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cirtusmistress · 7 months ago

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Hurricane

Authors Note: I wrote this about two years ago and posted it to AO3, and never cross-posted it to Tumblr. But given I want to get back into writing, I may as well start by posting what I got! So enjoy my first fic, two years late.

Ship ~ Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader

Tags ~ Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader is Competent, Storm prep, Brahms is Scared of Storms, Touch-Starved Brahms Heelshire, Reader Replaces Greta Evans, Minor Injuries, Doll Brahms Heelshire, One Shot, Gender-Neutral Pronouns

AO3 Crosspost

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“A storm? Like, a thunderstorm? Or is it worse?” You asked. You’d been working for the Heelshire’s for around two months now. And though they’d left you with very detailed instructions on how to care for their beloved son, they had never brought up things such as house care. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying this long. Not into Autumn.

“A full on hurricane.” Malcolm answered, setting the last of the grocery bags down. He continued, “The worst one we’ve had in years apparently. They’re predicting outages and downed trees. I can help you secure the windows and doors if you’d like?” He offered. A sweet gesture. An olive branch of friendship. But you knew better than to take it.

During your short time at the Heelshire estate, and caring for Brahms, you’d learned a great many things. The most crucial being that whenever someone stayed around too long and stole your attention away from the doll you cared for, there was hell to pay. In one instance you found the dining room in complete disarray after simply inviting Malcolm in for tea, during a rare social moment for you. The worst case was when a friend of yours stopped by. They were a globetrotter, and seeing as you already had residence found it simpler to just stay with you. A mistake. One night was enough to send Brahms into the worst tantrum you’d ever seen. Multiple rooms destroyed, a window had been broken, and he had stolen your friend's passport. Your friendship didn’t last long after that. After all, who was to believe that a doll could cause so much harm?

“Thank you, Malcolm, but I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with a few storms in my life, I’ll manage.” You replied. Malcolm studied you for a moment. Likely trying to read you, sniff out any signs of dishonesty. But, there were none. Just that warm smile that could melt anyone's heart. He gave a sigh of defeat and nodded.

“If you say so. Just give me a call if you need anything. I’ll come check on you when the hurricane passes.” With that he gave you a wave and headed back to his truck. You muttered a soft thanks, finally returning to your chores.

Brahms sat in the kitchen where he’d been waiting. Like he was listening to your conversation. You’d grown used to this odd job of yours. Caring for a doll as if it were human. Though you’d always figured there was more to this situation then most believed. You’d heard of people using dolls to cope with loss, the concept wasn’t lost on you. But for a couple well into their later years? And there were just.. Too many small things. Even in the rules. Playing music loud, reading in a loud clear voice, leaving food in the freezer. Food which you knew was going missing.

But the biggest tell was an accident. It had been about a month into the job. You’d actually begun to believe Brahms was a child's spirit trapped in the doll. What with him moving around on his own, and leaving you little offerings, and once saying your goddamn name when he was upset. But then, just by accident as you were putting Brahms to bed, you hit your foot against the wall. It had hurt so badly you thought you’d broken a toe. But what stood out in your mind even now was the sound the wall made. It didn’t make the thud you knew from stubbing your toe time and time again in youth. The wall sounded hollow. There had been an echo. Now you knew some older houses had hollow walls. Normally the cavities between the two layers were used for insulation. But that echo.. That wasn’t a normal hollow wall.

After that you’d started paying closer attention to the house and Brahms as you went about your day. Watching and listening. Countless nights where you’d lay in bed and just listen. You’d hear shuffling, the rare footstep like someone had stumbled. Once you swore you heard breathing. You noticed how many rooms had large paintings or cabinets, your size or larger. For a while you thought you were going mad. There was no way in hell that an elderly couple had been keeping their son in the walls for twenty years. But then you learned of the Heelshire’s deaths. Suicides. So many things pointing to something you didn’t quite know how to feel about. On one hand, you were now basically the sole guardian of a doll who was actually a stand-in for the hypothetical twenty-eight year old man in the walls. On the other, Brahms was now completely alone after twenty years of isolation. Alone, save for you. Sweet, kind, loving you who treated a porcelain doll like a real boy. Who read to him every night and tucked him in with a kiss. You couldn’t just leave him. No matter what Brahms was.

“We’re in for a storm, Brahms. I guess that means we’re having a slumber party downstairs tonight.” You cortled, putting the last of the groceries away. You took note of how little perishables Malcolm had dropped off. Thinking ahead. You wouldn’t be able to cook for however long the power was gone, if it did go that was.

You turned back to the doll, scooping him up and taking him with you. You figured the downstairs office would be the safest place. The windows were relatively small and were less likely to break. It would do for your purposes. You sat Brahms in the corner and got to work moving the desk out of the way. You’d have to lay down blankets and things to sleep on. You doubted the old fashioned Heelshire’s were going to have something like an air mattress.

You spent a good hour doing basic storm prep. Dragging some old blankets and comforters out of wardrobes and laying them down on the floor. Filling up buckets and the tubs with water. Getting crossword puzzles and cards. By the time that was all done, it had begun to rain outside. The calm before the storm you supposed. The last thing on your storm checklist was lanterns. This was an old house, you were certain that the Heelshire’s would have oil lamps somewhere. Naturally the first place you wanted to check was the attic.. But you knew better. After all, if your theory was right you didn’t want to scare the poor man by invading his space. So you settled on checking the cellar first.

Only issue was, you really couldn’t bring Brahms. You knew he was never meant to be alone but taking a fragile doll into a dark cellar was too risky. He’d have to stay upstairs. You were hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.

“Brahms, I’m headed to the cellar. I’ll be quick, I promise.” You hummed. With that, you headed down alone. You had been right, it was dark and musty and damp. You started to wonder if there was mold down here. You flicked on the old dingy light which surprisingly still worked. You began digging through the clutter. Old things like furniture, clothes never worn since the sixties, even some art pieces. It was like a time capsule. You didn’t have time to walk through history though, you needed to find anything that could give light without the use of electricity. Lower and lower you went through the piles, until finally you found something. A pair of old oil lamps and a small can of oil to go with it. You muttered a soft thanks, pulling them out from beneath wicker chairs. But what was behind them gave you pause.

The bricks were singed. Dark burn marks that showed age. Your eyes followed the marks. The furniture in here had covered them, but now they were exposed after your rummaging. They flowed over the bricks going upwards. They almost looked beautiful. But that beauty hid a tragedy that plagued this home. You knew why they’d been hidden with so much clutter.

Your thoughts were interrupted when something crashed behind you, making you scream and jump. When you turned you saw one of the mirrored vanities stored away had been smashed. The mirror shards now littered the floor. And on the steps sat the Brahms doll, staring you down. It took you a moment to catch your breath, realizing your error. Brahms didn’t want you uncovering his painful memories. And he’d made sure you knew that. Gathering yourself, you pushed the lamps aside and began to put all that you’d moved back into its place. Covering those painful memories back up, letting them remain hidden and forgotten. Once finished you picked the lamps and the can up and approached Brahms. Kneeling to his height you gave an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry Brahms,” you spoke with such a genuine tone of sincerity, “I shouldn’t have snooped around. But look! I found the lamps we’ll need!” You held up the lamps, jostling them a little so they clinked together. Of course the doll remained frozen. But just faintly, almost missable under the sound of rain pouring down, you heard panting. Like someone coming down from a rage.

“I’ll clean up the shards, then we’ll head back upstairs, okay?” You’d started speaking to Brahms out loud more after you’d learned about the walls. Feeding your own delusions some would say. You held your word, starting to pick up the larger shards and resting them on top of the vanity. The smaller ones you just brushed away with some loose fabric you found. You didn’t really plan on coming back down here anyways, not after that outburst.

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You always found time moves slower when there was a storm. The day seemed to drag on as the storm became worse and worse. The wind had picked up and those raindrops just kept getting larger. It was loud, even on the bottom floor. You had settled on just simple sandwiches for dinner, making sure to put a ‘spare’ in the freezer. And after that you’d just settled in to do a crossword. It was.. Probably the first time in weeks where you felt safe. There was something about the dim lighting and blankets that just felt right. Secure. Warm. Brahms sat under the covers and you’d even given him a crossword book of his own. Slightly cruel, knowing he couldn’t move with you there with him. But at least you’d been talking to him. Funny, you always struggled talking with real people. But this doll turned you into a chatterbox. Maybe it was the simple fact no one was attempting to speak over you. Like someone was actually listening.

Your tranquility was disrupted by a large gust of wind, followed by a crash that made the manor shake. And what sounded like a scream. It had come from upstairs. Something inside you just knew. That crash was in the attic. You were running upstairs before you even had time to think. Up the stairs, and finding the attic ladder down. You were unsure if it had come undone itself or if someone had moved it. That didn’t matter as you climbed up. It was your first time in the attic but you didn’t get a chance to explore. A branch had flown off a tree and crashed through the wall, opening it up to the elements. You could only act, no time for clear thoughts. You grabbed a nearby blanket and started to desperately try to cover the hole, but another gale blew you back. There was nothing you could do to patch it right now, not unless you wanted to risk injury or worse, death.

Your rattled mind returned to the scream you had heard. Or at least you thought you had heard. Looking around you didn’t see a body but there was a bed up here. A tv, a sink.. Someone was living here. You didn’t have time to celebrate your theory being proven. Where was Brahms? Your eyes flitted around, finally landing back on the ladder. Somehow you had missed the very clear bloody handprint on it during your panic. But if Brahms was bleeding.. Oh God, how badly was he injured? Quickly you descended the steps, trying to find any sign of him. You were too panicked to even fear this man who was hiding from you for so long. All you knew somewhere in this house he was hurt and bleeding.

“Brahms?” You called, starting to check every room. Could he have climbed back into the walls? Fearing you discovering him? You checked everything on the top floor and worked down, calling his name in a more desperate tone with each exclamation. But finally you found him. Turning the corner back into the downstairs study. There he sat, in place of the doll. It wasn’t what you expected to see. The mask was shocking at first glance. You were momentarily stun locked. He was bigger than you anticipated, even sitting down. Finally you snapped out of it when he looked at you, and held out his bleeding hand. It had a sizable gash across the palm.

“It hurts,” He spoke in a child-like voice. The voice you’d heard months ago. His head drooped a touch as he spoke, “Can you fix it?” He asked. Finally, after another beat, you nodded. Your mouth felt dry. Too dry to speak. In the kitchen you found the first aid, and took it back with you. He hadn’t moved from his place on the makeshift bed. You knelt beside him, and carefully took his hand in yours. Up close you could see the burn scars that ran along his entire right side. Suddenly his outburst in the cellar made much more sense.. Carefully you applied some rubbing alcohol to the cut. That made Brahms whimper and pull his hand back. The look in his eyes behind that mask was murderous.

“I’m sorry, Brahms, but I have to.. To clean it.” You choke out. Your mouth is still far too dry. You hold your hand out for his again, giving him those warm eyes again. He would trust you wouldn’t he? After all, you had been the one to care for him all this time. He looked at your hand, then back to your face. For a moment Brahms almost seemed entranced by your eyes before conceding and resting his hand back in yours.

“Good boy..” You said, starting to clean the wound. He made a noise akin to that of a moan at your praise. You supposed you were the first person to touch him or give him praise in years. He was likely touch starved. Once the cut was clean, you grabbed the bandages and began to wrap his hand. He kept watching you. His breath was heavy behind that mask.

Finally you were done, and you let his hand go. Brahms examined your work, how carefully you’d wrapped him, and the cute little bow you’d tied it off with. As he studied his hand, you studied him. Despite the childish voice he put on, he was very much an adult. You could see his beard poking out from beneath the porcelain. He was actually rather handsome, you’d admit. The rain picked up again, and the lights began flickering. Brahms jumped and quickly moved closer to you. Before you knew it his head was hiding in your lap. Apparently he was afraid of the storm. Made sense, it had attacked him after all. Carefully you began to stroke his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“We’ll be okay. Just a little wind and rain, that’s all. Maybe we can play cards? Or I can tell you a story?” You offered. Just trying to find anything to distract him from the weather outside damaging his home. Slowly he nodded, not lifting his head from your waist. Actually his grip seemed to grow tighter. You could feel him inhaling a little too deeply, and his hands started to squeeze your thighs as he held tight. You felt bad thinking how unsurprised that made you. But he had lived in the walls for twenty years.. And you were likely the first person he’d had stick around.

You settled back on to the makeshift mattress, Brahms never letting you go. He shuffled up a bit, so his face was resting against your chest. You kept stroking his hair, picking your brain for a story to tell. Something romantic as you had a wild feeling that was right up his alley. You recounted the story of Pride and Prejudice, not skipping any details of the classic story. Brahms seemed all too enthralled by the tale. He even began to kick his feet in the air when you recounted the climax between Elizabeth and the beloved Mr.Darcy. Just before you could finish though, the lights finally gave out. Brahms tensed up against you and again hugged you tight against him. You let out a wheeze. You needed to get the lamps but he seemed content just smothering you until the lights came back themselves. Finally you managed to sit up as he continued to cling like a baby koala.

“Brahms, sweetheart, I need to light the lamps.” You manage to get out. But that seems to make his grip tighter. He shakes his head, face pulling your shirt back and forth.

“No. No lamps. I don’t want any fire in the house.” He whimpered. Your heart broke a little. That night seemed to have never left Brahms.. You stroked his back soothingly before trailing your hands to cup his cheeks.

“Brahms, we need light. It’ll be okay, I can work an oil lamp-” You were cut off as Brahms slammed you back down against the floor. Even with the cushioning it knocked the air from your lungs. Your hands fell from his face beside yourself as his own gripped your shoulders.

“No fire in the house. Never again.” His voice was no longer that high falsetto. Instead it was deep, aggressive. He sounded his age. You gasped for air, before nodding. Tears had pricked your eyes. You felt a twinge of guilt as you questioned whether or not he’d hurt you.

Finally you found your voice again, “Okay Brahms. No lamps, I promise. Do you want another story?” You asked in a feeble attempt to calm him back down. Lucky for you it seemed to work. Brahms grip on your shoulders loosened, and he returned his head to your chest. He nodded and urged you on to tell your story.

A shaky sigh escaped you. You thanked your lucky stars that you could calm him so easily. As you began telling another story, the rain and wind outside crashed into the manor. You knew Brahms would never harm you. Not you. Not his caretaker. But you began to wonder. How long would this storm last? Suddenly, in the dark, the room no longer felt secure.

#brahms heelshire x reader #horror x reader #slasher x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #sfw fanfic #comfort #minor injuries #canon typical violence #tw violence #one shot

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

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Yearling - Ch. 24: Return

You're found in the snow. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-23 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Allusion to past SA, result of canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 5.4k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Joel!”

He was so singularly focused on getting to the stable he didn’t even see Maria trekking through the snow toward him. He barely heard her.

“Joel!”

He didn’t stop or go to meet her. He just went inside. Ares was gone, he’d been here last night, you’d taken him it had to have been you.

He cursed himself for not staying outside your door. He should have known that you would leave now, that the pain he’d caused you wouldn’t have stopped you. He should have fucking stayed, should have fucking held onto you even as you tried to shove him away.

“Joel,” Maria ran into the stable, closing the snow outside.

“Not the time, Maria,” he said, going to get a saddle from the tack room.

She ignored him and she stalked over to him, thrusting the bundle she was carrying into his arms. He frowned. It took him a second to realize it was the coat you’d claimed as your own, the one that had been his once. The knife that felt like had been in his stomach since you pushed him away twisted.

“I don’t know what the fuck happened,” she said. “But she’s gone and…”

“When did you see her?” He looked up from the coat, ignoring the pinch at the back of his throat. “Did she say where she was goin’?”

“A few hours ago,” she shook her head. “I should have come to find you sooner but… She seemed so upset, I didn’t think sending you out after her right away was the best thing.”

“Did she say where she was goin’?” He asked again, even though he knew the answer. He knew.

“Going after the raiders,” she said. “I don’t know that she’ll find them but…”

“I’ll find her,” Joel cut her off. “I’m bringing her back, not comin’ back without her.”

Joel took Sergeant and started off. You’d left a few hours ahead of him but the tracks you made on Ares were deep enough that they were still visible even through the fresh snowfall, a steady groove in the powder that covered the earth.

It was miserable, the wind biting and harsh, and Joel found himself worried about you. You’d left the coat. He hoped you’d taken another one, that you were warm at least. He wanted to be able to push his horse faster but the snow was too deep. You were a better rider than him, you and Ares had a unique bond after the extra work he’d required to fully train him. You knew how far you could push him better than Joel did any of the horses. You’d be able to ride harder and faster for longer than he could.

But when the storm eased in the early hours of the morning after the sun rose, Joel found himself missing it. The howl of the wind and the pressure of the air had been a distraction. Something to focus on besides you, besides the way you looked at him, besides what you must think of him now. Something besides the danger you were in that he hadn’t been there to protect you from.

Joel kept riding through the day, even though he could feel his horse growing exhausted. He almost felt guilty for not caring. If he couldn’t get to you in time, couldn’t bring you home, what did it matter?

But, hours after it grew dark, he knew he would need to stop soon. He’d been riding for too long, if he wasn’t careful Sergeant would just collapse under the strain and then he’d never find you.

He was just considering finding a place to rest for a few hours when he saw it, an unusual shape breaking up the moonlight reflecting off the fallen snow. He frowned and then the darkest part of the shape moved, a long neck and large head lifting from near the ground.

“Fuck,” Joel jumped off his horse and almost tripped, trying to move through the snow faster than was really safe. He fell to his knees next to you and Ares huffed and nudged Joel’s shoulder. You were covered in blood, your skin so much lighter than he’d ever seen it, your body terrifyingly still. But there was just the lightest fog in front of your lips, the only sign he had that you were still breathing.

“It’s OK Baby,” he said softly, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I’ve got you, you’re OK. Gonna get you out of here, get you all warmed up, it’s OK.”

He lifted you as delicately into his body, a small, pained noise slipping from you as he did. Your eyes stayed closed. He just held you against him for a moment, clutching you close, trying to figure out what to do.

It didn’t seem like he could make it to Jackson like this with you. You were too fragile, you’d at the very least need to get warmed up first, something to stabilize you. But if all this blood was yours, you needed a doctor. Joel couldn’t help you through something this bad on his own, you needed someone who knew what they were doing.

Ares shifted in the snow, moving his large body so his neck was wrapped around your back and his head went over Joel’s shoulder. He was scared, too.

“OK Sweetheart,” Joel whispered. “Gonna get you somewhere warm, then we’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”

He strapped your pack to Sergeant and set you as delicately as he could on Ares before urging the animal to his feet. Your horse moved gingerly, somehow aware that you were precious cargo and that you needed his protection. Joel patted his neck and Ares huffed at him.

“I care about her, too,” he said. “We’ll take care of her.”

Joel tied Sergeant’s reins to Ares’ saddle horn and then mounted up behind you, pulling you back against him. He tucked the front of his coat around you as far as he could reach, the back of your coat cold and wet, before heading off in the direction Joel thought the nearby town was in.

He was relieved when he was right, stopping at the first house he saw on the outskirts of town that had a chimney. He tied the horses to the front porch and carried your limp body inside, thankful for the little groan you made when he moved you. Pain meant you were alive. He’d take that.

The house he was in had clearly been raided at some point, furniture overturned, cabinet doors open and hanging off the hinges. But that made them easier to break off and he piled up what he could find quickly in the fireplace before checking to make sure the flue was open. The fire caught quickly and Joel moved the horses into the garage before coming back to check on you.

With some light and warmth, he was able to figure things out. You’d been stabbed in the shoulder, the wound vicious and jagged. Your clothes were wet with snow and blood and your body was so limp and lifeless that Joel kept checking your pulse or placing his palm on your chest to feel it rise and fall with your breaths.

He pulled blankets and sleeping bags out of the packs, making sure they were dry before setting them near the fire to warm up. He held his hands near the flames for a moment and looked down at you with a sigh.

“M’sorry about this,” he said, unzipping your coat, a sickening tightness in his stomach. “But I can’t get you warm in wet clothes, Baby, I gotta take all this off…”

He tried to look at you as little as he could as he undressed you. In a way, it was almost helpful that you were bloody and limp. It made it easy to see your skin and not think about how much he wanted you. Even if you weren’t hurt, it would have been wrong to look at you that way, wrong because you didn’t want it.

You’re just like them.

Once you were undressed, he wrapped you in the blankets and set you near the fire before he found an old pot in the kitchen. He went outside and filled it with snow before bringing it inside and setting it over the fire, melting it and warming the water. He cleaned you as best he could and bandaged your shoulder before tending to the horses and hoping that you’d feel warm when he came back inside. But you were still cold, your breaths still shallow, your limbs still limp, your head still lolling lifelessly to the side.

“No, no, come on, Baby,” his hands ranged over you, trying to see if there was something that he missed. “You can’t die on me out here, not like this, come on…”

He stripped off his coat and shirt and cast them aside before lying beside you, turning you so your front was pressed against his, your skin cold and clammy on his. He pulled a blanket over the two of you and held you close and hoped that you’d forgive him for this, too. Christ, he needed you to forgive him for all of it.

He held you until morning and the sun was high and the fire was low, your breath warm and wet and steady against his chest. You were warmer now, your body curving into his instead of listless and empty. But you weren’t waking up.

“Hey,” he said quietly, pulling a hand out from below the blankets to smooth your hair back. “C’mon, Baby. Time to wake up. Need to get you back to Jackson. Come on now.”

You didn’t move, your eyelids didn’t even flutter.

“OK,” he said, more to himself than to you after trying to rouse you for a few minutes. “Let’s see if we can’t get some water in you, see if that helps.”

Joel built the fire back up and went outside for more snow, checking on the horses again while it melted over the flames. He dressed you in his shirt and sat you up, delicately tipping your head back and trickling the water into your mouth. You instinctively swallowed it, at least. A good sign. Or so he thought, anyway. He didn’t really know.

He ate what he felt like he could keep down, stomach in too tight of a knot for it to be much at all. He wished he knew what the fuck to do. Was it safe to move you yet? Was it better to stay here with you until your strength was up or better to bring you to Jackson himself and get you to the doctor?

It didn’t help, knowing that you wouldn’t want him with you if you were conscious. It made him question everything. Just a few days ago, back when you trusted him, he could have done this. He would have known that you’d understand, that you’d feel some sense of comfort because he was there for this at all.

Now, it seemed like everything he did hurt you. You’d left Jackson alone because of him, had broken down because of him. He was trying to help you, protect you, but knew you wouldn’t want his hands on you, wouldn’t trust him to make these choices for you.

He just didn’t have another option.

“Tomorrow,” he said as he looked out the window. It was already after noon. Even if you were healthy and able to ride at your normal pace, there was no way you’d be back to town before night fell and there wasn’t much between here and there. There was no guarantee he’d find a place to hole up for the night. “Ride back tomorrow.”

You were still pale and washed out. He gave you more water and arranged you in front of the fire again, pained little groans coming from you as he did.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” he said quietly, curling around you again. You unconsciously pressed yourself against him, your face in his chest, and breathed deep. “Sorry I keep… I just keep hurtin’ you and I’m not trying to I just… I never wanted to hurt you. Never.”

He just held you and let his mind drift. He tried not think about what would happen if he’d chosen wrong. How he’d find a way to live with that failure, too. Instead, he thought of you whole and happy and safe back in Jackson. Playing guitar on his front porch, bouncing William on your leg in the mess hall, cracking a joke with his brother on patrol, teaching Ellie about riding at the stables. He wondered if he could crawl inside a memory like that if he tried hard enough. He’d shoved memories of Sarah away so quickly and fully as soon as she was gone, he hadn’t even tried then. He knew better now.

Even if he couldn’t really live inside a moment like that, he wondered if he could surround himself in it enough that everything else fell away. In the end, did it really matter? If he drove himself mad with longing but he was so mad that he had what he wanted, did it make a difference?

He wasn’t sure.

“Joel.”

Your voice was so soft that, for a moment, he thought he imagined it. But your hand moved to his side, fingers sinking into his skin.

“Joel…”

He heard you that time. He pulled back from you enough to see your face. Your eyes were still closed, your face drawn into a tight grimace. But you still seemed out of it.

“You’re OK,” he said gently, brushing your hair back. But he realized, when his hand touched your forehead, that you were warm. More than warm, you were hot to the touch. He hadn’t noticed it in your body, writing off the heat as a result of the two of you wrapped up together near a fire. But your head hadn’t been under blankets or against him and you were burning up. “Fuck, hang on Baby…”

“Hurts,” you mumbled, eyes still closed but you tried weakly to pull yourself back against him.

“What hurts?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calm. What if he’d missed something? What if you were dying here, in his arms, because he’d failed? What if he’d have to hold your body, too? “Can you tell me what hurts?”

You just groaned a little and tried to burrow closer to him.

“Hey,” he delicately pulled you back again, the pained look on your face sharper. “Need you to tell me what hurts, OK?” Your frown deepened. He sighed and brushed his thumb over your shoulder, making you whimper. “That what hurts?”

You just nodded and he pulled the arm that you’d been using as a pillow out from below you earning him another little groan as he nudged you delicately onto your back. He carefully unwound the bandage on your shoulder until the wound was exposed and winced at the sight of it. The skin around it was angry and inflamed, the injury itself swollen and oozing.

“Fuck,” he swore, glancing up at the window. It was dark. Moving you like this, in a place he didn’t know when he couldn’t see shit, wasn’t safe. “Alright… In the morning. Just… just keep hanging in there, we’re headin’ back in the morning…”

“Don’t leave me,” you opened your eyes, squinting against the firelight, and reached the hand from your uninjured side out for him. He took it, squeezed it. “Please…”

“Not…” his voice cracked a little. “Not leaving you. Never leaving you.”

You nodded ever so slightly and went limp again, leaving him clutching your wrist like a talisman, counting the rhythm of your pulse. It was steady.

Joel didn’t sleep. He kept almost obsessive watch over you, over the rise and fall of your chest, over the temperature of your skin, over the pained expressions that came and went from your features. You didn’t open your eyes again.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he roused the horses and got packed to go, the sun not yet rising on the edge of the sky. He counted himself lucky that you were such a horsewoman that you instinctively latched onto a saddle horn when you were put on a horse, even when you were unconscious. He got on Ares behind you and you gave a pained moan when he tugged you gently back against his body, but you turned your head to bury your face in his neck all the same.

“Just gotta make it to Jackson,” he said, more for himself than for you. “That’s all. Just make it to Jackson, Baby, please make it to Jackson…”

He pushed the horses. He could hear you in his head, lecturing him about it, about how he wasn’t listening to what they were telling him but he was having a hard time caring. He could see the gates of Jackson when Ares’ legs gave out, collapsing to the earth. Joel clutched onto you as the two of you fell into the snow, the horse’s heavy breaths almost deafening against the eerie silence of the snow. It took Joel a moment to even hear that your breaths were coming sharp and harsh, your body tense, face drawn.

“Shit,” Joel swore. “Come on, Baby, we’re almost back, almost made it, you’re so close, you’re gonna be OK…”

He was trying to pull you from the snow and get you up to carry you inside, his heart beating so hard he could feel it against his ribs, when a hand appeared on his back.

“Joel,” Tommy said, his brother’s eyes ranging over him as he pulled him back from you. “It’s OK. We’ve got her, you got her here, it’s OK. It’s gonna be OK.”

***

Three weeks later

“I really don’t know that I’m ready for this,” Olivia frowned as you guided one of the fillies, Splendor, into the pen. She tossed her head and raised her feet high, impatient and eager.

“Can’t just be me who knows how to break horses,” you said. “Besides, nothing too dangerous yet, just pressure and release exercises. It’s going to be easier with her than it was with the ferals, she’s been around people her whole life. Just need to get her comfortable with touch, pressure…”

“Right,” Olivia nodded. “I remember the steps, I think.”

“Good,” you said. “Can’t just assume I’m always gonna be here, you’ve gotta know this, too.”

You stepped back and watched Olivia start to work with Splendor, catching sight of Ellie in the doorway to the stable. You gave her a smile but she just glared at you.

You frowned for a moment.

“You alright for now?” You asked Olivia. She just nodded, not taking her eyes off the horse. “Holler if you need, I’ll be right back…”

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your new coat - one that actually fit you - and made your way over to Ellie, who was still glaring at you.

“What’s up, Kid?” You asked.

“You’re leaving,” she said. She didn’t say it like a question.

She was right.

You sighed.

“Ellie…”

“I can’t believe…” She shook her head. “You know what? Fuck you.”

She stomped off, sketch pad tucked under her arm.

“Ellie!” You called after her. She ignored you. You looked back into the pen for a moment, Olivia looking like she had things with Splendor under control just fine, before jogging to catch up with her. “Ellie…”

“Fuck you,” she said again, not stopping or slowing down.

“Kid,” you said, trying to keep your voice gentle. “Things are…”

She stopped in Joel’s yard, turning to face you, her eyes narrowed.

“If we really don’t mean anything to you, just say that,” she snapped.

“No,” you shook your head. “No, Ellie, of course you mean something to me, you mean…”

“Got a fucking funny way of showing it!” She was almost yelling now. “Were you even gonna tell me? Or were you just going to take off in the middle of the night again and act like we wouldn’t fucking notice?”

That stung. You hadn’t meant to make Ellie feel abandoned when you’d left before, when you’d gone to look for… You just hadn’t been able to think about anything else enough to do something like stop and tell her. Things had been tense between the two of you since you got home. You’d thought it had just been because things had fractured between you and Joel but it seemed like there was more to it than that.

“Of course I was going to tell you,” you said gently. “You mean the world to me and…”

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “Apparently not enough for you to stay.”

You sighed.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it…”

“The fuck it doesn’t!” She snapped. “What, you think I have just… a ton of friends or something? You think I have shit like parents and family? Because I don’t. Until Joel, everyone I ever cared about either left me or died and now you’re doing it to and just fuck you, Bambi.”

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. You wanted to reach for her but you were worried that would do more harm than good. “I really am and it doesn’t have anything to do with you and…”

“You know, I never had a mom,” she cut you off, shaking her head, not looking directly at you. “Even when I was really little, like a baby and shit. I went straight to the fucking orphanage. And maybe it’s dumb since I’m an adult now but I thought…”

“Baby Girl,” Joel’s voice appeared behind you, making you jump, the fear of it almost drowning out the ache in you as you thought about Ellie growing up alone. “Why don’t you go inside?”

“She’s leaving, Joel,” she snapped. “Just gonna fucking leave us here like we’re nothing and…”

“Inside,” he said again, voice gentle.

“Joel.”

“Please, Kiddo,” he said.

She glared at you again before stomping off to the house, slamming the screen door behind her. You turned slowly to face Joel, your heart pounding as you did.

He looked the same. Almost the same. His eyes were different, tinged with sadness and regret, and he looked exhausted. Like he hadn’t slept well in a long time.

You hadn’t seen him since you’d woken up at the clinic weeks earlier.

It was disorienting. You didn’t remember how you’d gotten there, what had happened after you set down Lacy. All you knew is that you hadn’t found your daughter and that your whole reality seemed to contract to a fine, painful point after that.

“There you are,” Dr. Palmer smiled at you as you came to. “Welcome back to the land of the living! You were out for about two days after you got back, came down with a nasty infection after a stab wound to the shoulder…”

“How…” your throat was oddly scratchy.

“Joel got you back,” she said kindly. “He’s been waiting for you to wake up…”

Your heart picked up. Joel. Your Joel. The one who told you he was a raider once, that he was just like the men who had hurt you, who had taken you from your child, who said they’d killed her. Joel, the person you’d come to trust more than anyone else, the man you loved more than anything and he was like them.

“Honey?” The doctor said. You jumped a little and looked at her. “Want to see him? He’s been awful worried about you.”

You thought for a moment. Did you want to see him? You weren’t sure you could handle it, looking at him and thinking of those men, their hands on you, the way they hurt you.

But could you not see him? He was the only one here with answers.

“Can I?” You asked, fingers tightening in your blankets.

“Course,” she smiled. “He’s been here since he brought you back, he just came and got me when it looked like you were waking up. He insisted on waiting out there. I’ll get him…”

You tried to keep yourself from panicking, gathering the blankets around yourself as she brought in Joel.

He looked tired then, too. His hands were in his pockets and he clothes were dirty and he was watching you, cautiously, as the doctor went over something that you couldn’t actually hear.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she smiled again and closed the door behind her.

You instinctively shrank back from Joel and a pained look flitted across his face before he tightened his jaw.

“I’m stayin’ over here,” he said, indicating the other half of the room. “Don’t… don’t be afraid of me. Please. I’m not gonna touch you, OK?”

You watched him for a moment, not sure if you trusted him.

But he was Joel.

“OK.”

He lowered himself slowly onto the bed across from you, his eyes never leaving yours as he moved. The two of you were quiet for a moment, so quiet you wondered if he could hear how much your heart was pounding.

“Glad to see that you’re awake,” he said eventually. “Been worried…”

“You brought me back,” you said more than asked.

He answered anyway.

“I did.”

“Shouldn’t have done that.”

He watched you for a second.

“You would have died,” he said quietly.

You squared your jaw.

“Good,” you said. “Better that way.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Bambi…”

“You were right,” your voice was thick. “You were right, she’s gone, she…”

“Did you find her?” He asked softly. You just shook your head. You could feel the tears on your cheeks but couldn’t make yourself wipe them away. “Then I wasn’t right. Not yet. And I’m sorry I said it, I was just… I was so scared of losing you. I was so afraid and I just… I’m not right yet. So tell me about her.”

“What?” You managed.

“Your daughter,” he said. His eyes looked wet, too. “Tell me about her.”

You watched him for a moment. Even after everything Joel had told you, everything you knew he was, all you could think about was every time you’d wanted to tell him about her. When he’d told you about Sarah, when you were teaching Ellie how to ride, when you held William for the first time. Everything you’d forced deep into yourself for fear of it shattering you if you even thought it let alone spoke it out loud.

“Her name is Savannah,” you said quietly. “But I call her Savvy. I didn’t pick her full name, her birth mom did. She gave her to me when she was nine months old. She would be 14 now but she’ll be 15 on July 20…”

Once you started talking about her, you couldn’t stop, the words falling from you before you could even think about it. You told him how she took to the life the two of you led like a fish to water, she was such a natural at trapping and riding. You told him how she liked to read to her horse, how her hair curled in a different direction at her temples, how your dogs liked her better than you.

You only stopped once you were too tired to go on, body and mind too fragile to keep delving into this dangerous ground. Joel’s hands were clenched tightly on his lap but his eyes were sad and gentle.

“Sounds like she’s smart,” he said after you were quiet for a moment. “Skilled. She could be out there. She could. You gotta keep going, Bambi. You can’t give up. I know… I know what it feels like but you can’t.”

You looked away from him, a hollow ache in your chest. Part of you wanted so badly to just collapse against him, to feel his arms go around you and hold you together.

But the rest of you was all but screaming at you to run. He was like them, you couldn’t trust him, he’d lied to you, made you trust him, made you love him.

“Why did you do it?” You asked, looking back at him. He frowned, confused. You kept going. “Why did you lie to me? Make me think I could trust you? Make me fall for you? Was that… was that part of it for you? Did you like that you could make me feel something for you now when I wouldn’t have before? Or was it just so you could fuck me and make me ask for it instead of taking it?”

“No,” he said softly. He looked pained, his eyes wet. “No, it was never that, I… I ain’t proud of what I did then. I did it to keep me n’Tommy alive but that’s not an excuse. But I never - never - touched a woman who didn’t want me to. Even then. I’d never do that. I… I wasn’t tryin’ to lie to you, Sweetheart, you have to know that. Please, Baby. Please. Trust me.”

It was taking everything you had in you to not run from him, not try to force him to leave.

“I don’t know that I can.”

You hadn’t seen him since that day. The day you went home from the clinic, you gathered up everything Joel had ever given you - every shirt, the carving, the guitar, the violin - and left it on his porch. The instruments were back on your porch only a few hours later. It didn’t matter. It’s not like you were going to play anything. You spent the next week hardly moving from your bed, the pain of losing your daughter heavy and sharp inside you.

You’d spent so much time avoiding him, not wanting to try to survive looking at him, not when your mind had traded the faces of the men who wouldn’t touch you with Mitchum with Joel’s in your sleep. Men who thought they were better somehow because they didn’t partake, they just watched you beg and plead and left you to die there.

“She right?” Joel asked softly. He looked like he was in pain. It seemed like the only times you saw him anymore he was in pain. “You leaving?”

“I can’t stay here,” you said. “I can’t stay where you are, it’s…”

“I’ll go,” he said quickly. “I’ll be the one to leave, please don’t go, please. It’s not safe out there and it’s… it’s my fault, I’ll go. Just give me a few days and…”

“Not going to let you leave your daughter, Joel,” you said quietly. “Your whole family is here, you can’t go. I’ll go.”

“No,” he said, voice firm now. “You’ll get yourself killed out there…”

“Not like I’ve got much to live for.”

“Find somethin’,” he cut you off. “You’ve got Ellie…”

“She needs you a whole lot more than she needs me,” you replied.

“Do it for Savvy,” he ignored you.

“Joel…”

“We can search for her,” he kept going. But he had your full attention now. “Been talkin’ to Maria… I know you don’t want anything to do with me right now but I’ll keep you safe, help you look. They can let us go for a week or two, once it gets more into spring and we know the snow is done. We can take whatever supplies we need, we can search. Really search. Please. Stay, stay for her. I’ll keep away from you until then, won’t even have to look at me, promise you won’t. Just… just please. Please don’t go. Please.”

You watched him for a moment. You’d never really had a chance to search for Savvy, not when you didn’t have raiders on your tail. You weren’t sure if you believed that she was alive. But you couldn’t bring yourself to consider the alternative, either.

“You’ll help me look for her?” You asked.

“Yes,” he said quickly, nodding. “We’ll look. Please. Stay for her.”

Your stomach knotted and your chest got tight just being near him. How were you supposed to survive a search with him?

But you had to try. For Savvy, you’d try anything.

“OK,” you said. “I’ll stay.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Yup, that's right. Joel and Bambi are going to go looking for Savvy.

GUESS WE'LL JUST HAVE TO SEE HOW THAT GOES!

Thank you so much for reading, everyone!! It means so much to me that you're here. I know this is a tough arc but I think it's a necessary one for these characters and I think a lot is going to come from it.

Thank you thank you thank you! Love you all!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro@h-annahayy@starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg@fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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strip-weathers · 17 days ago

Note

How have your feelings on the fandom as a whole changed?

Oh dear this will be long..but thank you for the ask!

By this answer I don’t hate on anyone and I don’t want to upset anyone! I’m not going to hate on anyone and I’d never do that. I’m just saying my opinion!

And if you gonna read it to the end, thank you so much for that. ❤️ this is also a part of my venting. I felt very scared to say it out loud because I’m scared that people are going to hate on me because of this. I hope you guys won’t and you’ll understand me. 💙

Also if you’d like to discuss on anything I just wrote down, don’t worry and discuss with me about that! Just DM me and we can discuss!

My feelings about this fandom changed a lot. Before, like from 2017 (even lower years) probably to 2021 the fandom was something different. People were kind, respectful, nearly every Cars or Planes blogs got attention and people interacted with them. They were simply enjoying the time being there and also people’s ideas and creations. They were simply talking about head cannons and also enjoying that. And I’ve been happily enjoying that too.

But after that 2021 year, I have a feeling it changed a lot. Lots of well known people left, or they stopped posting maybe because they’re busy in their lives or they just ran out of ideas or they’re not interested in this fandom anymore. And still lot of people quitting and leaving this fandom.

Amount of people on Instagram? Very small. Amount of people on TikTok? Also very small. Amount of people on Tumblr? A little bit more cause probably most of them don’t have Insta. I feel like this fandom is getting smaller and more closed and people don’t want to interact. (Maybe they’re shy? Not sure.)

Also these days there’s one big issue, attention. Lot of attention as likes, comments, shares (reblogs for Tumblr) get only those well known people in the fandom. But not those small accounts or blogs (including me). But why? Why small artists don’t get attention we should get for work we do? Where’s the problem? Maybe the algorithm of the app or the app doesn’t let us be seen on people’s dashboards and fyp? Or is that because we draw something people are not interested in? Or maybe they don’t like us? I’m not sure about that but it’s sad to see it.

I also want people from fandom to know that I’m here. I want them to know that I also like this franchise. I want them to known that I’m drawing and writing about Cars and Planes. I want them to know that I’m also part of this fandom and I want them to know that they can reach me or interact with me without any worries.

And I did find lot of great friends and moots I’m glad and happy for. You guys are amazing and thank you for being in contact with me and interacting with me. I really appreciate it! Also all people who like, share (regblog) or comment my posts, thank you for that!

There’s also another issue in this fandom. Some people who may not be in the fandom (I’m not sure about that) just draw cars or planes randomly and post it and everyone are interacting as hell and it goes viral. And that’s all. But those who are here for longer time (also including me) post as much as they can but they never get any attention and interactions. Why? Where’s the problem? I’m trying to be as active as possible (for example here on Tumblr) and I get some attention (and I appreciate it) but not as much as other artists. I find it very unfair.

And the last one issue is that these days people ship characters that shouldn’t be shipped. 🚫By this part I’m not hating on lgbt community🚫

Yeah, some ships I do understand like Filmore and Sarge or Finn McMissile and Leland Turbo and some other ships. (Dont worry I also can see some cute ships with Cars or Planes and maybe I’ll show them some day owo.) But there are some ships that shouldn’t be. Like Strip and Chick. I’m sorry but in all honesty I hate this ship. You can’t just ship a married race car with mean race car. Why don’t yall give Chick some lady car? Like Natalie? I don’t get why do people ship them.

But I’m not here to hate on anyone! I’m not going to hate on anyone! People can do anything they want and I understand that. But I just don’t get this case and it’s so disturbing for me.

So in overall I sometimes feel like if you’re not friends with well known people in this fandom who would help you get viral, you’re not gonna be famous or well known in this fandom.

Again thank you for reading this into the end and have nice day / night!

#pixar cars #disney cars #cars #cars fandom #disney pixar cars #cars 1 #cars 2 #cars 3 #disney planes #ask answered #tumblr #my opinion

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anothermansjeans · 1 year ago

Text

Read Your Mind

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

a/n: hello babes! i had originally posted this on patreon but wanted to share it with tumblr as well (ik i said it’d take like 2 weeks but here she is)! i’ll be writing the smut scenes to this fic and those will be patreon exclusives so if you wanna become a member it’s in my bio :)

wc: 1.1k

cw: implied sex, dry humping mention ?? i think that’s it!

inspiration: read your mind by sabrina carpenter

To say Y/N was frustrated would be an understatement. The constant mixed signals she has received from Aaron would make whiplash seem less painful, and she wasn’t being over dramatic.

When she first developed what was once a small crush— and is now almost what she thought was love— for her boss, she wouldn’t have ever thought he’d have even an ounce of any sort of romantic feelings for her, but after a drunken night out with the team and coming to the realization that they lived not even two buildings away from one another, confessions and heavy petting were exchanged. The next morning after mutual hungover groans were exchanged throughout the bullpen, Hotch called her into his office and made it very clear that lines were crossed… but also stated he had enjoyed himself. The confusion had begun there. Knowing he wasn’t typically one for physical contact, the feeling of him placing his hand onto her hand that rested on top of his desk sent a shock through her system. She enjoyed it, she really enjoyed it, but within thirty seconds of that contact he had also said how he needed her to get back to her desk— he needed to be alone to work.

Y/N brushed it off after that. Nothing was going to happen— Aaron liked what they did, but clearly didn’t want to pursue anything. That was understandable, and it would’ve stayed understandable if he kept up with the professionalism. Lack of said professionalism happened during a case in New York. Everyone had to share a room with someone except for one, and when it came down to pairing off Emily and JJ went off with each other, Derek and Spencer assumed they’d be the second pair, and Rossi claimed the solo room for himself. That left Y/N and Hotch with each other. It was very awkward for the first hour, but they slowly warmed up to each other again.

If anyone told Y/N that she would be having sex with Aaron that night she would’ve laughed in their face, and if anyone told her that they’d wake up in each other’s arms and bask in the warmth, she would’ve sent them to a mental institution. But it happened. After one too many glances they inevitably gave in, and that morning was a lot less awkward than the morning after their drunken dry humping.

But the cycle with Hotch continued after that. They’d share secret kisses, he’d tell her very sternly to get to work. They would spend the night with each other, he’d say they shouldn’t see each other for a while just to call her in the next night or two. At this point, she figured he was lonely but didn’t want to commit. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could play this game with him, and she would continue to mull it over in the early hours at the office before anyone else was there, stirring her coffee in the kitchenette until she felt a strong pair of hands touch her waist.

“I miss you.”

His voice was raspy, like he woke up not too long ago and just came in. She knew his statement was referring to the small break in seeing each other he had suggested, and the thought of it made her upset, causing her to place her coffee on the counter and turn around, crossing her arms.

“I can’t read your mind.” Her statement caused him to lift an eyebrow, forcing her to elaborate. “I’m a profiler, and for the love of God I cannot read what the hell is going on in your mind. You say that we need to stop and then you call me whenever you deem it’s a good time. You know we’re crossing a line here, make that very clear, but still see me in a romantic setting. I can't read your mind.”

His hands had dropped from her waist, and he took a step back. “There’s nothing to read here, Y/N. I thought we were together.”

She scoffed, causing him to wince, “then why the fuss, Aaron? Why are you saying things but doing the opposite? Why the mixed signals?” She waited a minute, staring back at him, waiting for him to say something, but when he didn’t, she grabbed her coffee and started to take off.

“Wait.” He hooked his hand around her elbow, causing her to turn back to him. “You’re right. I’ve screwed up. I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time— I don’t typically date, but Y/N, I’m not lying when I say that there is no one else I would want to be experiencing this with. I was actually hoping that you’re it for me.”

A small part of her wanted to laugh in his face. After countless days trying to read what the hell was going on in his mind, this wasn’t even on the forefront of the mental list she compiled. The biggest part of her wanted to believe him. She really did, but she had nothing to go on. “I need you to prove it, Aaron. I feel like I’m clueless here and I just—”

He swiftly cut her off by tugging her towards him and smashing their lips together. This kiss was a lot different than the secret or drunken ones they’ve shared. It felt like the real deal for Y/N, and she could’ve stayed there forever if it wasn’t for the small crash as well as the exclaimed “oh!” they heard.

Breaking apart, they turned their heads to see a very frazzled Penelope standing there with her hands in a surrendering position, lips in an “oh” shape, and a broken mug on the floor. No one spoke immediately, but once everyone was fully aware of the situation at hand, Penelope went down to the floor and started scooping up the broken pieces. “I am so sorry sir… and Y/N! I’m uh— I‘ll just—”

“It’s okay, Garcia,” Hotch’s voice was gruff, “I’ll clean it up. Just get ready for the briefing.”

She had slowly gotten up and wiped her hands across her dress. “Yes, sir,” she spoke quietly, but once she turned around and scurried away Y/N could hear a quiet “I am so telling Derek I was right.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward afterwards as they both pitched in to clean the broken glass. Their slightly heated faces and hidden smiles were enough for them to both understand what the other was thinking— this thing between them was real, and they had to practice avoiding the rest of the team for anything other than case related things.

#criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x female reader

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voidedaurora · 2 months ago

Note

hey! quartlez just posted a video “clearing the grooming allegations” on their pasqelz channel. which i find a bit funny cause if you’re so serious about clearing your name n ppl are lying grr 😡 shouldn’t it be on your main account??

they also said working on it stressed them out (poor them 🥺 /sar) so the video isn’t super long

they said “Originally had a longer video prepared but workin’ on it stressed me out too much and ended up not likin’ it later down the line so hope this one will suffice Apologizes on the wait but didn't wanna rush anythin out”

i hope that you n everyone else affected by them are okay! 🫶🏼

I'm aware of the video and have watched it, it proves nothing, disproves nothing, flat out LIES?, etc. Starting with the most blatant lie, around 6:42 I never posted her porn/Nsfw, I'm not evil and I have no reason to do so. She claims that I deleted it but I actually don't think I've deleted a SINGLE tumblr post I've made here, I've edited posts to correct spelling, censor evidence I failed to censor while rushing, etc. But I don't think I've flat out deleted any of them? After looking for a while to figure out what she was talking about I figured out the image at least, this is a flat out lie and her trying to twist the narrative. THIS is the drawing she is talking about to my knowledge.

This is obviously NOT NSFW, Suggestive at worst. She's honestly just trying to make me look bad I guess? I've never posted cropped NSFW of hers, I don't have a reason to. Additionally, just gonna point out since she has a caption at the bottom left saying she looked for the post, I have good reason to believe SHE never looked for anything according to her own words as shown here.

Screenshot was taken on the 22nd of October

This obviously isn't groundbreaking or anything crazy but it's definitely something to note since she's making this "response" based off of things her friends have told her and interpreted from posts online At around 1:11 she talks about how she "didn't want to treat Khai differently than how I acted towards any of my other friends so they didn't feel left out" and pretty much tries to justify the way she acted around her with the fact it was how Mel and I had acted to eachother and sometimes with Khai as a group. This does NOT excuse anything, despite what she believes, acting a certain way around someone or letting certain things slide that you wouldn't "normally" would be considered SPECIAL TREATMENT and isn't ok. Letting Khai in her server early is special treatment It's fucking insane that even after your friends told you not to let khai in you'd let her in anyway Additionally she mentions briefly the "shit talking" I did about her around 0:34 and shows screenshots (i'll show them below but in higher quality + more context bc she paints em in a certain way with how they're displayed

For this one I was talking about how she was treating me throughout surgery, not shit-talking to shit talk

Again, this isn't shit-talking, this is me being upset she was treating me like caca

THESE aren't shit talking either, sure they may have been rudely worded but the context of this was when kiwi, another friend, Mel, and I were all playing monopoly and Mel had been being really mean to everyone else involved and pushing everyone's boundaries (not in the "monopoly divides friendships" trope way either)

Now this one is definitely fair, it was worded quite immaturely/meanspirited but I was just being honest with Khai at the time, Mel would constantly shit-talk about Khai to me :/

#1 is fair TO AN EXTENT, she took what I'd said as some deep dark threat, I was extremely upset at the time and DID INDEED have alot of things she'd done bottled up for her, and to me it had felt extremely unfair that I'd kept shit secret and had THAT much care for her and her career to lie for her only for her not to give less of a shit about me when I needed her, additionally I was also in the middle of a long bpd episode fueled by stress, the surgery, narcotics, and general mental illness. She took this and tried to frame it as me "blackmailing" her. Not to whip out definitions but-

By definition, blackmail is basically when you hold information above someone's head as a threat to get something else either OUT of them or force them to do something for you. This was NOT blackmail, if ANYTHING it would count as a threat, but I didn't even say this directly to her so I'm just??? For that second set of screenshots I was definitely being an ass about her, but again, all of this was out of frustration of how I WAS BEING TREATED by her All in all, all of these screenshots are WILDLY cropped and get rid of other bits of context that are honestly pretty important when viewing Moving on to the next point

She mentions how the "whole grooming thing mainly comes from the Just Dance VR video I did with Khai" this is not true and you know it! I guess she's just ignoring this whole stream

ADDITIONALLY, she mentions that I "was just mad that Kai's character looked similar to voided character because they were both blue and had antenna" no, this is not why I was upset. Sure, I was uncomfortable with the two characters looking the same, and WHEN Kaia was made initially, it was during a point of time when Khai was at her peak for copying pretty much everything I'd do, down to ocs, artstyle, ways I spoke, etc. (she doesn't do this anymore so this absolutely is not to shame her <3) It made me uncomfortable knowing that Kaia was 1. based off of Iris 2. was drawn EERILY similar to how Mel drew Iris before (even to the point where when I'd ask other people to spot who's who THEY WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO TELL) 3. The character that looked like Iris was now being shipped with the EXACT SAME one she was etc. all of those together, coupled with the apparent special treatment Khai was being given made me extremely uncomfortable, and worried. My primary concern was NOT the fact Kaia looked like Iris, its the fact she was clearly being used to fill the space where Iris USED TO BE, and was using Khai as a sort of replacement for me. Next. I think its loony that Mel is complaining about people thinking she's still obsessed with her ex as if there isn't REASONS we all think this, you redesign their characters to use as your own, flat out have stolen a couple, talk about them ALL the time in private, the first thing people get to know about you is how much you fucking hate your ex, theres the whole Honest video, the shit-posts about them, etc. There's other things I'll mention at a later date once they're public additionally. She also mentions how the "characters arent even alike anymore" but they really are still the same characters but in a different font. Not to mention the fact you've recently literally stolen 2 characters (Bronze and Frostbite) which were never yours to begin with. wild At 10:47 she says she's surprised people are shocked when she vents about her EX, OFC they are. It's been what 7 years? since yall first dated, and ANOTHER 2 years for you to move on, at least publicly. People are upset you still SHOW people these vents then rant, rave, and shittalk them as if they're still here actively doing you harm, you wish DEATH upon them to this day, aswell as any other people who wrong you. There's a difference between venting to get out feelings and venting to ""cope"" with your ex not liking you anymore and then showing these vents to people around you. The fact they were your "first love" doesn't excuse anything either. "im not friends with any minors" Highly doubt this, only reason you aren't now is because they all left you Around 12:51 she touches on the fact she's shit-talked people in her server, and possibly her friends aswell. She blames this on her old friends and people around her, while this is partially true, there have been MANY instances where she was NOT influenced or told to make fun of these people, i've shown these before but I'll show them again Randomly dming me about fanart someone made, poking fun at it

Randomly dming me about fanart someone made, poking fun at it pt.2

you get it

As you can see in these screenshots she's actively making fun of fanart just RANDOMLY, every single screenshot is from a different time aswell. so this behavior was ISOLATED and un-influenced at that moment. Pretty much everything past 14:30 is just her going on a weird ego stroking powertrip about people speaking out about her, you can SMELL the stick rammed up her ass just from her tone alone, she doesn't care, she never will. All yall praising her for this "response" are honestly pretty crazy and your standards are BELOW the floor atp, the glazing is insane ☹️like be so so real, she doesn't even TALK in a serious manner in the video, she starts it off by YELLING Anyway this ENTIRE video was a nothingburger, she proves nothing, she disproves nothing, there's absolutely nothing new brought to to table. Just 17 minutes of excuses, lies, and "nuh uh" Also to anon, I agree 100% she should've posted this on main even if it was absolute dog water, I dont care if you're family watches your videos, the thrusting furrys and suggestive videos were fine but the one supposedly "clearing your name" was too much, awesome Sorry about the formatting being bad, I'm tired of this girl

#questions #quartelz #🍉

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angelofsmalldeath-codeine · 5 months ago

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What we lose in art when blogs leave the platform

Last night I was working on my fics database (I’m the spreadsheet kinda autistic) and checking if the links I had were still working and trying to fetch links for the ones I had recently added. I was upset about the number of blogs gone (some might have changed name and I haven't kept up and that one is on me). Some really amazing stories, art and overall fun is all gone. Precious interactions that help build the community totally vanished.

The vitriol and unjustified hate I see spewed everywhere has gotten to unbearable levels. I’ve been in fandoms and fanfic communities since the days of printed zines and yahoo/geocities groups that were uber hard to get into. I have survived all the websites that shutdown leading us to mourn the loss of that work. Fanfic was akin to contraband and harshly judged. We know we are weirdos, hence why we find community in alternative spaces away from the mainstream.

It feels like people want us to go underground again. Cool, we can do that, but we gonna be gatekeeping the hell outta these spaces then.

What peeves me the most is the puritanical take that has been recently brought into the space and how that’s used to measure others and judge them on some standards they are not even aware of until they start getting hate. Said hate is usually delivered via anon asks, of course, because god forbid them having the decency of defending their shitty takes, right?

Still on the puritanical take, the goalpost seems to change often too. It is self-serving. Kink shaming/topic judging is the default mode until someone decides they like that particular thing and it is no longer controversial. Why are you censoring your peers? Why do you assume that everyone subscribes to your beliefs, tastes, preferred topics and tropes? The performative activism isn't a good look either.

Sometimes this fandom feels like the mormons who do the soaking thing so they can get off before marriage without actually fucking. If the cock goes in because my friend is jumping on the mattress, that is on the mattress, not on me. I digress but y'all get the gist.

I have been on this hellsite since its launch and have seen many fandoms come and go. The assholes eventually fuck off to be toxic somewhere else, but they do tend to jump from fandom to fandom for a while until their reputation and toxicity catches up with them. It takes too long and the damage they cause is often quite extensive.

We are not in competition with each other here. I have said it so many times... Tumblr isn't a monetised platform and fanfic is a gift economy. Leave your fucking TikTok and Instagram cut throat mentality at the door. We don't tear each other down trying to build ourselves up in this house.

During the pandemic fanfic came into the mainstream mostly because of people on TikTok. Great! We are a welcoming bunch and it makes us happy that more people can find joy in consuming fan made art of their favourite shows and ships in whatever form they choose.

It is not because we've opened the door that we will let y'all trash the room. I'm sure you were raised better than that.

Can you not be assholes? Much appreciated.

P.S.: I am too old to care and have zero fucks left to give about anyone's feelings getting offended over this. Fuck you very much.

#internet etiquette #fandom etiquette #you were raised better than that ffs #why y'all think harassing people will make you more relevant?#it is giving mean girl and peaked in high school #like seriously #I swear to god #I am more concerned about what we are slowly losing than you getting pissy

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scoobydoodean · 4 months ago

Note

i’d like you to know you’ve made me much more of a bitter deangirl when it comes to the trap. like i still love the idea of it, of them reconnecting in purgatory of all places, and i still like the idea of lots of what dean says re: should’ve asked cas to stay and i forgive you and talking *about* his anger, but… dean had a right to be angry, including at cas. and yeah it’s good that dean apologized, for the sake of healthy communication cause that’s what you do when you’ve said hurtful things in an argument regardless of who’s “right”, but cas also should’ve apologized again. in fact, i can’t remember so i could be completely misremembering, but does cas ever actually apologize to dean beyond expressing the sentiment of feeling bad that mary died?

and i’m also thinking about the conversation they have before being separated. i like the angst of cas’s line re: i left but you didn’t stop me, but again, dean was not the only one in that argument. to leave was very much cas’s choice, and it feels kinda unfair to put that on dean, regardless of whether dean saying smth would’ve actually gotten cas to stay (which, to dean, probably would’ve seemed unlikely given cas’s past habits). and also, cas saying dean couldn’t move on, that’s actually fucking heartbreaking and almost… cruel. iirc it’d been at most a couple weeks since his mom (his mom!) had been killed!! plus dean never got to say goodbye, again!! of course he couldn’t just move on!

idk idk… anyway i believe i’ve sent an ask about your opinions on the trap before lol, and sorry about this long ass message, but i recently saw a gifset about that conversation (before being attacked) and all the notes were like ‘yes cas you tell him!’ ‘dean needed to hear that!’ ‘finally got dean’s head out of his ass!’ and it kinda made me annoyed for dean which. brainrot. but whatever. bitter deangirls unite, dean deserves the support 😭😭

context

LMAO sorry for my tumblr arc culminating in me turning full bitter deangirl ig and taking some of you down with me (I'm not sorry actually I'm having a ball in this bitch).

Cas's attempts at apologies are cataloged here. So he does try to apologize. But how many times has Cas been "sorry" only to do the thing he apologized for again? I mean the fact that he keeps "apologizing" for lack of communication and unilateral decisions over things that impact other people besides him and secret deals that blow up in all of their faces over and over and over and over shows that he is... not actually that sorry? Because if you're actually sorry, you actually change your behavior. Except Cas thinks "getting a win" (while actively digging a deeper hole in his relationship with Dean) is the way to "apologize" and make everything better instead of just... changing his behavior. And whatever his latest big plan to fix everything is never works and instead actively makes his relationships and his own self esteem worse. From the outside perspective, what Cas is doing (apologizing then doing the thing he just apologized for again) is just kind of... the ultimate way of telling a person you claim to love that their feelings actually have very little value to you. I mean Cas would be horrified by the idea that he doesn't actually value Dean's feelings, but what conclusion is Dean supposed to come to? Is it any wonder that Dean is perpetually confused about what exactly Cas thinks of their relationship? Is it any wonder that he reached a point where he couldn't stand to hear one more of Cas's meaningless apologies? To maintain any semblance of a relationship with Cas, Dean has to focus on what he feels about Cas's intentions (intentions Dean has always had faith in being good) but that faith and care increasingly forces him to ignore aspects of their relationship that are deeply hurtful because Cas refuses to do his part in addressing their issues in any meaningful way. It's just a vicious cycle of Dean trying to communicate that their lack of communication is upsetting and Cas pretending to listen and apologizing but clearly not actually listening or understanding the gravity of the situation and how it is slowly building a rift between them over years (with perhaps the most striking and hurtful example being The Future) until the secret over soulless Jack becomes "the straw that broke the camel's back" and Dean absolutely explodes at the end of season 14... and then... still... Cas's secrets remain—to the bitter fucking end.

Also yeah tbh Cas's "I left but you didn't stop me" makes my eyes roll so hard. Painfully stupid dialogue with unpleasant (though likely unintentional) implications (as linked in thread above).

#15.09 #mail

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hanahaki-disease · 5 months ago

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The One Minute You’re Not By My Side

An ROTMNT FanFic

Summary:

For as long as he can remember, Donnie always had Leo beside him. Through every illness and injury, daydream and nightmare, Leo had been at Donnie's side; it was all he had ever known.

And then the impossible happens for one minute: Donnie was alone for one minute.

Leo doesn't understand why Donnie was so strung up after the Krang invasion, chalking it up to him being protective over everyone and shutting himself off for some reason or other. When confronting him, Leo learns why his twin had been distancing himself from him

I had published this on my ao3 a few years ago intending to put it here on tumblr but I haven’t gotten around to it, but it’s here now. This is for all you angst-loving disaster twins fans!

*********************************************************************

“No Leo!” Donnie yelled. The battle shell he was working on forgotten about as he tried to hold back his tears. “I’m not talking about when we lost you in that krang dimension!”

“Then why are you so upset?!” With a huff, Leo dropped onto the bed. His leg had been healed enough to walk him from the med room to Donnie’s lab, that’s for sure, but he couldn’t stand there for that long. Not yet at least, with the way Donnie said his knee cap was fractured. “I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re so adamant about this!”

“‘Cause, you don’t understand!” Donnie replied.

“Then tell me! I can’t read your mind-!”

“You died!” He snapped. Donnie turned around from the table, tears flowing freely now in the purple LED lights.

Leo sat there stunned. The breath in his lungs held itself in his throat and the words on his tongue died like Donnie said he had. “What?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You died. I’m not talking about when we lost you in the other dimension. No. Your heart stopped beating for one minute on the way back to the lair.” Donnie turned back to the haphazard piles of wires and metal on the table.“For one minute—for seventy-four seconds—you were dead and for the first time in our existence…I was alone.”

He couldn’t look at his twin the same anymore.

They thought Leo was stable enough to move to the lair, and while he needed the most medical attention out of the group, everyone believes he was good enough to move through the subway tunnels toward home. He had been doing fine, up until the station on sixteenth and broadway when he had gone quiet and limp. Leo had started slipping out of April and Donnie’s grip, his legs unmoving and his head hanging against his chest. April was the one to notice first, not liking the way Leo’s hand wasn’t gripping onto hers anymore.

When they laid him, Leo’s eyes had glazed over, a ghostly sheen that spread over his irises and left him staring ahead at whatever victim was in its path. And Donnie was right next to him.

Donnie couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. The world below him disappeared and he was falling through into nothingness as he stared at his twin brother’s dead eyes. Around him, fuzzy figures went to work trying their best to reanimate the dead turtle. He saw red and orange were the first to the scene, their hands following the steps from the CPR training a few years ago. Yellow was next to him, trying to shake him out of his stupor. Grey was somewhere, Donnie couldn’t see where because it didn’t matter at that point. Donnie was now alone in this world.

Everything zeroed in on Donnie as the realization hit him: Leo broke his promise.

A flash of a memory, a ghost of a forgotten time when the twin was just under six years old, hiding beneath their shared blanket in the middle of the night. Bright eyes staring at each other as they giggled about everything and anything.

“Hey ‘tello?” The blue-dressed turtle said.

“Yeah ‘nardo?” The purple one replied.

“You’re never going to leave me right? You’ll always be with me?”

“Of course!” The child’s voice beamed. “But only if you promise to never leave me alone, m’kay?”

“I promise! I’ll always be right by your side!” The blue turtle held out his third finger. “I pinkie promise!”

“But we don’t have pinkies!”

“Doesn’t matter! You have to promise to, okay?”

“Okay,” the purple turtle wrapped his third finger around his brothers, eyes half closed as sleep was rushing over them both. “I promise.”

Donnie didn’t know what to do in those few seconds, that moment when his whole world crumbled to the ground. And then he heard a gasp and yelled of relief. He saw black gloves twitch off the ground and a blue bandanna spring to life before reading on the cold concrete of the subway station. And while everyone else had expressed their concerns and double-checked if Leo was okay to move again, Donnie had still stayed frozen in place, his eyes staring at where Leo’s dead ones looked back at him.

“Donnie,” Leo said breaking the silence.

“No! No! Don’t ‘Donnie’ me!” The older twin yelled, angry tears replaced the sad ones, but they were tears nonetheless. “I had to lose you twice! Twice! I had to watch you break your promise twice, Leo! You said you’d always be by my side, you promised we’d be twins forever, and then you had to do your dumb-dumb self-sacrifice to save our dumb-dumb lives without thinking of how that would affect me!!”

His chest heaved, every ounce of anger and grief pouring in his words. Donnie had been fighting a war against his emotions since the invasion, trying to keep his head level and not think about those few moments where his other half had been gone, and right now he was losing. Donnie wiped a few tears from his face, his cheeks feeling dry and crusted over from the salt, “I…I don’t know how to live if you’re not there, ‘nardo, because you’ve always been there.”

“It’s always been us, always been you and me.” Leo looked away from his brother, his own tears creeping up on him. “And then it was just me…I-I don’t know what that’s like, and I don’t ever want to find out again.”

That’s how it had always been, since they were toddlers, Leo and Donnie were practically glued at the hip. Wherever one went, the other would follow. When one got sick, the other was right next to them. Even if they fought or argued, they never strayed far from the other. The blue and purple turtles had a bond so very different than the rest.

When they were older, shortly after reforming Draxum from villainy to lord of the lunchroom, they found blueprints of Draxum’s lab. Original ones at that.

In the design for the center spire, the one that housed the oozequitoes and the cage where their father was trapped, there was no separation wall between Leo and Donnie’s embedded mutation bobble. They had been floating in shared goop when they were mutated by the ooze and Lou Jitsu’s DNA. No wonder they had been so close—they were practically reborn as twins when they were mutated!

Whether it was a coincidence or not, Leo and Donnie had grown up as them against the world, and for a few moments, it was just Donnie.

Leo grunted, his voice bringing Donnie’s attention to him, his non-existent eyebrows were furrowed as he stood up from the bed. There were no arm rests to help him up and his walker was too far away to grab, but that didn’t stop him. And slowly, oh so slowly he made his way to his twin, weak and recovering arms wrapping around his brother and the bandages that covered Donnie’s injuries.

“Leo, wha—?” Donnie began, startled by the unannounced touch.

“I’m sorry, ‘tello.”

Donnie cried again for the second time that day as he wrapped his around his brother’s cracked shell, burying his sobs in his neck as the two of them hugged. And for the first time since the end of the invasion, Donnie didn’t feel alone anymore, not when he had his twin by his side.

***********************************************

If you decide to read my other works, you’ll notice that this fic isn’t as…refined as what my most recent stuff is like. It doesn’t matter though, this was like my first serious work and I’m proud of it.

You should be too >:|

<3 hanahaki

Main Masterlist

#rotmnt #leo and donnie are twins #rise leo #rise donnie #rise mikey #rise raph #rottmnt disaster twins #disaster twins #rotmnt fanfiction #he dies #straight up not having a good time #he lives though #so it’s fine

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darkstar225 · 1 year ago

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Twice's 10th member disappears after an argument with her favourite unnie

A/N: I got an ask on Tumblr and I loved writing it, ty! I hope the anon that gave me this idea likes it! :) (Ik it's angst but it's so good, like?? Ily anon)

The request: can you do a twice 10th member where Y/N gets into an big heavy argument with one of the members which causes her to leave upset for hours without her phone, worrying everyone especially because they have no way of contacting her. When she comes back it's around 3am and she comes back all bloodied, bruised, and disassociated not really speaking. (I know it's angsty sorry)

PS: Tysm for everyone who reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

__________________________________________________________

Y/N had always been the 10th member of TWICE, a fact she cherished with all her heart. Being part of one of the most popular K-pop groups in the world was a dream come true. She had laughed, danced, and cried with her fellow members. Yet, her strongest bond was with Jihyo, the group's leader.

Jihyo was more than just an idol to Y/N. She was a mentor, a sister, sometimes a mother and the pillar TWICE's maknae leaned on during the most challenging times. Today, however, was different. A brewing argument had escalated into a heated quarrel, and their once harmonious relationship had cracked.

It had started innocently enough... Y/N had suggested a new choreography move during practice, hoping to infuse some freshness into their routine. But Jihyo had shot it down immediately, citing concerns about safety and cohesion. What began as a professional disagreement had spiralled into a personal clash.

The argument had raged on for hours, with both of them stubbornly sticking to their positions. It was a war of wills, neither willing to back down. Y/N's eyes had welled up with tears as frustration and hurt welled up inside her. Jihyo's words were tinged with anger and had cut deep, like a knife through her heart.

Jihyo - I can't believe you're so stubborn, Y/N!

Y/N, unable to contain her own rage any longer, snapped back for the first time.

Y/N - Well, at least I'm not a control freak who thinks she knows everything!

The room had gone silent, save for the heavy breathing of the two women. Their bandmates (sisters), who had been practising alongside them, exchanged worried glances. This was far from the usual friendship that TWICE was known for.

Jihyo's eyes filled with tears, and the youngest instantly regretted her harsh words. But instead of apologizing, she stormed out of the practice room, leaving everyone in stunned silence.

Hours passed, but Y/N didn't return. Her absence gnawed at the members like a persistent itch. They tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Messages were left unanswered, and worry began to replace anger. They knew that when Y/N was upset, she often went on long walks to clear her head. But this time, it felt different.

Jihyo, burdened with guilt and concern, paced back and forth in their dormitory. She couldn't shake the image of her kid's tear-streaked face from her mind. She knew she had crossed a line with her comments, and now, their argument had led to the younger girl's disappearance.

As the hours stretched into the early morning, TWICE decided they had to take action. They couldn't let their angel wander the streets alone and upset. At 3 AM they finally grabbed their jackets and headed out, hoping to find her.

The night was cool, and the streets of Seoul were dimly lit. TWICE members walked in pairs, calling out Y/N's name as they went. Their worry deepened with every unanswered call. They checked all of their girl's favourite spots, but she was nowhere to be found.

Jihyo felt a sinking sensation in her chest. She couldn't bear the thought of her baby being out there alone, hurt and upset because of her. Guilt gnawed at her, clawing at her conscience like a relentless beast.

They searched for hours, their voices growing hoarse from calling their babygirl's name. Desperation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. It wasn't just about finding her anymore, it was about making things right.

Finally, as the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn, they spotted her. Y/N was walking slowly along the riverbank, her steps unsteady. She looked dishevelled, her clothes torn, and her face was stained with tears. But what shocked them the most were the bruises on her arms and the blood on her cheek.

Jihyo was the first to cry out, rushing towards her. The other members followed suit, their worry giving them strength.

Jihyo - Baby!

But Y/N seemed distant, her eyes glazed over. She didn't respond to their calls. It was as if she was there physically but not mentally. She didn't seem to recognize them.

Nayeon, the group's eldest member and one of the maknae's mom, reached out to touch Y/N's shoulder gently.

Nayeon - Kiddo, it's us. You're safe now.

Y/N flinched at the touch, her gaze finally focusing on Nayeon's face. She seemed to be processing their presence slowly as if emerging from a deep fog.

Tears filled Jihyo's eyes as she took in her youngest's battered appearance. She blamed herself for this, for pushing Y/N to the point where she had left, vulnerable and alone.

Momo (known for her motherly instincts with Y/N, ft everyone else lol) put her arm around TWICE's honey and led her away from the riverbank.

Momo - Let's get you home, okay my love?

As they walked back to their dormitory, Y/N remained mostly silent, only muttering a few words in response to their questions. It was clear she was in shock. The members tried to piece together what had happened, but Y/N's disjointed sentences didn't reveal much.

Back in their dorm, they gently cleaned the maknae up, tending to her injuries. There were more bruises on her body than they had initially seen. Jihyo couldn't hold back her tears as she applied a soothing ointment to her child's cheek, the one with the fresh scrape. It was a painful reminder of the harsh words she had thrown at her earlier.

After cleaning her up, they tried to get Y/N to eat something, but she refused. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall. It was as if her spirit had been broken.

Jihyo couldn't take it any longer. She had to talk to their girl, to apologize and beg for forgiveness. She sat down beside her and took Y/N's hands in her own, her voice trembling with guilt.

Jihyo - Sweetheart, I'm so sorry.

Jihyo choked out, tears streaming down her face.

Jihyo - I never should have said those things to you. I was wrong, and I hurt you, and I can't forgive myself for that.

Y/N finally looked at her, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and confusion.

Y/N - Omma... I don't even remember what we were fighting about.

Jihyo's heart ached at those words. It was a testament to how far they had let their anger escalate.

Jihyo - It doesn't matter, kid. I hurt you, and I promise I'll do everything to make it right for us, I'm your momma and I'm here for you boo.

As the sun rose outside their window, casting a warm glow on the room, TWICE gathered around their youngest, offering her their support and love. They knew it would take time for her to heal, both physically and emotionally. But they were willing to stand by her, just as they always had.

In the end, the argument that had torn them apart had brought them closer than ever before. They had learned the importance of communication and they were determined to be there for each other, no matter what challenges lay ahead. And this made them all share the same thought:

We are proud of our precious maknae.

A/N: I apologise for any errors, English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there's something wrong, ty for reading <3

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