’ll be throwing fists.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who got your name tattooed as an apology. In a really visible place too, maybe on her cheekbone or something like that.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who lets other girls flirt with her just to make you jealous. Definitely gives them her number too.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who is the biggest domesticity hater. No making breakfast with her, no going shopping together, no nothing.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who will always pick you up or drive you no matter what- well, if she isn’t drunk or high. So not that often. She tries though:)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who steals gets you expensive jewelry for your birthday. And as an apology for ghosting you for almost a week straight. Kill two birds with one stone, right?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who loves to call you ‘her girl’, even if she has very serious commitment issues. Honestly, she probably wouldn’t even ask you to be her girlfriend- or give your relationship any kind of label.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ toxic!Ellie who kind of takes you for granted. She knows that no matter what she can always come back to you, even if it results in another screaming match.

I love that song, literally my guilty pleasure.

[physalian]

Transformers Prime Appreciation Post

You know what. You know what?? This show has featured in so much of my writing advice, it deserves its own “This show is amazing and has amazing writing and shit you can learn from it to be a better writer” post. It’s streamable on Netflix at the time of this post. I own it on DVD. I have all three seasons on actual, physical discs that I bought new for my DVD collection. That’s how much I love this show.

What is TFP? TFP aired on The Hub network, the joint venture between Hasbro and Discovery Channel that died after MLP ended, I think. We lost cable before that happened. TFP was probably single-handedly sustained by MLP money for a while, like the rest of HBO on GOT.

This show came out when I entered high school and I have extremely vivid memories of some of the constant previews they showed of the season 1 finale 3-parter, to the point where whenever I watch the scenes that were in those teasers, I still get a physical reaction from being bludgeoned over the head with those lines of dialogue.

I used to scroll ahead in the TV guide as far as the scheduled programming allowed, just to catch snippets of what episodes were slated to air within the next month. This show was the shit.

But it was too expensive and its budget got eaten by Friendship is Magic. The bronies ruin everything I guess.

It’s 3 seasons (technically 2.5 since 3 was only greenlit for half its episode count) of near-perfection and a tv-movie. There are a few weak episodes, sure, and one absolute dud of a clipshow episode, but there are no awful episodes. There ain’t no “Great Divide” for this show.

Why you should watch it:

1. A “kids” show that absolutely takes itself seriously

One of the Autobots dies 5 minutes into the series and it’s the inciting incident for the entire story. He gets blown up, taken prisoner, and then stabbed through his chest by a Decepticon’s fist without warning. He then gets brought back as a zombie, killed again, infects his partner with the zombie juice when she’s trying to save him, and dies for good.

Two main characters get straight-up murdered, long-running characters whose deaths have lofty consequences for the narrative. There’s betrayals, double-agents, robot torture, robots getting eaten alive by scraplets, gaslighting of an amnesiac, near-murders of POWs, near-murders of fan-favorites who get so hurt, their recovery spans 4 whole episodes, attempted child murder, terrorism, and mad science.

But there is also some heavy emotional shit. The surviving partner of the zombie is damaged by his loss for the entire show because she can’t properly manage her grief. There’s characters going on suicide missions to avenge their dead/dying friends, getting beat to shit while a child watches helplessly on the sidelines screaming at them to get up and run through tears. There’s war flashbacks to dead friends and comrades and the terror and fallout of being eons-old soldiers.

There’s quiet moments, too, about grief and loss and living with disability and disfigurement from battlefield wounds. There’s the machinations of a tragic villain, openly and explicitly abused in front of his whole team and who keeps crawling back and groveling at his master’s feet and his internal identity crisis over who he is, if he’s not with his abuser. There’s the fallout of an extremely divisive trolley problem where a normally calm and collected character loses their shit with grief over the decision that was made. There’s the quiet rumblings of dissent and rebellion in the ranks and all the backstabbing that follows.

And there’s clever moments. Rogues and rebels orchestrating complex and interwoven plots to further their agendas. A POW who no one would ever expect to be captured absolutely trouncing their captives and laughing all the while while they free themselves. Characters who always have a backup plan to force others into awful predicaments.

The first episode after the 5-episode mini-movie that opens the show features an A-plot about school science projects, and a B-plot about waking a loyal ‘Con from stasis and trying to convince him to bow down to the ‘Cons’ temp leader, Starscream, while Megatron is elsewhere. It does not end well for him. The very next episode features robots getting eaten alive by alien metal termites.

2. Depth of Character

Beyond the actual plot, the villains might be more compelling characters than the heroes across many arcs and episodes. You’ve got five main autobots for most of the show that generally fit the 5-man band:

Optimus: Leader

Ratchet: Smart Guy

Bulkhead: Tough Guy

Arcee: Lancer

Bumblebee: Heart

Also guest starring the Alien Robot Cowboy Samurai known as Wheeljack, he’s amazing.

These characters have some really rich episodes and arcs, and moments where they have to put their own values, wants, and agendas aside for the greater good or the problem at hand. They feel like real people, for lack of a better word. They laugh, they cry, they rage, they grieve, and since the show is one long storyline, what happens seemingly inconsequentially in season 1 will come back to haunt them in season 3.

But then you have the villains, an extremely dysfunctional team of “every man for himself, we’re all not here because we like each other, but because we hate the Autobots,” and I can tell from the fanfic that the ‘Cons are the much more popular characters to write about.

Megatron: The fascist narcissist warlord

Starscream: His scheming SIC both too smart and too dumb for his own good

Soundwave: The utterly badass TIC comms chief who never loses and is insanely, fiercely loyal to the cause

KnockOut: The absolutely gay-as-fuck cosmedic surgeon/chief of medical voiced by Daran Norris, who’s only design requirement was to make him a sexy sportscar, and they ended up with a cherry red Aston Martin. One of his first lines in the show is "*whistle* Sweet rims” at Optimus in truck mode.

Breakdown: KO’s himbo, canon* boyfriend with some of the best, cringey puns

Airachnid: Arcee’s arch nemesis, the only other female transformer, a “love to loathe her” type

And others down the line for both teams.

*Canon insofar as a kids show on a kids network allows a la “we’ve given you as much subtext as we can, do the rest”.

KO is technically my favorite but it’s a tossup between many and that is a feat, especially when they’re the villains. They are all extremely compelling characters.

3. The Story

With some exceptions, episodes don’t happen in isolation. Most of season 1 is a bit random with a foggy throughline, but season 2 is utterly amazing, sans that one clipshow the producers probably insisted on.

Season 2 is the show’s finest hour and without spoiling anything: The end of season 1 sees this database that had been in the ‘Cons possession suddenly now with the means to decode and decrypt whatever’s locked behind it. The database contains coordinates on Earth of a myriad of confiscated weapons, ancient relics, and the like and the entire season is one big fetch quest with both sides racing and beating the shit out of each other to decode coordinates and retrieve the relics before the other side.

The macguffins are pretty cool in their own right (alien mustard gas, a giant Final Fantasy sword, an alien nuke, a phase-shifter) but it’s the intensity of the story and the action and drama that happens around the various quests that is so amazing.

At one point, the show takes four episodes to tackle a fetch quest across four separate relics that involves the entire cast on both sides and the two rogues all gunning for their targets at the same time, ending with one character critically injured that grinds the whole plot to a stop.

The show is one long story, as I mentioned, where something that happens in episode 2 shows up again as critically important in episode 40 and that’s a heck of an achievement on the writers’ part, making it all feel like it was planned that way from the start, even though it wasn’t.

Season 3 is… lesser, mostly because it has half as many episodes because the show was canceled. However, the writers knew about the cancellation early enough to still deliver a satisfying story, and wrap up loose ends with a tv-movie that is also pretty good.

Episode-to-episode there’s definitely a mixed bag of what kind of tone you’ll get. It’s still a kids show and there are human characters so there are some lesser episodes with the humans’ lives as the focus and the Autobots running support. Then you’ll have small-screen perfection, but like I said, there’s never a single episode of story (not clipshow) that I skip upon rewatch, no matter how many times I’ve seen it. The second “clipshow” episode is far and gone above the first, told through the eyes of a character as they’re on trial, only their scenes through the story, as they await judgment that might see them executed.

4. The Production Value

The majority of the animation budget rightfully went to the transformers themselves, which left the environments and the human characters a little rough around the edges. But you came for alien robots and before I got this show on DVD, I streamed crap quality episodes online. Once I saw these characters in full HD color, for the first time since it aired on TV, I was blown away. The reflections are, bar none, the best part. Which seems like a strange hill to die on but these are shiny metal giants. There’s some shots where you can see the reactions of other characters reflected hazily in the chest plates of the speaking character, and this is kids animated TV.

Some episodes do stand out, possibly because they changed studios, but some do have some off-kilter coloring or shadows, but you wouldn’t notice if you’re not like me and have picked some scenes apart frame by frame.

The music, also, is amazing. It’s grand and epic and far and gone from the 80s synthesizers, with a few choir tracks thrown in. The foley and sound design can get a little gratuitous with the metal-on-metal squeals, but none of it ever feels out of place.

I bought the directors’ commentary without knowing it for seasons 1 and 3 and they talked about having all the digital screens in the backgrounds of both bases constantly moving and showing data, not just static, blank images, and it really ups the feel of the quality and care put into the show when there’s always something cool to look at in every frame.

There are also some money shots. At one point there’s a fight that demands Optimus and Megatron join forces and with zero dialogue between them, only choreography in the span of about 25 seconds of animation shows you that these two really were old friends, old allies, old confidants. Their moves are mirrored, back to back, showing that Megatron clearly taught Optimus how to fight and this shot, the one at the top of the post, is too good to not spoil.

5. The Writing

Beyond the overall arcs, I mentioned in my “How to make your writing less stiff” post that the dialogue in this show is stellar. Due to animation budgets, they didn’t have the means to fully render a huge variety of environments, and that includes anything on Cybertron. So, when necessary, outside of when characters actually go to Cybertron later in the show, they use some beautiful matte paintings and voiceover narration by Ratchet, absolutely dumping exposition on the audience in spectacular fashion.

I have the director’s commentary. I know Ratchet’s monologues were a thing of beauty. They also had the cast all recording their dialogue at once, standing in a big U for more natural line deliveries.

The actual writing though, from the different ways the characters speak to the lore, the backstories, how the show can be a horror trip one minute and a kids’ science fair the next, showed incredible variety and flexibility in the writers’ room.

Optimus’ lines remain my favorite because they’re just that juicy, but then you have characters like Starscream, a perpetual schemer who loves to hear himself talk, pontificating whenever he can about his plans and how much he hates Megatron and how self-important he is. Or other righteous characters who use Big Words like Optimus that don’t feel out of place against somebody like KnockOut who says stuff like “I like the way I look in steel-belted radials” or Wheeljack who clearly learned English from watching Clint Eastwood movies.

Or, a later character, Shockwave, the most “robotic” of the robots and very poncy and scientific with the way he talks and interprets the world, with most of his lines including whether or not a character’s choices were “logical”.

This show is fantastic at creating tension out of mundanity and keeping you on the edge of your seat for nail-biting action scenes. You feel the anguish and the grief with the characters. Their rage and elation and devastation.

Some faults, because I love this show and I can recognize them

The human characters are… well, teenagers. Miko is pretty divisive, you’ve got the camp of “wah she’s a girl and she’s annoying” and just people who don’t find them as compelling. Which, fair. Their animation is a bit gummy and sometimes they disappear for entire episodes and their human world arcs are kind of abandoned. They’re not the best, but this isn’t about humans, it’s about transformers.

Due to probably time constraints with the show being canceled, some transformers’ arcs also felt abandoned or not given their due time to shine (of which fanfic has made painfully clear and rectified). It’s a very tight plot, but there are some dangling loose ends.

Sometimes it is incredibly in-your-face that this is a show meant to sell toys, particularly in season 3 with the whole uh, “we must become beast hunters” and the soft rebrand.

There exists a subplot of C-list villains, human militants who want to dissect cybertronian biology and make weapons. While some of their episodes are absolute bangers, you can tell the writers were getting sick of them before they’re finally written out of the show.

And a few awkward lines here and there.

Other cool shit if nothing else has convinced you

No love triangle or romantic subplot for the two female robots and one of the female humans. You can read one of Arcee’s relationships as romantic or platonic, but she is far beyond just “the girl” of the group, she’s a badass. The other romantic subplot is between a mom who’s deadbeat ex-husband is inexplicably missing, and a pot-bellied Army vet, and it’s really sweet and healthy.

(I think) incredible representation of characters with disability, in Bumblebee’s various war scars and his mutism.

The Gays. I swear there’s a page in the art book (of which I am desperate to find a copy of) for KnockOut and the caption of his art legit says something like “we made him too sexy, oops”.

So. Many. Puns. Puns that know they’re awful and relish in it. Dad jokes, too.

Ratchet losing his mind over how human children can get “twisted limbs and metal burn” if they do a dangerous thing before realizing the latter does not apply. Ratchet losing his mind in general. Just all of the cranky medic. Jeffrey Combs can make a phone book entertaining.

One of the last times we’ll probably get Peter Cullen and Frank Welker together doing Optimus and Megatron, the OGs. And also, one tiny moment where Frank has to say “treasure” and he still flubs it just like he does for Fred in Scooby Doo.

Consistency between character injuries. If Optimus’ sword breaks in a battle, whenever he summons it before he can have time to fix it, it’s still broken in ensuing shots.

An episode of zombies infecting the Decepticons’ ship and Starscream and KnockOut accidentally admitting they love each other while cowering in terror, while also calling back to a different pair of characters they did not witness saying the exact same lines.

Optimus transforming, ramming Megatron in the chest in truck mode, booting him off a cliff, and using his tires to melt rubber in Megatron’s face once they land because he is pissed.

All of Starscream’s immensely satisfying comeuppance for situations he gets himself into.

Using the murder termites for good in a rather horrifying death of a random goon.

Megatron’s hate boner for Optimus that clearly shows how badly these two don’t actually want to kill each other, despite having a million chances to do so, because like Batman and the Joker, “you and I are destined to do this for eternity,” and killing one would leave the other alone, after eons of fighting.

The gorgeous matte paintings.

—

Somebody on here once drew KnockOut with Autobot blue eyes and I have not been able to find that post since. If anyone sees it, please send it to me, it was gorgeous.

Now go watch this show. You can do it in a weekend.