#now they have that stupid post-reading shit on tumblr too like lay off I'm a hater but I don't wanna yuck anybody's yummmm

[isanesshilarity]

Just saw K*rona/K*yora J*n in the worst case of pair the spares I'd ever seen and I just want to say, for posterity's sake, that I'll kill you.

[l0relaii]

hihi!! you already wrote josh with a reader who's not very vocal in bed, but how do you think chris and matt would react to the same scenario?

omg they'd both get so worried 😭😭

chris is very shy and flustered in the beginning of your relationship so i imagine he'd think you're just shy as well and that's why you don't make any sound

but as the relationship progresses and you're still silent while he fucks you he starts getting worried

i think he'd try to be quiet at first too because he'd get embarrassed with all the whimpers coming out of his mouth

but it's so hard to control himself. how is he supposed to keep quiet when you make him feel so good?

in my head chris is either a virgin or he just had some one night stands around campus so he isn't VERY experienced

but in the few sexual encounters that he had his partner was never THAT quiet

that's why he's so confused by your silence in bed. he can't tell if it's 'normal' or not

he watches a lot of some porn and in almost every video he sees the girl is practically screaming her head off. he's aware that not all people are the same but the thought that you don't like him sexually is eating at him

why else would you be so quiet? he thinks maybe you're faking but.. what exactly are you faking? wouldn't you want to be as loud as possible to make him believe you're enjoying it?

let's be honest, i think we can all agree that chris is religiously using tumblr, twitter, reddit yk allat so he'd start searching up and asking people if this is normal

and the answers he gets are SO confusing

"Everyone’s got different reactions to certain situations- this also includes sexual intercourse. As many others have stated, female volume in bed will vary depending on who you are pleasuring. Some may be quieter, or others will literally scream in bed." -yes i searched this up and this is from an actual site

"no shit sherlock.. but how do i know if she likes it or not??"

god this is getting so stupid. maybe he should ask josh..?

wrong. big mistake. HUGE

"what do you mean she's dead silent cochise?"

"i mean, she's just laying there or on top of me or whatever and she doesn't make ANY sounds"

"well, it sounds like maybe you've overestimated your skills bro, maybe you should let me try and i'll let you know if she's still that quiet"

he's joking. chris knows he's joking. but he can't help the anger and insecurity he feels. what if he's right? what if you'd be more vocal with other men?

"oh come on dude don't be an asshole, this is serious"

"alright, i'm sorry.. why don't you just ask her? you know, get the info straight from the source"

"what, do you think i'd be so stupid? of course i as-''

he didn't. he'd been spiraling on this for weeks and he didn't even think to ask you

but what would he say? "hey do you not like how i fuck you?" hell no, he couldn't do it

he TRIES to make you more vocal. he searches up methods on how to make you feel good, how to angle his hips, how to rub at your clit

and one night he FINALLY makes you moan out and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he has ever heard

"oh fuck yes sweetheart.. you sound so good.. come on, let me hear you.."

"mmhm c-chris.. god you feel s-so good"

jeez he could cum right then and there. maybe one day he'd have the courage to ask you more abt your quietness, but right now he's content with all the sounds he can get

sorry if this is not so good i'm kinda tired bcs i stayed up until 4 am crying at a fic i was reading :(

also, pls send in another ask for matt, i wanted to write them both in this one but it would have taken me too long and i really wanted to post smth this morning 🫶

[sophiethewitch1]

Look, look. It's not my fault I wrote 998 words on Wayne comfort. Or I'm giving it to you anonymously. Just think of me as the neighborhood feral cat giving you a dead bird for all the nice head scratches. I don't have enough guts to post my writing on my blog since I'm new to Tumblr. So please enjoy this comfort, slight nsfw fic at the end. Your writing has been inspiring me, so you deserve this. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭👍

You had just been laying on the couch that was undoubtedly worth more than anything you ever owned in your previous life. Anyone rich can buy a uncomfortable and presumptuous piece of high quality furniture, but finding one that looks this nice and feels great too is a special skill. The nice buttery leather was encasing you like a hug that you sunk into as you struggled with being awake. To make matters worse, you had grabbed one of the bloated pieces of Victorian literature off the shelf in the library. You fully intended to give it up at first sign it got hard. Then Todd challenged you on whether you could read and gather it's plot without help. He wasn't saying you were stupid, but you still heard it hanging in the air after he shuffled out of the room. You really hate being called stupid.

That's how Damian found you, lounging on the couch and half dozing as the sun and fireplace chased away the chill. Damian was also tired for another reason, he had spent all night on watch and was finally showing signs of tiring like a normal human. And there you were, all nice and cozy in silk pajamas, even though it was cold outside, you had long discarded your sweater and changed into shorts. Ever since you complained about the cold in the Manor, Bruce had raised the heating to a nice summer day.

It didn't bother Damian at all, especially when he got to see the way your pajama shirt rode up in your tossing and turning on the couch.

The sudden weight made your breath wheeze out and you lifted the book off your chest to peer down at Damian. In no time he settled himself between your open and splayed legs, hooking his massive arms underneath your knees and slightly under your bum so that he can wiggle closer to your navel. Your eyes widen and you almost squealed at him. Especially as his warm breath started warming your stomach.

Then you saw how his eyes dropped, and he slightly nuzzled into you before going slack. Your eyes traced the planes of his face as they slowly smoothed out from sleepiness.

"What are you reading", Damian slurs out, his voice heavy and deep from contentment.

"Some meaningless Victorian novel, everyone is so emotionally stunted it's hilarious" you hum out.

He doesn't respond and you cautiously close the book and rest it on your chest. His breaths were coming in deep now, having finally lost the battle when you started ranting about your arch nemesis book.

You take another moment to appreciate the softness that was missing from his face usually. Brows slack, not furrowed in rage or disgust. Nose not scrunched up from sneering. Cheeks puffed out slightly from sleep as his mouth pops open to let out the softest snore. This was Damian, the version you longed for. And ever so softly and gently, you run your hands through the silky but forbidden hair.

That's how Dick found you two hours later. Only your shirt had crept up more as you settled into sleep. Most importantly, Damian had slid down as he stretched slightly in his sleep, one of his hands crawling up underneath your ass and to fan out across the side of your ribs. This movement unconsciously moved you more in your sleep as you curled protectively around the weight on you. Your hands still buried in his hair.

Now though, Damian's face was buried in your pelvis, way too close to the goal for Dick. Older brother slapping younger brother in the calf to get the rotten bastard to wake up. Which he succeeded in.

Just for Damian to give Dick a shit-eating smirk as you mumbled in your sleep from the jostling. To rub his position in his brother's face even more, Damian leans over to give the lightest kiss to your inner upper thigh that was so tantalizingly close. Cue both Dick and Tim who just walked in having a collective mind blown explosion.

Needless to say there were a lot of harsh slaps and pathetic "ow"s as they wrenched him out from you as best they could without waking you. It didn't really work as Damian's stray hand slid back down as both held your ass for dear life. He buried himself even closer to you as your thighs clenched around him and you let out the littlest of moans in your sleep. Something that had both brothers dropping Damians legs and scurrying away with beet red faces while Damian flicked them off.

When you woke, Damian was sitting up in the chair with your legs on his lap and your discarded book being held precariously in his long calloused fingers. He looks down at you as you let out a delicious sounding moan as you stretch the sleep off. It wasn't as good as the one you let out earlier though, he needs that one again. Soon.

"You know it's not the Brontë sisters fault you're stupi-" he didn't get to finish as your foot slams the book into the side of his stupid gorgeous asshole face.

Took me a while to answer this because I didn't even know what to say. It's perfect it's fantastic it's amazing and I'm genuinely begging you to write more. The assholishness. The clingy desperation. The way both reader and Damian are so obviously in love with eachother but can only manage to get along long enough to touch. The little hints to the other relationships. The TENSION. All of it. All of it is amazing and wonderful and gorgeous and I'm dying on the floor. AAAAAAAA

[kimmimaru]

Personal Rant time (ignore if you like, just getting shit off my chest so I can maybe sleep) Sorry it's so long, I would put it under a 'read more' but for some reason the little icon for it isn't showing up anymore and I'm honestly too tired to look for other ways. So, I have serious exective dysfunction which means every day tasks are a horrendous ordeal. I hate it with every fiber of my being, I do NOT enjoy being this way. But trying to explain to people what exective dysfunction is and what its like is impossible, so I'm labelled lazy and shit. That doesn't help.

Anyways, issue I'm having is I have someone who is specifically employed to help me out with the struggles I have as an autistic adult like making phone calls, helping me remember appointments etc. And its been fine up until recently. I've been hit hard by my EFD and i'm having a burn out, so depression, anxiety, the works. I'm forgetting to feed myself and shit, its that bad. But this person who is supposed to be helping me doesn't seem to listen when I try to explain what I'm feeling? I have every day tasks I need to complete, I know exactly what they are but I just physically cannot make myself do them. I just sit there, panicking about it. I have no idea how to get around this, basically as an adult, you're told you're autistic and just sent away again. I never had any help regarding navigating the intricicies of existing as an autistic adult so I've been fumbling in the dark since I got my diagnosis. Now, I've been mostly coping until recently when I hit yet another bad patch, last one I had that was this bad was when I was at uni back in my early 20's. Anyone who follows me for my fanfic has probably noticed a lack of updates and stuff, I haven't even been posting here or really going on tumblr or Ao3 at all. I haven't been reading, gaming or anything. I'm anxious and depressed, and I'm trapped in this stupid fucking cycle and I can't tell anyone about it because literally not a single person in my life understands. I've tried but its useless. So I thought I'd try and explain it to the person who is literally paid to help me with this stuff, but she just doesn't get it. She just ends up piling more on my plate with more lists of shit I should be doing. No discussion about possible ways around my inability to do anything useful. Its just: Oh you need to do this, this and this. If you don't do this it will cause problems. You should be doing this every day....like, yeah? I know I should be doing these things. I think about it constantly. I'm not sleeping because I'm laying in bed obsessing over everything I should be doing. Honestly, I'm lucky I'm even getting out of bed at this point.

I've tried lists, I've tried schedules, I've tried phone reminders, alarms, timed sessions of like an hour of just doing stuff that needs doing etc. I can get it to work for like a week and then it just goes back to being impossible again. I hate it. I hate being this way. I've tried breaking it all down into tiny steps, nothing seems to have worked yet. I'm worried I'm running out of ideas. Obviously my daughter has no idea about any of this. She doesn't need to know it, but kids pick up on even tiny clues don't they? Not to mention that she's just hit puberty and is naturally going through it as well, poor sod. But yeah, that means everything I do is the absolute worst thing any parent can do ever, from asking her to pick up after herself to reminding her to wash her hair regularly...you know, normal things parents ask from their kids. I get it, I do. I went through it too and I don't remember it fondly, it was an awful time. Everything pisses you off or makes you want to cry for no reason, so I do try to be understanding but on top of everything else it does involve a lot more deep, careful breathing than I'd like. As for my family, I love them, I really do. But they don't get it so I don't really feel I can talk to them about it. My dad is...well, he's in a new relationship and is now aparently getting married. So that's a big bag of emotions I do not want to open. On the one hand, I'm a grown ass adult so I should just be ok with it, on the other it's weird and very uncomfortable. My dad divorced my mum years ago, so I got used to that but he cheated on mum with some other woman, never met her, never wanted anything to do with her so it was easy to pretend she didn't exist. This time the woman is a very old childhood friend of dad's and not only that but knew mum, she in fact introduced my dad to my mum. So I have to be all friendly and its exhausting. I really don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it, its like...I'm an adult, I should be happy my dad's happy, right? But its just...so weird. I've only ever known my dad with my mum, so seeing him be close to another woman just creeps me out and makes me uncomfortable. I have to go to their wedding too, which will not be fun. I'm being weird about it and not explaining it properly but even I don't know why I'm so uncomfortale with it, so can't really put it into words. Essentially I am anxious, stressed and depressed and would just like everything to just stop for a bit so I can BREATHE.

[warmaidensrevenge]

Always seen you.

Pairings: Eddie x Insecure! Plus size reader x friend! Elio x friend Billy

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

A/n: Hello loves. Welcome back to my series. This is part 18. If you would like to read the parts before. You can access them in the link above. I updated it with every post. I would like to give a special thank you to @salenorona23 for helping me with this next part of the series. I was inspired by the song Sad! by xxxtentacion. I would Also like to point out that this official became my longest fic since I started on Tumblr. So yay!! Maybe it's going on a little too long. But I still love it. And I hope you do too. Anywho, thanks for reading. As always feedback is greatly appreciated. Comments and asks are always welcome. Kay love ya byeeee.

P.s. this part was actually too long. That Tumblr said I hit the maximum words. So I cut it in half. I will post the second part immediately.

Warnings: 18+ language, fluff, angst, heartache, sexual situations, mentions of eating disorder, slow burn and not proof read and no word count.

Summary: You finally got your guy. But something always gets in the way. Does true love conquer all?

Part 18

🖤☺️

The moment Eddie saw and heard Ava call him that he covered up the receiver.

" How many FUCKING times do I have to tell you to not call me that?! You know my girlfriend is the only one who's allowed to. And what are you doing in my room?!"

" I'm sorry Eddie baby. I forgot."

" Seriously Ava. I've had it up to here with you."

" Aww don't be that way. I just wanted to ask again if you wanted to come to dinner with us."

" GET THE HELL OUT!"

" You don't have to be rude!"

"AVA!" Jan yelled. "LEAVE EDDIE ALONE!"

Ava scoffed. " I was just asking-"

" IF YOU DON'T LEAVE RIGHT NOW, SO HELP ME?" Eddie shouted again.

" FINE! Be that way." Ava shouted back, stomping away.

" Baby?"

When Eddie didn't get a response. He called out again.

" Y/n...Angel, are you there?" He clicked the button on the base of the phone to see if it was the connection. But then he heard that beeping when someone hangs up.

" Shit!"

Eddie dialed you again but all he got was a busy tone.

"FUCK!"

He tried four more times and still nothing.

" Baby please." He said to himself.

He tried you all night. But all he was met with was that stupid fucking beeping.

The next morning he finally got the voicemail.

" Baby, please. I can explain. Just call me back. I swear that was nothing. I love you okay."

When you didn't call him back he left another message.

" Angel. Look. Please call me back. I really need to talk to you. Please."

A couple of days passed and you still didn't talk to him. He worried that the relationship was over. And there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen. So he left the tour and got on a plane.

It was just a few days before your anniversary and all you could do was lay in bed. You took the phone off the hook when Eddie kept calling.

You couldn't talk to him yet. You needed time to think. He couldn't be cheating on you with Ava. Could he? He promised to never be alone with her. But then why was she there? And why the hell did he let her call him Eds?

Elio tried to comfort you by saying it was probably just a misunderstanding. But all you could hear was Ava calling him baby. And asking if he was gonna come.

The day before your anniversary Elio came into the room and hit you in the head with a pillow.

" Ouch! What was that for?!"

" Get up and get dressed. We're going out."

" Ugh. No, I just want to sleep."

He hit you again. " Nope. You've been sleeping for the past two days. It's time to get up now."

You pointed a finger at him." If you hit me one more time. I swear I'm gonna kick your ass."

" Ohhh you're sexy when you're angry."

You rolled your eyes.

" Common. Seriously. Get up. Let's go get a drink and dance."

" E, I don't want to. Can we just order Chinese and watch a movie or something?"

" No. You need this. You need to dance the sadness away."

" I don't want to dance."

Elio pouted knowing full well that you would never say no to a pout.

" Fine!" You said standing up and heading for the closet.

Elio smiled. " Great. Now wear something sexy."

You whipped your head towards him. " Umm no. That wasn't a requirement."

" It is now. Just dress in your prettiest dress and let your hair down."

" Uhh do I have to?"

" Yes. If you look good. You'll feel good."

" Uhhh can't argue with that logic." You said sarcastically.

Elio pushed you slightly " Just get dressed and let's go."

" Okay…okay. No need to get violent."

" Oh you want violence. I'll show you violence." He said putting you in a headlock.

You quickly put your leg behind his and pushed him down.

" Don't try me E. I have an older brother who used to wrestle with me all the time. And Eddie showed me a few moves."

Elio gave you a thin lip smile when you said his name.

When you realized what you said you cleared your throat. You held out your hand to help him to his feet. You felt like you were gonna cry again so you turned around and went to change.

When you came out of the restroom you were wearing a powder blue dress with little red flowers on the skirt part.

" Wow. You look great."

You gave Elio a small smile and followed him out the room.

…

" Oh my God! Did you see that one guy in the suit?"

You laughed. " E, he was totally hitting on you."

" No thank you. I prefer them with a full head of hair."

You laughed again shoulder bumping him.

" Thank you for dragging me out of bed. I had a really great time."

" You can thank me later."

You turned your head to look at him.

" What?"

You guys rounded the corner of the dorm building and Elio pointed to the front steps.

Your heart fell to your ass. Eddie fucking Munson was sitting on the steps holding a bouquet of flowers.

You stopped and Elio whispered in your ear.

" You love him. So go talk to him."

" What? How?"

" I talked to him the other day."

" You did?"

" Yeah. I explained everything."

You looked at Eddie and felt tears coming.

" Go talk to him."

" I…"

"Go."

You nodded.

" I'll be back tomorrow."

" And where are you going?"

" Oh me?" He leaned back. " I have a date."

He gave you a smirk and walked away.

You took a deep breath before you went to Eddie. Just seeing him had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Your palms all sweaty and your face feeling hot.

" Hi Eddie."

He looked up and for a split second you caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. But then he gave you such a sweet smile. That you forgot why you even stopped talking to him.

He stood up and jogged the few steps to you.

" Hey Angel. You look beautiful."

" No you."

He chuckled a little and started rubbing the back of his neck. " I uhhh these are for you."

He held out the flowers. It was a mixture of roses and sunflowers.

" Thank you. " You said just above a whisper.

You brought the flowers up to your nose and smelled them.

" They're erm I'm sorry/ I've missed you/ I love you flowers."

You looked at Eddie and his smile was gone. He ran his fingers through his hair then rubbed his chin. He was growing a full on beard.

" What are you doing here?" You asked.

He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground.

" I…I was supposed to come tomorrow and surprise you for our anniversary. But umm…well I needed to see you."

You were quiet. You didn't know what to say. A part of you wanted to just jump in his arms. But the other part was telling you to wait. To listen to what he had to say.

" Baby." He sighed. " Why didn't you tell me Elio was gay?"

You shook your head and looked away. " I was going to. There's a lot I wanted to tell you. But…you were busy."

Eddie reached for your chin to make you look at him.

" I-I should have believed you when you said nothing was going on…I'm sorry for everything."

" Me too. I'm really sorry for not being honest with you from the start. But Eddie…what is going on with you and Ava?"

Eddie let go of your chin when he saw tears in your eyes. " Angel, I know how what happened seemed like something it wasn't. And I get it if you're still pissed at me. " He took a step towards you.

" Y/n I swear to you. Nothing-"

You cut him off by landing a kiss on his lips. His hands shot up to cup your face as he kissed you back.

You pulled away first but Eddie wrapped his long arms around you so you wouldn't go anywhere.

You looked at his beard and smiled.

Eddie smirked when he saw you bite your lip.

" You like it?"

You met his beautiful big eyes and nodded.

He let out a nose laugh. " I knew you would."

" Do…do you want to come up?"

" I would love to. But what about Elio?"

" He said he has a date. He won't be back tonight."

Eddie smiled to himself and ran his finger over your bottom lip. "I missed these lips."

" Then kiss me and don't stop."

He chuckled. " Anything my queen commands."

He kissed you deeply and with such tenderness you just melted right into him.

When things got heated you pulled away again and grabbed his hand leading him to the room.

As you changed you got sad again. You needed to ask Eddie something

Eddie sat on your bed looking at all the pictures you had of you two. He took off his leather jacket and boots. You came out of the bathroom in baggie clothes and your hair in a high bun. Eddie missed seeing you like this. In your glasses, completely comfortable.

You went to sit with him and started fidgeting with your fingers.

" Eddie?"

Eddie got sad too. You hadn't called him Ed's at all.

"Yeah?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. " Why was Ava in your room? And why did she call you what I call you?"

Eddie put his big hand on yours. " She uhh she came in to ask if I wanted to go to dinner with her and the others…and she's been trying to call me that for a while. But I ripped her a new one for it. I've been telling her to stop. But she keeps on doing it…I don't know what to do anymore."

You nodded but didn't say anything.

" You believe me right?"

" I...Yes. I just can't shake the feeling she's going to try something."

"Y/n look at me."

You took a deep breath and met his brown hues.

" I don't know what I can say to convince you other than I won't let that happen. You're the one for me. The only one I want to be with…that's why I came. I came here for you. I cancelled two shows to be here with you."

Eddie put one of your hands over his heart. " This is yours. And it beats just for you."

You closed your eyes and hung your head.

Why did you have to say that?

When Eddie saw that. He was confused. Was that not what you wanted to hear?

" Do you not feel the same?"

You sniffled and pressed your lips together.

" I do."

"Then what's wrong baby?"

You shook your head. " I'm tired of this. I'm tired of fighting with you when we're not together. I'm tired of getting hurt so often. I'm tired of worrying if I'm still enough for you."

Eddie let go of your hand and tried to look you in the eye.

" Why does it sound like you're breaking up with me?"

Your eyes shot up. " What?! No Eddie. I don't want to break up."

" Then what are you saying?"

You reached for his face. But pulled away before you touched him.

" Eddie, I love you. But if we're gonna stay together. Something has to change."

" Do you want me to quit the band? Because I will."

You laughed a little. " Eddieee. No. What I want us to do is communicate. I know I screwed up by not telling you about Elio as soon as I found out. Then that would have saved us two arguments. Also I apologize for not talking to you when I should've. You're just as important to me as I am to you. "

You stood up and kneeled in front of him. You grabbed both his hands and kissed each one before looking up at him.

" Eds. I can't imagine my life without you."

" Promise?"

You laughed again and sniffled holding up your pinky.

Instead of hooking your finger with his, Eddie kissed you. He pulled you to your feet without moving his lips from yours. You held onto his narrow hips as he gently tugged at your hair tie.

He pulled away and looked down at you. Lips all pink and swollen, trying to catch his breath.

You looked down and went for his belt. He leaned back and took off his shirt.

Once he was in his boxers, he took off your shirt and kissed down your neck. All the way down to your plush belly. He got down on his knees and went for the hem of your bottoms. While sliding them down your thick thighs he kissed every inch he could.

His voice was soft but deep. " Hold onto me baby."

Your hands went to his shoulders so he could give you support when you stepped out of your undergarments.

Eddie's fingers ran up and down your legs, causing goosebumps in their wake.

"My beautiful Angel."

Your head fell back feeling his lips and hands everywhere. He hadn't even touched you between your legs yet and he had you almost there.

Eddie watched your every move. He listened to every whimper. He didn't know how badly he needed to hear and see that. And from the only person he wanted it with.

He stood up and put a hand behind your head. Pulling you softly into another kiss.

He felt your warm soft hands on his chest. Slowly going down to his boxers.

When your fingers hooked the elastic Eddie kissed you harder. Swirling his tongue against yours. Tugging at your bottom lip gently. Sucking on it before letting it go. You pulled your lip in and sucked it.

His boxers dropped to the ground and he kicked them away.

Your hands found his curls as he moved backwards to sit on the bed.

You didn't straddle him immediately. You just continued to play with his hair and beard. As his hands and lips went all over your body.

" Eds?"

Eddie hummed.

" Please don't hurt me with Ava."

His lips left your tummy and he looked up at you with sadness in his eyes again.

" Never."

You held up your pinky.

With his eyes never leaving yours. Eddie hooked his pinky with yours.

" I pinky promise….I only want you Angel. Just you…always."

You bent over a little and kissed him with all the love you could find. And Eddie did too.

He scooted higher on the bed so that his back was against the headboard of the bed, holding out his arms for you.

You climbed into his lap and kissed him again. This time with much more heat than the last one. Tongues massaging each other. Bottom lips being tugged on and soothed.

Eddie held onto your bottom as you got to your knees, spreading yourself for him.

He grabbed his aching cock and aligned himself with your entrance, that was already soaking wet for him.

You sighed deeply as you sank down to his lap. Eddie's fingers dug deep into the flesh of your hips. He groaned feeling your warm velvet walls hug him. Feeling them contract around him was ecstasy.

" God." He moaned.

Your soft whimpers drove him crazy. Your warm soft body was a blanket to him. One that he loved to dawn on every chance he got.

You started rolling your hips against his. Searching for bliss that only he could provide.

" I'm yours baby. Only yours."

You moaned at his words. Breathless whines left your lips as you got close.

" And I'm yours Eds. All-all of me. My-my heart...my mind...my body...it's yours."

" I love you. I love you so much."

You slowed your movements feeling Eddie fill you to the brim. Mixing with your love.

You rolled off once you caught your breath. With him pulling you into his arms.

" I love you y/n."

" Always?"

Eddie kissed your forehead. " Always and forever."

…

The few days Eddie spent with you were perfect like always. Then he had to leave you again. You would never admit it. But everytime he left, it broke your heart in ways that couldn't be repaired. So you slapped a bandaid on it and focus on school

A week after he left you got a call that the van's tires came in. Elio smiled when he talked to Billy.

" He sounds hot."

" Umm. Yeah. He's pretty cute. He's definitely your type."

" Is that so?" He smirked. " Well let's go see if I can get a date for tonight's party."

You giggled and grabbed the keys.

When you guys got to the shop, Billy was outside smoking. Greeting you with a gorgeous smile.

" Hey sweets."

Elio looked at you and frowned.

" Umm hi."

" Who's this? Your boyfriend?" Billy asked, giving Ellio a handshake.

" No. No. she's my friend…I'm single." Elio winked.

Billy chuckled and looked at you. " You look nice today."

You furrowed your brow and looked at your pajama bottoms and oversized shirt.

" Uhh thanks."

You met his gaze again and he was giving you a beautiful smile.

" So umm ready for some new tires?"

You nodded.

" Great. Pull her in."

As soon as Billy turned around, Elio nudged you.

" What?" You said walking back to the van.

" Well he's not gay."

" How do you know that?"

" We who prefer the same sex can always tell if someone is or isn't. Besides he was totally eye fucking you."

" No he wasn't. He was just being pleasant."

" Yeah…okay."

You rolled your eyes and drove the van in.

When Billy was working you and Ellio went to get ice cream. He suggested you get Billy some too. To see how he reacts. You didn't think it was a good idea. But Ellio bought him a vanilla cone anyway.

When you guys got back Billy had his shirt off and was lighting another cigarette.

" Hey you. Umm we got you an ice cream. Thought you might want something to cool you down."

" Thanks bud."

Billy took the cone and started licking it. Making eye contact with you.

You looked away and felt the heat rise from your chest to your cheeks.

When Billy saw that he tilted his head back and laughed to himself.

" Ready to go."

" Hmm?" You said looking at him again.

" Your van… she's ready."

" Oh- okay. Thank you."

When he handed you the keys his fingers touched yours. Giving you a shock of static electricity. You jumped and dropped the keys.

" Shit. Sorry sweets."

Billy squatted down and picked them up. When he looked up at you he licked the ice cream again. The way he did it. You could tell he was trying to seduce you.

When he handed them back you cleared your throat.

" Can't lose these. My boyfriend would have a fit."

Billy stood up and changed his demeanor. " So you do have a boyfriend?"

You nodded.

There was an awkward silence until Ellio decided he didn't like it.

" Yeah. He's in a band."

Billy looked away from you to Ellio. " Really?"

" Yeah. He's on tour right now."

" Huh. Would I know them?" Billy asked looking back at you.

You smiled thinking of Eddie and the guys. " Not yet. But you will soon. I can feel it. They're close to having the world hear them."

Billy liked that. Like the way your face lit up with enthusiasm talking about them. His only wish was that you didn't have a boyfriend. Even with that knowledge. He still wanted to get to know you.

" Well if they're metal I'm sure I'll like them."

Your smile got bigger. " They are."

Billy couldn't help the smile that grew on him seeing you happy. He didn't even know you but he knew he loved seeing you like that.

" So…Bily is it." Elio interrupted the little moment you and Billy had.

" Yeah man?"

Elio laughed. " So I'm throwing a dorm party tonight. You should come."

" Yeah? Will you be there?" He directed his question to you.

"She better. She lives with me."

" That's cool. So it's not gonna be a sausage fest?"

Elio laughed again. " No. But if that's what you're interested in, I can definitely change the invite list."

Billy chuckled nervously. " Uhh no. Coed parties are cool with me."

" Great! See you there."

Elio grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the van.

" Hold on E. I have to pay him. And he doesn't have the address."

" Damn. I was trying to build suspense."

You shook your head and went back to Billy.

" Umm do you have something I can write on?"

Billy pulled a pencil from behind his ear and grabbed the clipboard with your receipt on it. You quickly jotted down the address and pulled out your wallet.

You gave him the money and pulled off your copy of the receipt.

" See you later."

" Looking forward to it sweets."

You felt yourself blush as you walked away.

Maybe that wasn't a good idea.

That night your room was filled with people that you never met. You had no idea Elio had so many friends.

It got to the point where even the hallway was crowded. The music coupled with all the drunk coeds, it became a lot to absorb. You even had to kick out a couple making out in your bathroom so you could go. When you came back out there were people on your side of the room touching your pictures. You pushed through the crowd and snatched the frame out of their hands. When you looked over your things you saw that someone had knocked over and broke the snow globe Eddie got you from Arizona.

Tears filled your eyes. Sure it was just a snow globe. But Eddie knew you liked them so he bought you one when he could.

You picked up the broken glass and globe. You looked at it for a second then went outside. You sat on the steps and silently cried.

" Hey sweets. What's wrong?"

You looked up and Billy was coming towards you with a concerned look on his face.

" Oh ummm." You wiped away your tears. " It's nothing."

He sat down next to you. " If it's nothing. Then why are you crying?"

You sighed. " It's just." You showed him the broken globe. " It was a gift from my boyfriend."

" I'm sorry."

Billy was actually very sorry. He found out that night that he never wanted to see you sad.

" You know you can now make it into an ornament. You can just add some string around the cactus and hang it on the rearview mirror. Or on your Christmas tree when you put one up."

You smiled. " Yeah. That's a good idea."

" There she is…you're really beautiful when you smile."

You laughed knowing you looked like shit with mascara running down your face.

" Liar. But thanks for trying."

Billy shook his head and laughed too.

" So uhhh you want to go back to the party? Your friend might get suspicious."

" Yeah. He's probably dancing up a storm right now. Wondering where his dance partner is."

" Well let's not keep you away."

Billy stood up and held out his hand. You put all the pieces of the broken snow globe on one hand and took it. When you guys went back inside you broke off the remaining glass still attached to it and threw it in the garbage.

Still smiling at the cactus, you and Billy went up the stairs to the party.

Elio saw you with Billy and grinned. It was nice seeing you with him. Not that Ellio didn't like Eddie. He liked him a lot actually. The way he treated you when he was there was something Elio only saw with his parents. He knew Eddie loved you with all his heart. And he knew Eddie made you happy. So if you loved him, he loved him too. But he couldn't help but think that you and Billy would make some super cute babies.

When you guys finally got to one another, Elio pulled you to start dancing with him. You giggled when he spun you around. He grabbed Billy's hand after and made him dance too.

Billy was glad he came. Seeing you and Elio messing around was nice. Seeing you was nice.

Billy had to admit. He liked you. But you had a boyfriend. So he had to settle being your friend.

Over the next few weeks. Billy hung out with you and Elio nearly every day. He always brought with him two flowers. One for Elio and one for you.

You told Eddie all about how Billy helped with the van and asked if it was okay that you could be his friend. Eddie replied that you don't have to ask his permission. And that he trusted you completely.

One day you had asked Eddie if he could make it to an award banquet that you had to attend. You were receiving an award for your role in developing a disposable camera called The Fling. It was a great achievement for a freshman. So you and the other members of the team were being honored for the night. Include a few other engineers. But this was the first time an award came with money. Not that it mattered. You were doing just fine. But it was nice to put something in your savings.

Eddie was really sorry he couldn't come. He really was so proud of you. He always was. And he felt bad for missing the night. So he suggested you ask Elio or Billy.

Elio wanted to go too but he had a swim meet that day. And he wouldn't be back in time. Leaving you to ask your other friend.

Billy was happy to escort you to the dinner. More than that. It was the first time you and he spent time alone. Well kinda alone.

Billy had been holding his tongue for a while now. He really wanted to tell you that he had feelings for you. And there were so many times he found a small amount of courage to do so. But then you would bring up Eddie. Or Elio would. Making him change his mind.

It got harder and harder not to tell you that he was falling for you. But he always told himself that if he was your boyfriend and Eddie wanted to tell you he loved you. He would kill him. So he pushed his feelings for you deep down. He even started going on dates. Just to try and find a girl to distract him from you. But what he was searching for in all of them he could never find. That was because what he was looking for they didn't have.

They didn't have the smile that made him smile. They didn't have a laugh that sounded like music. They didn't have grace or humor. They weren't brilliant or geeky like you were. He just had to admit that what he was seeking was the stuff that made you, you.

Though it hurt him being around you. He couldn't not be.

When he arrived to pick you up you were wearing this beautiful off the shoulder burgundy cocktail dress. That was hugging you just right.

" Damn sweets! You clean up nice."

You smiled. " So do you. Where the hell did you find a suit so fast?"

" Borrowed my old man's. But I made it my own."

You looked at his outfit. With his Chuck Taylors and shirt that was showing most of his chest. " I see."

He laughed and opened your door for you. He of course had a flower for you.

" Thank you."

" You're welcome sweets."

Billy closed the door and walked over to the driver's side. When he got in he gave you a smirk.

"Ready?"

" No. But let's do this."

Billy nodded and took off.

…

" Did you get enough to eat?" Billy asked as soon as you guys got back in the car.

" Ugh. No. I don't understand rich people. Like no, this cracker and fish eggs is not enough. And a baked potato?! A potato and butter is not a meal….where's the salt and pepper? What about chives?"

Billy laughed while you shook your head.

"Okay. I was gonna say if you did. There's something wrong with you."

" Please. I like to eat. Obviously." You said gesturing at your large tummy.

" Stop it. You're beautiful. "

You raised a brow at him" I didn't say I wasn't. Just said I like to eat."

" Oh…confident are we?"

You gave him a toothy smile. " Sometimes."

" Well it works."

You gave him a playful push and laughed.

" Let me buy you pizza William."

He turned to look at you when you said his legal name.

" How did-"

" I know your name? Common. Billy is a nickname, sometimes it can be Bill, Will, Willie. Whatever you choose. But it's all short for William."

Billy grinned.

" So pizza?"

" Sure."

" Great! I hope you like extra pepperoni."

" That's all I ever get."

" Well that's perfect. Because I love pepperoni." You said with a smile

When you guys got the pizza you and Billy sat in the parking lot eating and talking.

" Okay okay. I got one. Gandalf versus the Scarlet witch. Annndd go."

" Oh shit….okay." you covered your mouth that was full of pizza.

You chewed vigorously so you could answer.

" Okay. Umm. I have to say. Gandalf."

" Why?" Billy said with one of his cheeks filled with pizza.

" Well let's look at the stats. Gandalf is higher in pretty much everything. Intelligence, strength, durability, and combat. Sure, Scarlett Witch is powerful. But, Gandalf is stronger and older."

Billy laughed. " Okay I agree with that."

You guys sat for a while going back and forth with hero vs hero.

" You know I think you and Eddie would get along."

"You think so?"

" Definitely."

There was a moment of silence.

" Can I ask you a question sweets?"

" Sure."

" Is it hard? Being in a relationship with someone you barely see."

You looked down at your lap. " Yes."

" Do… Do you ever want out?"

" No. What I want is for us to see each other more. But I've accepted that this is how it's going to be."

" Why settle for just that?"

" It's not settling. It's making the best of the situation. See I have loved Eddie for a long time. He was the only person I've ever really wanted to be with. He showed me what it's like to actually be seen. To be desired…Eddie has been everything I wanted in a person. I never believed in soul mates or anything like that. But when I look at him I see my other half."

Billy nodded. He wanted someone like that. Someone who sees him the way you saw Eddie.

" Eddie is a lucky guy."

You smiled. " I like to think I'm the lucky one. Everyone wants to find the one person who feels like home to them. And I was lucky enough to find mine."

Billy's heart sank. He felt that way about you. But he couldn't let himself say that. You were in love with Eddie. And he couldn't get between you two. No matter how he felt about you.

…

Eddie's birthday came up so fast. He was on the road again so you couldn't call him. But he did receive a package. He opened it and found a birthday card and a video tape.

He smiled and popped it in the vcr.

He was immediately met with Elio's face. He was setting up the camera. Elio made a funny face and stood back. Eddie watched as Elio sat on the bed with you.

" Happy birthday Eddieeee!" You both said with a smile.

He laughed.

You looked directly into the camera and gave him a big smile.

" I hope you have the best day Eds. I wish I could be there with you."

Me too. Eddie thought.

Elio got up and stepped out of frame.

" Eds, I can't wait to see you. I love you so much."

I love you too.

" So I really don't think I can top last year's birthday gift. But I'm gonna try…I've been working on a little something. Thanks to Billy I learned a new trick."

Eddie watched you get up and grab something. He grinned when you came back with an acoustic guitar.

"So this baby doesn't slay dragons. But I love her anyway. Her name is Shelia."

Eddie laughed.

He leaned forward on the bed when you started to pluck the guitar strings.

Eddie couldn't figure out what you were playing until you started to sing. You did your own slower acoustic version of Caught Up In You.

🎵

I never knew there'd come a day

When I'd be sayin' to you

"Don't let this good love slip away

Now that we know that it's true"

Don't, don't you know the kind of girl I am

No, said I'd never fall in love again

But it's real and the feeling comes shining through

So caught up in you, oh boy

And I never did suspect a thing

So caught up in you, ohh boy

That I never want to get myself free

And baby it's true

You're the one

Who caught me baby you taught me

How good it could be

🎵

Eddie started tearing up listening to you. And when you kept going, he fell in love all over again. When the song came to an end you looked back into the camera.

" I hope you liked it Eds. Happy birthday my love."

You got up and got closer to the camera.

" I miss you." You blew him a kiss. " Oh and have one for me."

Eddie looked up and saw Gareth in the door way with cupcakes.

Eddie looked back at the screen and you were smiling. The tape cut off and Eddie hung his head and laughed. With tears of happiness rolling down his cheeks.

I love you baby.

...

@chloe-6123 @irishhappiness @idkidknemore @hiscrimsonangel @hellv1ra @browneyes528 @b-irock @erinsingalong @salenorona23 @eddie-is-a-god @screaming-blue-bagel

[olithepoet]

Whumptober Day 1

This is my first tumblr post! I really want to start posting on here so I'm forcing myself to put this out there, even if I don't keep up with it all month. Sorry for any mistakes!

Heres the link to the ao3 if you prefer to read on there! -> https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Whumptober2023/works/50490616

Summary:

Izuku has been overworking himself with training and collapses. Of course, Katsuki is there to catch him.

----------

Izuku was about to get back from training. Katsuki had been waiting all afternoon and had been repeating that same sentence over and over again.

‘He’s about to get back.’

‘He’ll be here in a few minutes

‘Any second now…’

And yet, here he was, still waiting, alone in his dorm.

He was starting to get pissed. Izuku was training with All Might, and Katsuki had warned him to lay off his poor boyfriend. He had been training way too hard, like usual, but it seemed worse lately. If All Might wasn’t taking Izuku out for some much-needed relaxation, and was instead working him so late, he would have to kill him!

He had already yelled at All Might the night before, threatening the same thing. Did he think he wasn’t serious? Because he was, and he would prove it to the old bastard!

In his anger, Katsuki ignored the sound of his door opening behind him. He was fuming, staring down at the homework on his desk that he had completed hours before.

“Kacchan.”

Hearing that hoarse whisper snapped him out of it.

He turned around and saw Izuku there, leaning against the door behind him. He was still grasping onto the knob, even though he had already shut the door. It seemed to be the only thing keeping him steady.

“Where the hell have you been?” He snapped, more out of worry than anything.

“Kacchan…” His boyfriend only whispered again, and Katsuki’s heart pounded. He looked like shit.

“Did that old man work for you for this long? I swear I’ll kill him! What’s he thinking anyway, you’ve trained more than anyone! You don’t need–”

“No, no, Kacchan–” Izuku tried to shut up his angry rambling, but Katsuki didn’t know how else to respond. He was honestly freaked out. He hadn’t seen Izuku like this in a while.

“It was just me, okay? All Might cancel training for some reason…I didn’t want to get behind.”

And Katsuki just stood and stared at his idiot of a boyfriend, because what the fuck? Was he that stupid, to work himself to the point of exhaustion? To go so long without a break? To take no time for himself all week? And worst of all, to worry him?

They were all stupid questions. He knew that his nerd really was that dumb. All Might must’ve canceled after what Katsuki said about him overworking himself, clearly agreeing with what he had said. Of course, Izuku didn’t get that. And he would have to fix this. Like always.

He knelt in front of Izuku and sighed. “You know I told you to take it easy, you idiot. You’re not fucking falling behind. But you will if you keep this shit up! If you won’t listen I’m not gonna keep helping you!” He barked out. Deep down he knew that last part wasn’t true. He would keep helping him. But he wasn’t going to tell Izuku that. He needed to learn his lesson!

Izuku whimpered. “I’m sorry…I…” He could barely speak as his words slurred. Katsuki looked into his face and past his boyfriend's now watery eyes, instead noticing his pale complexion. That wasn’t normal…

Izuku tried looking into Katsuki’s eyes but he couldn’t.

“Hey! Izu!” Katsuki’s anger immediately washed away. He couldn’t pretend to be angry when all he felt was concern. And the tears in Izuku’s eyes as a result of his words didn’t help. “Look at me!”

But Izuku couldn’t focus. His eyes darted around as if he couldn't see.

“Izuku! Did you not hear me? Look!” Katsuki frowned. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Izuku’s head turned to face his hand, but he never got the chance to answer. He tried to, his mouth opening, but when he started to speak, it came out strangled and incomprehensible. He closed his mouth and went to reach for his head.

Taking his hand off the doorknob made him lose balance. He wobbled, and Katsuki watched, helpless, placing his hands loosely onto Izuku’s hips in hopes of stabilizing him.

Then his eyes closed.

Izuku started to fall forward, and Katsuki's hands reached out instinctively to catch him. He immediately stood up, lifting Izuku with him by grabbing under his armpits, and he leaned a certain way so that the limp boy’s head fell onto his shoulder.

He shuffled awkwardly towards his bed and placed Izuku softly onto it. He reached down and lifted Izuku’s legs onto the bed as well, making sure he was in a comfortable position. He placed his hand on his boyfriend's face lovingly, looking at him with concern.

“You idiot.”

Katsuki rushed to the door and half hoped that Izuku wasn’t too out of it and would wake up soon, and half hoped that he would stay asleep for a while. He didn’t want Izuku to wake up while he was gone. That would frighten him, and that was the opposite of what he needed. Katsuki rushed as fast as he could without running.

He reached the elevator and clicked the button to go down. He regretted not using the stairs, and he cursed under his breath at the slow thing. Realistically, he knew this was faster, but that wasn’t the point.

He had already cooked dinner for himself, which inadvertently meant he cooked for Izuku too since lately, the other boy wanted to eat better meals that suited his needs for his training. Izuku had always liked his cooking and Katsuki wouldn’t let Izuku cook for himself, because while he wasn’t completely useless in the kitchen, after a long workout he would just give up and eat whatever was easiest. Katsuki deemed those meals inedible.

He made dinner for Izuku once, to show how much better he was at cooking, and after that, Katsuki led Izuku to believe that he was just stealing his extras.

That wasn’t true of course.

By the time Izuku finished his training, Lunch Rush was done serving food, anyway. It was the same tonight. So, he hurriedly got some food prepared on a plate, the chicken he had cooked earlier that was completely uneaten since Katsuki was waiting to eat with Izuku, and heated it with some other vegetables and rice. Anything to get some nutrients back into his system. He hated to just stand around and wait for the food to finish so he got Izuku a glass of milk too.

Carrying the plate upstairs he realized he maybe had gotten a little too much food. He just wanted the best for his Izuku. The last time he had seen him pass out from exhaustion like this was after his big fight with Shigaraki. Since then, after we all settled back into school again, he had been having instances like this. But not to this extreme.

Well, this was going to be it. Katsuki was sure of it. He was going to get it inside his boyfriend's thick skull that he needed to get a hold of himself, or Katsuki would do it for him.

He made it back upstairs and he sighed with relief when he saw Izuku was still asleep. He put the plate and glass down and sat on the bed next to him.

“Izuku…” Katsuki nudged him, then reached to grab his shoulder and shake him. Izuku blinked for a few moments, with no reaction.

Finally, after far too long in Katsuki’s option, his eyes focus on him. There was no time to waste.

He grabbed Izuku and sat him up forcefully, pulling the plate onto his own lap and cutting the chicken for him. Izuku barely had any time to process what was going on before Katsuki finished, and started shoving pieces into his mouth.

“Kacchan slow down–”

“Eat!”

Izuku took another bite and chewed faster in anticipation, but Katsuki grabbed the milk instead and tilted it into his mouth. Izuku thought he would drown.

When Katsuki was thoroughly satisfied he stopped, and Izuku took the opportunity to stop his crazed boyfriend. He grabbed his hands in the split second that he put the glass down and reached for the fork.

“Stop!”

“Izuku, that wasn’t enough!”

“I know, I know, I’ll eat more, just give me a second!”

Katsuki stares for a moment and then puts his hands down with a sigh. “This is fucking serious Izuku. You can't get mad at me for being worried about you.”

“I know! I’m sorry, I'm just…so scared of falling behind. What if someone gets hurt because I’m not strong enough.” He looks down into his lap.

“Izuku,” he pauses, looking at his boyfriend who has an ashamed look on his face. He wanted to be harsh. To force him to listen, for once. But he could tell he felt bad already. “Is that how you feel? Don’t you understand that doing this to yourself is just making it worse? Izuku, if you keep this up, you’re going to fall behind. You can only get stronger and stay on track if you pace yourself.”

“I know Kacchan. I’m sorry. It’s just so hard for me to accept that sometimes–”

“I know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Izuku sighed. Of course, his Kacchan understood. He always did. He was the only one who could. Izuku was just so thankful he had his Kacchan.

“I can feed myself, Kacchan. I’m feeling a lot better after eating.” Izuku took the fork and continued his meal. He wasn’t too hungry anymore–after all, Katsuki had shoved an unimaginable amount of food down his throat already–but he could tell that he needed more nutrients. And he wanted to make his Kacchan happy.

Katsuki reluctantly let him feed himself.

“Izuku, I’m not allowing you to train tomorrow. Or the next day. You need these days to let your body heal.”

He nodded between bites of rice. “Okay.”

“And how about, next time, I’ll train with you?”

Izuku lit up. He loved training with Kacchan; it was not only a good challenge, but also a fun time to spend together. Katsuki would keep him in check.

“Perfect.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds being Izuku’s chewing. Katsuki eventually rearranged himself to sit beside him and unintentionally began running his hands through the boy’s dark green curls.

“Kacchan…I can’t eat all this…” The boy took a good look down at his plate, a little amused. There were still three pieces left. And he had already eaten three. “You haven’t even eaten yet, have you? Why don’t you have some?”

“I made it for you.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku laughs. “I think if I ate this much it would be more unhealthy than anything. You seriously couldn’t have made all of this thinking I’d eat it…”

Katsuki sighed. He had caught him. “Fine”

Izuku gave him a sidelong look. “You always yell at me to think of myself more, and yet here you are.”

Katsuki was only half listening, having now taken the fork and knife to cut up the rest of the pieces so they could easily share. “Hah?!”

“You weren’t thinking of yourself, were you? You were going to go without dinner for me.”

“What are you trying to say, nerd?”

“Just that you’re being hypocritical. I could say the same things to you.” And Kastuki would’ve quipped back harder, but Izuku looked so proud of himself for that.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s still different.”

“How?”

“Because I’d only do those things for you.”

Izuku smiled. A real smile, one that brightened Katsuki’s whole year. Because, yeah, this probably wasn’t the last time he would have to deal with his boyfriend being an absolute moron, but that was okay. This was real progress and laid the groundwork for them to get through this, together. He trusted that Izuku would do his best.

Even though Izuku’s exhaustion was very prominent on his face, his smile wasn’t hindered at all. He was going to help Izuku do his best, too, just to make sure that smile wasn’t lost.

And that’s exactly what he did, all night, making sure to stay up way later than it took for them to finish that mountain of food, just to rub the pain away from his boyfriend's sore muscles.

[100dayproductivity]

30/100.

No, I have not been here lately. No, I don't feel badly about it. I felt like I was spending too much time writing stuff. But now I'm wondering if I'm not spending enough time writing stuff 🤔

I attempted bullet journaling back in February. Stopped by March. Tried again in May. Have not used it consistently. I tried journaling in it but it wasn't the same as writing on my Tumblr. I've been thinking about why that is. There are a couple of reasons.

Privacy. Strange as it may seem, I feel like I have more privacy writing on a public blog that any random stranger could read vs writing in a notebook that I don't share with anyone. The thing is, with a physical notebook, there is always the potential that someone may read it. Maybe one of my kids will be nosy and look in it. Maybe I'll forget about it and someone finds it in the future and they'll be like, "Oh look at this, grandma's diary, what a weirdo." Whereas on Tumblr, the chances of someone I actually know stumbling upon my unfiltered thoughts is pretty low, and even if they did, they wouldn't "know" it was me. So there's something psychological about it that holds me back when writing in a physical notebook. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but when I re-read my notebook entries, they kind of suck. Not that my Tumblr posts are Pulitzer Prize-worthy or anything, but some of them I re-read and think to myself, "damn, that was pretty good writing right there".

My audience. When I'm writing in a notebook that I have no intention of showing anyone, I kind of don't know who I'm writing to. Am I writing to myself? Am I writing to "Dear Diary"? Invariably I begin to think, what if my kids read this? Either inadvertently or because I decide to share it with them, or because they will inherit all my stupid shit when I die. So then I find myself writing to them. Which then becomes a filter (see 1. above). But on Tumblr, you are my audience. Even if no one ever actually lays eyes on these words I am writing right now, psychologically there is. Because there's always the potential that some random stranger (i.e. "you") will read these words. Case in point: a couple of my posts have garnered "likes". That means someone (probably) read them. Even if most of my posts have no "likes" right now doesn't mean they won't get read and appreciated some time in the future. Maybe far in the future. Who knows? So just by virtue of there being a potential that my posts will get read by "you" helps me write to "you". And since "you" are just a random stranger stumbling upon my post, I kind of have to explain my thoughts and give you context. And I guess this is what gives my writing on here some sort of purpose. Writing to myself in my notebook starts to feel pointless sometimes. Like, why am I explaining this to myself? I already know this! But writing on Tumblr is me explaining my thoughts to you. But here's the thing: once I've explained my thoughts to you, I find that I understand my own thoughts more clearly. Things start to gel. Right? I bet you totally get what I mean. I don't have to explain it to you. Even though I just did. 😝

One final reason I think that journaling on Tumblr works better for me than in a notebook is something that just occurred to me and is really just about practicality. I like journaling my thoughts while reclining on a couch or in bed. It's really hard to write with pen and paper while reclining, as it turns out. So it really becomes an obstacle. Handwriting is terrible. It's awkward and uncomfortable. And writing out words by hand is so tedious! On my phone I just tap tap tap, long words get autofilled, handwriting is never messy...

So there you have it. My essay on why I left off writing on my Tumblr and why I'm back now.

Ok, so now that we've got that out of the way, back to the topic of bullet journaling: as I said, I started, stopped, re-started inconsistently, stopped again... I'm back for round 3. I'm starting with a new journal and I'm going through the previous one and migrating stuff over. The tasks I've migrated over no problem but I also did long-hand journaling (which I called "Reflections") and I'm not sure what to do with it. As per my reasons 1-3 above, I'm not sure I want to keep it. So I'm thinking that any reflections I want to keep, I will migrate to here onto my Tumblr.

So I guess I'll end this post here, and then my next few posts will be migrations or re-writings of my handwritten long-form entries from my bullet journal.

[plasticfigurines]

whoops accidentally posted the update to my personal tumblr. both blogs are me i swear.

Chapter 2!

Links: AO3. FF.net. Wattpad.

Soda sat cross-armed at the kitchen table, looking more like Dad than I'd ever noticed. Same posture, same scowl.

I slithered down the hallway, begging all the saints in heaven that he wouldn't see me. No explanation would appease him once he heard Paul's name, 'cause somehow he hated my Soc friends even more than our father.

"Where the hell you been?"

"Nowhere." I turned around too fast and stumbled forward. "Goin' to bed. You should too."

"You think I'm stupid? In case you ain't seen a clock, it's four in the damn morning."

"Yeah, and?"

"So it's four in the morning!" He slammed his fists against the table."I thought you were dead."

"I left a note on the fridge."

"Oh, this?" Soda crumpled it up and chucked at my head. "It said you'd be home by midnight."

"Pretty sure I wrote by morning and the sun ain't even up yet, so lay off me."

"Don't give me that shit. Despite what you an' Pony think, I can read. And you know what the note didn't tell me? Where you went."

"You my old man or my kid brother?"

"Just tell me where you were."

"Why the third degree?" I hobbled to the sink and filled a glass of water. "You ain't Dad."

"You drunk, Dar?"

"No." I downed it quickly, praying it'd stave off the inevitable hangover. "Not really."

"Not really?"

"Again, you ain't Dad."

"And you're damn lucky I ain't. If I were, I'd beat your ass into next year."

"Well, I'll beat your ass into the next decade if you don't shut up."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I'm your legal guardian, too, and I can end this conversation whenever I want."

"Goddamn it." Soda sprang out of his seat and charged at me. "For the millionth time, a piece of paper don't make you a parent."

"Does too."

"Does not."

I tried to shove him, but I was buzzed to fight. He grabbed my shirt and effortlessly pinned me to the wall. "Tell me where you were."

"I'd rather you gave me a black eye," I dared him, and he socked my shoulder good.

"Aim a little higher next time, an' I might be impressed."

"Just tell me where you were."

"Paul had a house party," I relented. "I had to go."

"Paul?" he shouted. "That piece of shit?"

"I ain't gonna explain my friends to you."

"God, just admit it already—you're ashamed of us." He released his grip, and my knees buckled so hard I almost hit the ground.

"Easy, Darry." He caught me just in time and propped me up against the wall. "Christ, you're blitzed out of your mind."

"I ain't ashamed," I told him firmly. "You really think that?"

"I dunno what to think." He sighed and settled himself on the floor beside me. "Every other weekend, you pretend you're still in high school and do some stupid shit with him. You had to go, huh? You just had to go?"

"Look, I'm sorry."

"Don't even. You ain't sorry."

"Fine, I ain't. I ain't sorry I went, and I especially ain't sorry it pissed you off. Not when you've been out all night—oh, how many times was it again?—six times this month?"

"Six times last month," he corrected me. "I ain't been nowhere this month, and know why? 'Cause I've been working my ass off to pay the bills you blew off."

"No way." I shook my head. "I paid 'em. Every last one."

"Nope."

"The hell do you know about bills anyway? You're just a sixteen-year-old kid."

"More than you apparently," he scoffed, "seeing as I paid them."

"Bullshit."

"You wanna see the check blanks?" he asked. "Hell, I even had to call the electric company and beg them to give us another week. They were gonna shut our power off."

"I was gonna take care of it."

"Then why didn't you?"

"I … I don't know."

"Bullshit. You know. You just won't say it."

"All right, fine, we ain't got the money," I admitted. "We're flat broke. Happy now?"

"No. You should've told me, you blasted idiot. I'm making enough at the DX. I could've helped."

And that's exactly what I was afraid of—that he would pay when I should've just had my shit together. "You didn't have to do that, Soda."

"The lights are on"—he gestured at the ceiling—"so I'd say I damn well did."

"Shit." I pulled my knees to my chest and pressed my face into the denim. I hadn't felt this lost, this stuck, this small in a long time. The electric bill … yeah, I blew that off to buy groceries. Then, another bill came and another and another and another. Then, Pony's track fee and the doctor bill from his physical, and finally, I stopped checking the mail. No use when I had twelve cents in my checking account.

At least Paul bought all the booze this time, but I blew half the previous paycheck on liquor. It was my turn to buy, and I just wanted to pretend my life was anything other than it was now. I wanted to pretend so fucking bad.

"I was gonna pay it," I continued, needing him to believe me. "Honest, I was. It's just the company don't pay me what they did Dad. I'm low man on the totem pole."

"I know. Seen your paystubs."

"I don't wanna scare you, but it's a shitshow." I looked up and met his eyes. He looked as overwhelmed and out of it as me. "I'm gonna need a third job or—no, screw it. It won't happen anyway. I'll find a way. I have to."

I'd find a way, and I wouldn't make this his problem. Good parents wouldn't do that to their children, and I was supposed to be a parent now.

"You … you won't have to." He blinked faster, body tensing up. "Already took care of it, and there'll be an even bigger check next week. I'm full-time now."

"How? You been skipping school?"

"Dropped out."

"No ..." My brain refused to process his words. This was all a drunk nightmare, and I'd wake up tomorrow with a heartbeat in my skull.

"I dropped out," he said. "Already a done deal, and I ain't going back no matter what you say."

"You should've asked me first."

"Ain't your decision."

"The hell it ain't! Jesus Christ, Soda, what'll our caseworker think?"

"Don't. Don't even start that shit with me. You know what'll piss her off even more? Unpaid bills. Our legal guardian getting wasted and staying out all night. I was never gonna graduate anyway, and you know it."

"You won't be able to pay our bills from a boy's home."

"Fuck you, man." Soda jabbed my arm. "You keep saying they'll put us in a boy's home, and it ain't gonna happen. Probably cost the state more money to take us away than to just let us be."

"I don't wanna take any chances. You dropping out is a losing bet."

"They don't give a shit about kids like us," he kept on, not paying a lick of attention to anything I'd said. "Probably just think we're gonna wind up in prison eventually, so why try."

"Don't you talk shit like that. No one's going to prison." He glanced away, staring off at the cracked wall. "And you could still graduate."

"No, I dunno how to make you finally understand, but I really couldn't," he insisted. "Hell, I get words mixed up just trying to read the newspaper sometimes. Maybe your note really did say by morning. I dunno. You really think I could graduate?"

"Mom did."

"Mom's dead."

I swallowed the bile creeping up my throat. I didn't know if it was the booze or my nerves, but it burned so bad my eyes watered. "You can't." I tried to sound stern, but everything kept flooding out anxious and desperate. "I'm your legal guardian, and I said so."

"Don't really care what you say," he said, deadpan. "An' maybe you oughta start caring less about what the state thinks you're doing and more about what you're actually doing."

"Don't do this," I pleaded, a last-ditch attempt. "C'mon, you can't.

"Already done."

My breath hitched, and I drove my face back into my knees. I wanted to yell, I wanted to scream, I wanted to punch every last tooth out of his mouth, but all I could do was cry for the first time since the accident.

But at least I was alone then. Hell, I even kept it together at the funeral, and now I was sobbing big ugly tears that only fell harder the more I tried to suppress them. "Sorry," I choked out. "Go to bed. You don't need to see this."

"Nah, I ain't going nowhere." He slung an arm around my shoulder and squeezed me tight. "If it makes you feel better, I ain't fine either. Sometimes it feels like I've never been fine."

And it never would be fine again, or so the liquor was telling me. Lord, Mom was gonna haunt me for the rest of eternity. It'd only been two months, and I'd already failed Soda—should've realized he wasn't just skipping, should've punished him even if he were just skipping.

"But we will be fine … I think." Soda's voice pulled me back to the present. "It has to get better, right?"

"Yeah, little buddy, it will."

It probably wouldn't, but he needed to believe it would, and I'd have promised him anything after what he'd just given up.

"Pony?" I rapped a fist against his door. "Can I come in?"

"Nope."

And that's what I got for trying to be polite. "Too bad." I barged in anyway and took a seat next to him. "We need to talk."

"How 'bout you just tell me how long I'm grounded instead?" He threw his back against his bed and stared at the ceiling. "And then leave me the hell alone."

"Fine, you're grounded till you're married," I said. "Then your wife can nag you instead."

"Fine by me. Now get the hell out of my room."

"Enough with this attitude." I poked at his shoulder. "Sit your ass up and listen to me, damn it."

He rolled his eyes and ignored me.

"I said sit up." I grabbed his arms and pulled him upright. "Christ, I swear you've aged me forty years. Now wipe that moody look off your face before I deck you."

"I just want you to know I ain't sorry," he began, looking me dead in the eye as he spoke. "I ain't sorry for shit. Only sorry I got caught. You're wasting my time and yours."

"Well, consider me wasting your precious time part of the punishment."

"Fine, but you're still wasting your own time. Soda already let me have it."

"Soda ain't your guardian. I am."

"He's old enough to be my guardian."

"Only barely."

"And how old were you when they named you guardian?" he asked. "Pretty sure you were the same age Soda is now."

"Shut up."

"Fine by me. You were the one who wanted to talk, not me."

"That's it. That's fucking it." I sprang up and bolted for the door. "If I have to spend one more second in here with your smart mouth, I'm gonna wind up incarcerated, so congratu-fucking-lations. You get your wish. I'm leaving you alone before I kill you."

"Bye."

"This ain't over." I shook my finger violently. "Don't you dare think it's over."

He flipped me the bird, and I slammed his door so hard that three pictures fell off the hallway wall and shattered.

"Shit, let me help you," I heard a voice behind me before I could even grumble out a string of colorful words.

"Steve? The hell are you doing here?"

"I'm always here." He shrugged and started picking up the shards. "You said it yourself. I practically live here."

"So I guess you heard the whole fight, huh?"

"Half of it. Damn kid's got an even smarter mouth than me."

"C'mon, that's pushing it. Least he never told me I'm all brawn, no brains."

"Look, I ain't one to give advice." Oh, but he was. Lots and lots of advice no one ever asked for. "But right now you're trapped in your brains and not using your brawn. Quit arguing with him. Show him you're the boss."

"If you're saying I should hit him, no fucking way."

"No, dumbass. I'm saying quit arguing with him. Every time you open your mouth is another opportunity for him to say something that'll piss you off. He wants to fight. C'mon, you have to see that."

"I guess." No, Steve was right. Dead on right, but his ego didn't need to hear it.

"Listen, after we clean this up, I gotta talk to you about something with Pony. I tried to tell Soda, but he thought I was lying."

"What? That he plagiarized half of Will Rogers' assignments with Curly?"

"Nah. I think everyone but you heard about that. Something else. It's important."

Before I could ask what, Pony stormed out of his room and glared down at Steve. "Quit making shit up about me."

"All right, wiseass," Steve tore into him. "Unlike your brother, I ain't arguing with you. Option one, you tell him. Option two, I tell him. You know I ain't bluffing, so what's it gonna be?"

Pony turned about five shades of red and bolted out the front door. Didn't even bother closing it behind him.

Steve and I both ran after him, but before we even made it to the porch, I heard my truck engine rev and tires squealing.

"Left the keys in your truck, huh?" he just had to point out. "Real smart."

"Where the fuck is your car?" I demanded.

"Unlucky for you, I walked here. Honest, he'll probably come home faster if we don't chase him anyway."

"You know, your all brains, no brawn advice don't seem to be working. Maybe if you tried arguing with him, he'd have stuck around to have a fight."

"Don't know about that. Don't really know who he is anymore to tell you the truth."

"Tell me everything you know." I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Now."

“Imposter”

Links: AO3. FF.net. Wattpad. Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns all characters. Summary: Two years after the accident, Darry still can’t reconcile his roles as brother and parent. Post-book, Darry-centric fic.

Keep reading

[vasiktomis]

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

[harleenfleck]

“Despite the danger (Part 2)”

Arthur Fleck/Joker x Reader

Summary: Joker is the love of your life; despite the reputation it carries. You know that, but you don’t care, after he rescued you from a horrible hole you were trapped in. Now, you both live your lives together, but you ignore all the risks that come with being the lover of the Clown Prince of Crime.

This is the continuation. Part one here (Idk how put links in tumblr AAAAAA)

Warning: Description of violence, smut (Oh yeah), unprotected sex, oral sex, and fluff cause why not.

Words: 3.2k

Notes: OMFG I’M SO SORRY I KNOW I KNOOOW It took me about a month to post the second part, you have no idea what happened to me in all these weeks! New job, a little move, trying to survive, creative block (I’m suffering with this one), I almost itchy a scorpion, I didn't have Internet for two weeks, for a moment I thought I was in contact with someone with COVID-19 and fortunately that someone was sick from something else (Pneumonia in case you had doubts), I started to be attracted to a guy who turned out to be a criminal (HAHA later I'll tell you how this shit was over) anyway, too many weird things happened to me.

Finally I can post the second part, and the truth is that it is the first time I write smut or something in English :'0 honestly I think it was sexy, but I still feel a little ashamed (that’s the correct word?) to post it, ahhh, it's weird the feeling. But wow, I think the thing was beautiful:3 I honestly hope I can beat the creative block and keep writing more stories like that, shit, anyway, Arthur it’s my beautiful muse.

Time for thanks! Thank you to the Microsoft translator for helping me translate things I don't know into English, thank you to Lana del Rey for helping me get out of the creative block with your songs, my two neurons for not giving up and doing synapses, and thank you for your patience <3

And fuuuuckinggg agaaaain the fucking same apology, I’m sorry if I make some grammatical, spelling or writing mistakes, english is not my native language blablablablablalaaablablablaba just enjoy the porn.

Hope you like it! <3

...

 He’s out of his mind.

He was yelling at his men to do the damn job, to search the whole damn city. His beauty doll is missing

You were missing, you weren’t by his side, and that was a tragedy.

He was going crazy, and how cannot be? His enemies don’t leave no clue, just the threatening note. He read it, trying to find something, some sign. But nothing.

“In every fucking corner! In every fucking street! In every fucking neighborhood! I don’t fucking care! You have to find her!”

He yelled at his men in clown masks, they were orders that were to be fulfilled. But everything was more complicated than it seemed.

“We've searched all over Gotham and there's no sign of her”

“Keep looking!” He screamed again.

The clowns have never seen their leader so tense and stressed. It wasn't for nothing. His darling was kidnapped by something he had done, and time ran. Anything could happen to you with every hour wasted in found you.

"Mr. Joker, we've searched everywhere, but there's no way to find her, do you really think it's worth it?"

“What? What do you mean by that? What are you implying about that?”

“I mean Mr. Joker, you found her in a disgraceful place... You could do that with any other slut, you can find another-”

Bang!

Before he could keep opening his mouth, that man was already dead.

"I don't have time for this stupid shit! You must don’t give a shit about my doll's past! You must do your fucking damn job!"

The rest of the clowns, seeing the violent scene, came out of the room. Joker ordered two of his men to undo the body.

Sitting on an elegant red couch, he took a hand to his face and breathe out heavily.

Where were you? Would you be ok? You’d be safe?

Every question stressed him. And he felt guilty leaving you alone, he shouldn’t have done that.

Knowing that sometimes his clowns could become useless, he got out of his seat and walked outside of the room. "If they don't find you, I'll do it myself”

He got into the car and went to Gotham.

“My y/n, where are you?”

…

Your hands behind you back were tied. Your feet too.

Could barely remember what happened to you. Hours before, you were reading a book in complete calmness, but someone broke in the house. You screamed and ran for the emergency gun, but the assailants caught you first and put a damp fabric in your face.

You slept soundly for a couple of hours, when you woke up with a blindfold. Immediately, you went into fear.

“Look! The bitch woke up”

Your eyes saw again, they took you the bandage off. Looked at some men you didn’t know who they were.

“Just look, the little whore of Joker” One of the kidnappers took you by the jaw “Are the rumors true? The Joker pulled you out of a brothel after you fuck him so good?”

A big spit came into the kidnapper's eye. You pointed very well at his face.

“Fuck you!” Was the only thing you yell to him “That's something you don't give a shit!”

The others men laugh a lot, making fun of your little defense. The affected person rubbed himself with a tissue and you realized spitting him was a big mistake.

Scared, you looked everywhere, you had to find a way out, you knew that if you stayed there, they could kill you, but there is no escape.

“What idiot would want a whore like his couple?” The kidnapper spoke as he approached you and lifted you from the ground "Although if it's true that you were a prostitute... We could take advantage of that…”

They looked at you with malevolence, you knew your Joker had done terrible things to them, and they revenge were going to drop it on you.

“No, no, no! Don't you dare! If you do, you'll be dead men!”

“Maybe, but the first one to die will be you”

They pulled out a knife right in front of you, played with this one, gently passing it down your chest and face.

They started ripping the fabric of your dress. You cried. They laughed.

Please Arthur come, come for me, please Arthur

“We are three, you're going to have to give each of us pleasure at the same time, you know what that means? Anyway, you're already experienced in that”

They took your dress in pieces, staying only in your underwear, they began grotesquely touch your body and make fun of you. You just implored that it wasn't painful and that your death wasn't so violent.

Although that was improbable.

You closed your eyes, accepting your unfortunate destiny.

A violent noise was heard, and one of the men fell to the ground.

"Leave her alone right now!"

Hearing that scream you felt in heaven, protected. You were safe. Joker was there, pointing the bastards who wanted to hurt you with his gun.

“Oh! Look who's here! Just when we were going to have our banquet, don't you want some?”

Another one fell to the ground. You tried to escape the only one left alive, but he catched you, putting the knife around your neck.

“Let her go of or you're going to regret it!” Joker screamed in a tone of voice you'd never heard before. He was heard so rude and furious, and at once determined.

“Let her go? You ruined what my men and I built for years; I'll take away what you cherish most in front you. And you can’t do anything to avoid it”

Joker's blood boiled with angry. How did he dare to hurt you?

"I won't warn you again, let her go right now, NOW!"

The guy, just for enjoying Joker's furious, put the knife down and cut your abdomen, you cried in pain. Joker went crazy, and when the knife stopped touching your skin, bullets were raining at your kidnapper.

You ran away, tripped and fell, but you could see Joker unloading the bullets on his enemy.

No enemy was left alive. You were free. But you were so scared too.

Joker looked at you, put away his gun and ran to you.

"Arthur!" You hugged him very tightly.

"y/n are you okay? He cut you, that motherfucker, I must to take you to the doc—"

"No! Please Arthur, take me home! Take me with you!"

"But y/n, you’re hurt—"

"It's nothing! I swear, just take me with you!"

Crying, you begged him to get you out of there. Joker took off his red coat and put it on you, covering you. He hugged you and both got out of there.

…

You two came home. He carried you in his arms and you hugged his chest. He left you in the bed while you still crying.

"I won't let you get hurt again, my doll" Arthur drew his fingers to your face, drying away your tears. He hurt him see you crying.

"Arthur, I thought I'd never see you again”

"No, y/n, I'm here, I'll always be here. No one will hurt you again"

You hugged him a lot, you didn't want to let him go. Despite the facade of the worst criminal of all and Gotham's worst lunatic, he saved and protected you.

Arthur left the room for a moment and came back with a medicine cabinet. He healed your wound while you were trying to relax, but that was almost impossible. Once you bandaged, Arthur lay down next to you, and you couldn't help hug him. He did the same thing, caressing your hair and smelling your scent, like the first time he and you met.

You and him slept soundly. You were so afraid you wouldn't sleep in that bed again. However, your night wasn't quiet, you dreamed of those three horrible men again, you dreamed that those men did what they wanted with you, and Arthur never appeared.

You woke up upset, in tears again.

But at the same time, you calmed down, because you were home. Arthur woke up with your crying, he immediately paid attention to you.

"What's going on? y/n, what happened?"

"A nightmare"

He took you carefully and kissed you on the forehead. You hugged him back, you clung to him, you never wanted to leave him in your life.

He really is the love of your life.

And you wanted to thank him for being.

"Arthur..."

"Yes?"

You took air, you never thought you’d be shy to ask Arthur that, even when you did this night after night.

“Could you love me, please?"

The eyes of Arthur lit up, and a big sense of desire ran through his body. But despite that, you were always above everything.

"y/n… But you’re hurt"

"Art… I’m fine, it was something superficial, it's nothing” And that was true, but on his face could you see he wasn’t so convinced “Please Arthur, I need your love”

He looked at you with concern, with silent, perhaps he feared to hurt you.

But at the same time, he looked at you with desire, in need and lust.

Arthur needed you very badly too, but he was afraid to revive your pain. However, you started kissing him, at first shyly, because you didn't know what his reaction would be.

But you knew him perfectly, you knew that with a simple touch of yours he could go crazy. He gently took you from the back of your head and quickly got on top of you. His hands started stroking your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His fingers started playing with the straps of your bra and at the same time left little kisses on your breasts.

Fear left your body, and desperately asked for Arthur.

Arthur took your bra off and threw it somewhere in the room. Hypnotized, he admired your body. You blushed, he always saw you as a deity, even though you two made love a thousand times before.

"You're the most fucking beautiful woman I've ever met"

He bit his lip when he saw you. You, on the other hand, put the shyness aside, your hands went to the buttons on his yellow vest, unbuttoning them. Arthur noticed your intentions and helped you with that. You did the same thing with his turquoise shirt, looking now his chest.

You exhaled. You kissed him deeply, his tongue entered your mouth, and you couldn't help pass your hands through his chest and abdomen.

Without warning, you started to kiss his neck and shoulders, he didn’t wait that, but with a smile, he let you continue. You kept kissing him, went down to his red pants. His lust trapped in that red pants was already evident.

With little kiss on the fabric of his pants, you unbuttoned and zipped down. You looked him before continue. Arthur looked at you in need, desire and a huge smile on his clown face.

You backed off his pants and his underwear, his length appeared on your face and something inside you burned. You took it with your hand and let a little kiss in the top.

With more desire, you pass your tongue, sucking it, you really enjoyed that moment, more when you put it in your mouth and heard his deep moan.

"Damn it, y/n!" Arthur almost cried out loud. He was wet in lust, he looked at you with his green eyes, saw as you gave him pleasure, as you loved making him feel good. He took your hair, started directing the movements.

You relaxed your throat, took some air and got on with your work. You used your tongue to drive him crazy, and hearing his moans caused you to get wet. “Fuck! y/n you… you’re amazing…”.

You viewed that he grabbed the sheets with his free hand, his head was back and his chest became large and small as he breathed deeply. You could think he was close to finishing. But he decided to change things.

He took your hair and forced you to apart himself, you looked at him a little confused, but his gaze said he was going to back to you everything you caused him. Taking your shoulders, he dropped you in bed. He quickly got between your legs, starting to play with the elastic of your lace panties.

He dropped your panties, stared hungry at what these were hiding. And he realized you were already wet.

"Art... Do-Don't be so rude, please" You pled him timidly. Arthur blinked, setting aside his desire, remembering what you had spent the last night. He looked at your reddened face, and felt slightly guilty. He didn't tell you, but he thought maybe he scared you.

"Of course not, my doll" slowly lowered his face until you reached your entrance "If you want to stop, I will, just say it y/n" kissed one of your thighs, and seeing you, started playing with his tongue inside you.

Now, it was your turn to yell.

“Oh fuck!” You remember why Arthur loved that game. He was very skillful. He kissed you, licked you, played really well down there. You took his green hair between your fingers, begging him to go deeper. You heard a little laugh.

“I want you Arthur…” You couldn't take it anymore, you started begging him, as tears of pleasure fell down your cheeks “Please Art, I want you, make me yours…”

He didn't listen to you, he just kept licking you, and you couldn't do it anymore. You cuming in his mouth, and he drank you all.

Bastard you thought You wouldn't let me do the same with you

As you recovered from the orgasm, he stands up, his makeup was already a mess, but that's what you loved, as you could see Arthur and Joker at the same time.

“Come here, boy” You extended your hand to him. He took it and placed himself on top of you "I really want you for me”

“You just want me?”

“Why the question?”

"You seem to need me" Arthur kiss your hand, as you felt the rub of its length in your entrance, he was torturing you.

“Arthur, please…”

“Please what?” He passing his tongue in your hand and finished with a kiss.

“I-I need you…”

“Yes darling?” He saw you again with those emeralds that drove you crazy. How much you love him, and how much he loves you "Did you know I always need you, y/n?" With that deeply voice, he began to play again, giving small blows with his tip, causing you to moan.

“Y-Yeah…” Your voice became trembling at the end of that word “Arthur, please…”

“Please what?” He repeated that question again while without warning, he passed his tongue through your breast, provoking you more and more.

“…Fuck me…” You didn't ask him, you pleaded him. He laughed a little, and kissed you on your lips, looking for your tongue with his. And as your tongues fluttered in your mouths, he entered in you.

You moaned in his mouth, that strange sense of pain and pleasure was so addictive to you. He moved inside you, going out and in. You could hear him moan, and that excited you more, hearing his voice full of pleasure.

With more desire, you hugged him, moaned and cried. You didn't want anyone else in your life. You only want Arthur, just him.

It was so much pleasure and delight that you even forgot the wound on your abdomen.

You raised your hips just to join him more. Arthur kissed your neck, while he too got lost in lust. The bed hit the wall hard, it could break at any time, and you wouldn't mind. You two couldn't separate, nothing could separate.

You didn't know how much time was going on, but every time Arthur made love to you, time seemed to stop alone for the two of you.

“Arthur…” You cried his name “I love you… I love you”.

“I love you, y/n” you heard his hoarse voice against your ear again. He raised his head, only to see you adore this intimate moment “I love you too”

You kissed him, so much passion overflowing. You felt close again.

Before you could tell him, your body couldn't keep it anymore and gave into the pleasure, you screamed so loud. Arthur began to penetrate you slowly and deep at the same time, prolonging your orgasm, making it more torturous and pleasurable.

Breathing deeply, you looked at Arthur, taking his cheek with your hand, you still felt weak, and loved too.

He came out of you, and he started masturbating in front of you. "Could you help me, doll?" Oh yes, you knew that meant.

You knelt in front of him, took his member and carried him into your mouth. He tried to suppress a groan but failed. A few seconds later he made you stop, and you'll look him in the eye from where you were.

"You want it, don't you, doll?" you didn't answer, you just moved your head up and bit your lip. Like the first time you saw him. You began to masturbate him and kiss his member.

He caressed your head, closed his eyes. If that wasn't heaven, he didn't know anything else it could be.

His body tightened, and his breathing became heavy “y/n, I’m gonna coming, come here”.

You stopped, opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue. With a little scream from him, you got his climax in your mouth. Every drop fell into your mouth, and some escaped through the corners of your lips. He tasted so good; you loved his taste.

Arthur took a deep breath, his eyes were still under in his eyelids, recovering. He lowered his head and opened his eyes, watching you. You gave him a naughty smile. He caressed your cheek, and stroked you with his thumb.

"Where have you been all my life?" For a moment he thought about it, but he really said it. And you blush at those words. The naughty smile was replaced by a shy smile.

"Lost, like you, my love"

Smiling at you, he went to kiss you one more, one more loving, more romantic. “Arthur Fleck, you really are the love of my life” You said to him in the middle of the kiss. You could feel it how he trembled at your words. He separated from you and looked you in the eye.

“You too, y/n, you’re the love of my life”.

He kissed your cheek and pulled aside some locks of hair that fell on your face. "Come here" Took your hand "Look at you, you're a mess, we're going to have to clean you up"

You knew that was just the beginning, it was going to be a long day.

But you didn't care because you loved him, you loved Arthur Fleck, and Joker too, despite the danger. You didn't really care about danger, Arthur would always protect you from adversity, and somehow, you also protected him.

End

[allofthefeelings]

Hi. I forgot that sad endings exist, and now, I'm scared stupid after your last BW movie post. She's dead already! I want something close to happy! (Oh god, I hope the fanfics come through 😭😭😭)

(Before I begin, I would also like you to know that, while this is over 4000 words long, I did cut a several-paragraphs-long digression comparing the BW movie to Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas. You’re welcome.)

I know I’m once again outing myself as an optimist here, and I’m sure I’ll also end up getting smug asks in four months when much of my speculation is wrong, but what the hell. If I was on this tumblr to be right I would have made a LOT of different decisions.

So.

I really, truly don’t think we’re going to get a sad ending.

But the question is, how does it achieve a not-sad ending? Or, to completely re-frame and re-structure: for a character like Natasha, what exactly is a happy ending?

Buckle in, because this gets long.

I think we can all agree that, by definition, we’re starting the movie from a point of melancholy at best, just because we know that in 2023 Natasha will be dead. She doesn’t get to ride into the sunset in any way, shape, or form. Every other solo movie- even the ones with tragic endings, like Thor Ragnarok’s destruction of Asgard and a large portion of its people- have given characters a path forward and the odds that even if this won’t give them a happy ending, it gives them a way towards one. It ends with hope. There isn’t room for that here, for obvious reasons. But what there is room for- and this is, ironically, achievable because of one of the major flaws of IW- is the idea that she did achieve growth, and then had six years to live the life she wanted.

Or, not the life she WANTED, which probably would not have been one part on the run/five parts half of society obliterated by Thanos. Let’s say she had the chance to live a terrible life self-actualized.

IW’s complete and utter lack of meaningful characterization for 90% of the cast means that we don’t really have a sense of where Natasha was in that movie. That gives a lot of room to play with, to put Natasha at the end of the BW movie in a place that she wants to be in. In other words, they can retroactively argue that the reason Natasha isn’t given room to grow in IW is that she had achieved her growth in between CW and IW.

Which, look. Doylistically this is beyond bullshit. Doylistically this is actually offensive, and if they’re looking to retroactively placate us about how Natasha’s arc went, it really doesn’t work. I’m not talking about what was intended, or what was achieved; I don’t think this is either of those. I’m talking about what we can choose to read into it.

And, frankly, as a Natasha fan, that’s pretty much all we do anyway. I can argue (and clearly have argued) her arc for ages, but that’s all the work I’ve done, and you (collective, Natasha fans) have done- not the work the text has done.

None of this is remotely answering the question. But I think it’s necessary groundwork to begin to answer the question.

Because what the BW movie can give us is that growth arc that takes place in the negative spaces of canon.

Well, first of all, the BW movie gives us the fact that things happen at all in the negative spaces of canon. I know I’ve discussed this already, but it’s worth mentioning again: the way audiences are supposed to read texts is that everything pertinent happens on screen. Even supplemental texts that are considered canonical (cut scenes, novelizations, official tie-in comics, movie scripts) are deemed inherently less valuable because they aren’t on the screen. This movie affirms that important events are happening off-screen, to everyone- or at least everyone who isn’t front and center.

This is, again, infuriating, and I feel like when I say this I’m inadveretently contributing to justification. That is not my intention. Natasha’s growth should have been on screen and should have been seen as important. I hate that it’s reduced to a single movie after ten years and the character’s death. I don’t think this justifies it. AT THE SAME TIME, I think this opens space for us to look at lots of characters who haven’t gotten the screen time they deserved.

(Like, they may never give Rhodey the movie he deserves, but at least no one can tell us that if he did something worth seeing it would have been on screen. This movie’s existence is a rebuttal of that. This is a digression but one I’m gonna keep making until everyone starts casually referring to awesome shit Rhodey did off-screen because WHY THE FUCK NOT, YOU CAN’T PROVE IT DIDN’T HAPPEN, “IT DIDN’T HAPPEN ON SCREEN” IS NO LONGER PROOF OF ANYTHING EXCEPT THEY HAVEN’T DONE THE SET-IN-THE-PAST MOVIE YET. Y E T.)

But we also get the possibility of growth, and to analyze what growth means for Natasha’s character.

So here is an issue: I can tell you, with a frankly absurd amount of confidence, what I read Natasha’s arc as. I can lay it out from film to film, I can point to key growth moments, I can read a lot into every scrap that made it into the final cut and I can tell you exactly why, and I feel like if you dig into my history you’re going to find a lot of me citing specific scenes to make my point so I’m not going to go too in-depth on an already-long post that is getting exponentially longer. I think that Natasha’s key arc is in figuring out who she is and what she needs, and how to be a person rather than a reflection of what is asked of her. I think that the mirror imagery in the trailer and in the SDCC/D23 BW footage lends credence to this being a key theme of the movie.

But I have absolutely no idea if I’m right, because the MCU has never considered Natasha to be important enough to be the focus, and as a result I read her arc mostly through the ways she mirrors other characters’ stories, usually to show their strengths by comparison. I do my best to make arguments that are textually supported, but at the same time, it’s like describing the sun entirely from the way that its light reflects off the moon.

So I can say that for the BW movie to be satisfying, it needs to offer completion to her arc, which is then capped in IW/Endgame but would have reached its climax in the BW movie. But since I cannot confidently tell you what her arc has been so far, I can’t figure out exactly how that arc could be satisfactorily completed. Which means, after SEEING the movie, I will have to retroactively figure out how they saw her arc, and then figure out if this was a satisfactory way to end it.

But an argument done in hindsight is colored by what I’ve already seen, and that’s a cheat. So let’s start over.

Here is what we know:

Natasha was taken from her family very young (Endgame: didn’t know her father’s name). As a child, she was abused and manipulated by the Red Room (Agent Carter; Age of Ultron). She was trained to be a Black Widow, did terrible shit for them for a while, defected, became a mercenary, did terrible shit for the highest bidder (Avengers). Clint was sent to kill her but made a different call and brought her in to SHIELD (Avengers). Natasha quickly rose in the ranks and became one half of a STRIKE team watched over by Fury’s right-hand man, Coulson (Avengers). Natasha also became very close with Nick Fury, the head of SHIELD (IM2, Cap2). At some point in there she was shot by the Winter Soldier (Cap2). She was one of the people behind putting together the Avengers Initiative, identifying Tony Stark as not qualified (IM2), and recruited into the team herself (Avengers). She did not leave the Avengers teams for the next 11 years; she was on the first iteration (lasting through Age of Ultron), the second (Age of Ultron through Civil War), and then the Secret Avengers (which we can now assume starts post-BW through Infinity War) and Avengers 3.0 (five-year gap team), as well as the Quantum Realm Team-Up Team right up til she got yeeted off Vormir.

We’ll set Secret Avengers and Team 3.0 aside for the moment, as they’re things that will exist post-BW movie canon.

Natasha’s narrative role has often been to be so amazing that when she’s bested, we know the other person is really good. The best way for me to pull this together into a coherent throughline is that Natasha tends to be bested by people with passion and emotional stakes. When Natasha is just doing her job, but Pepper cares about Tony or the Dora Milaje care about T’Challa, she is outmatched. In Cap2, when Natasha cares deeply about SHIELD and who she’s loyal to, she is able to outmatch everyone she faces, but since she’s a secondary character and her act isn’t as highly visible on screen, her heroism isn’t as spotlighted.

(That said, make no mistake, WE WILL BE COMING BACK TO HER HEROIC MOVE IN THIS MOVIE.)

Her role has also been, as I mentioned earlier, to be a mirror to the white male heroes. She mirrors Tony in IM2, Clint in Avengers, Steve in Cap2, and Bruce in Ultron. I can make a strong argument, that I feel is supported by each text, that each of these mirrors is about moderation, and both the white man of choice and Natasha finding that the ideal is somewhere between both points: the space between how and why Tony and Natasha handle secrecy; between how Clint and Natasha handle guilt; between how Steve and Natasha handle trust; between how Bruce and Natasha handle self-hatred. That the writers and directors often disagree with my read of this does not, in any way, dissuade me from believing it, but it does mean that this may not be the arc we’re looking at in the movie.

By the arcs that I’ve traced, though, they have a fair amount of leeway to give a satisfying conclusion no matter what the plot is. By having other characters mirroring Natasha, she is centered in a way she never had been, and simply being the protagonist of her own story is part of Natasha’s journey we haven’t seen. We know that this is going to in some way revisit the Red Room, and that means that we’ll get to see a story where Natasha is passionate about and personally connected to what she’s fighting. We also know that whatever the story is, it will not be Natasha mediating someone else’s approach to the world, but Natasha’s approach to the world with someone else (I’m guessing Yelena?) mediating her worldview, in a way that gives Natasha growth but does not undercut her as someone who had so much to learn from the REAL hero.

All plot to the side, simply because Natasha is the protagonist, there is an element of satisfaction inherent, both textually and metatextually, because Natasha’s role of being sidelined is both within the text and within the media landscape a struggle she’s finally able to overcome. There is also a metatextual satisfaction just in cleaning up the bits and pieces of canon that we’ve gotten that were left hanging. For example, in her heroic climax in Winter Soldier, Natasha- who was so focused on being able to transform into whatever was necessary- released a fuck-ton of national security information on the internet, including her own history, that made her both immutable and knowable. (Do you ever think about how this means that people living within the MCU know more about Natasha’s background than we, the audience, does? Because I do, c o n s t a n t l y.) Natasha went from working undercover and in the shadows to being an Avenger and releasing not just her own and not just SHIELD’s but also the Red Room’s dirty laundry in public, and that has never had narrative consequences; this is a great opportunity to use that, closing a loop that most people probably forgot even existed.

Speaking of closure.

I think this movie HAD to be designed with that specifically in mind. I don’t think they necessarily expected the backlash they got from Natasha’s death (I’m going to be honest here; I didn’t expect it from anyone but Natasha fans), but at least they had to know that people who had been promised Natasha would get her due in canon would be frustrated and want some sign that the complexity of the character that had been talked up for a decade was actually part of the story they put on film. Marvel wants to placate fans, yes, but they wouldn’t waste millions upon millions of dollars on a movie to get us to shut up; their job is to bring in money, and it’s not like they haven’t gotten ten years’ worth from us. They’re also savvy enough to know that for a character who’s no longer alive in canon, they need to do things that make their story relevant even without them having future appearances- and I think we’ll see that in Yelena and Taskmaster- but also to make this story have stakes.

Yeah, we never spend a Marvel movie saying “Oh geez, what if the hero dies?” (well, aside from Civil War, because comics oontext), but right now we’re going in knowing (or, bare minimum, thinking we know) exactly what happens to Natasha. Where she’ll end up just under two years from when the story starts is set in stone (NO PUN INTENDED). So we need another way to give the story stakes. Natasha’s life and her future aren’t up in the air. Her past is, I guess, but they’ve been clear this movie isn’t about her past. And where that leaves us is the emotional journey. I outlined above what I think that is, but it doesn’t have to be that to be satisfying- it just has to be some way to leave Natasha changed in a way that surprises us as audience.

And, sure, that could be loss- that could be betrayal from everyone in this movie, leaving her alone and with no one to turn to but the Avengers- but I don’t think that is. I think that’s looking at Natasha’s story like she’s still a secondary character, rather than the protagonist. The basic structure of a superhero movie (and specifically a Marvel movie) is that the protagonist suffers defeat but ultimately triumphs, internally if not externally, having learned something that takes them farther on their emotional journey. Since (as far as we )know this is the only movie Nat’s getting- she’s not getting a trilogy or a Dis+ show- this needs to take her farther than most single-protagonist movies have.

In terms of another kind of closure: If the movie doesn’t offer at least a hint of a way Nat could come back (and I’m still hoping for that no matter how unlikely it is, and if it doesn’t happen I’m hoping for it in the Dr Strange sequel, and after that I’m sure I’ll find another path), I think there’s an excellent chance the post-credits scene will be a funeral for her. Given that they have SebStan and Mackie and Emily Van Camp shooting together right now, it would be very easy to at the VERY least get us a scene of them mourning her. It’s not the same as Tony’s giant lakehouse memorial, but it’s about half the characters who were close to her when she was alive (the others being Clint, Maria, and Fury, and I’m pretty sure they could have put an hour of time on the FFH set to the latter two having five seconds of looking solemn). I think that, given the backlash to Endgame, they need something like this: we need to see, on screen, conclusive proof that Natasha’s life mattered, not just for the audience, but for the world she lived in.

My dream would be for the entire movie to use a frame story OF her funeral- people talking about her, different memories and different understandings, that combine in different ways to collectively show a whole. Fucking Rashomon that shit. But we all know they’re not going to do that.

I recognize I am still talking satisfying and not happy.

But what exactly is happy? What exactly is the happy ending Natasha might want?

She’s not a character who wants to retire or settle down somewhere. As much as we in the audience talk about wanting her to get a break, we’ve never seen that from her, and we also don’t see a world that could really offer that to her; especially post-Cap2, Natasha does not have the luxury of escaping her past even if she did want to.

We don’t know her goals. We don’t know what she wanted outside of making amends for her past. We’ve gotten that from almost every other character- say what you want about Steve’s Endgame ending (god knows I have), or about Bruce being a public figure that kids love, but at least there was groundwork laid for it.

i think the best argument we have for what makes Natasha happy is in Civil War, when it’s taken away. Natasha is willing to give up things that are important to her (her autonomy) in favor of not losing her team; being together is the priority for her. By the end of Civil War, she’s lost even that; she’s seen to have betrayed her entire team and has no one. By IW we know that she re-finds her group, that she and Steve and Sam and Wanda are a tightly-knit unit, but we have to piece it together ourselves, and we have no way to know that it’s by choice rather than necessity. (The BW trailer is really the first time we get evidence that Natasha has more resources than just the Avengers or SHIELD; even fic has tended to just posit she has empty safehouses, not living people she can go to.) The BW movie could give her that team, and retroactively make her appearance in IW a reward for her- having found the team she wanted- rather than just the natural place for her to end up.

But I can’t see how that would even work without at least some of Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, and Elizabeth Olsen appearing in this movie and showing on screen that Natasha has her people. We haven’t seen evidence they aren’t, but at least I haven’t heard any rumors they are, the way we’ve heard rumors about RDJ.

And there’s something awful, to me, in Natasha constantly being supporting in other people’s movies, which exist to seem self-contained even if they’re not, but then in her movie her emotional fulfillment relying on things that happen elsewhere- the implication that her emotional arc can’t even support a single movie.

In terms of what we’ve seen achieved, Natasha seems happiest when she’s solving a problem, when she’s fighting and winning and being the hero she doesn’t quite believe she is. But that’s not something that can be an end to an arc, of a decade or even of two hours. No matter how great that is, it’s a momentary thing, and it’s fleeting. That’s happiness but not narratively satisfying

This remains not an answer to the original questions.

I think part of the issue is, it’s not necessarily that we need Natasha to be happy, for her to have a happy ending. It’s that we, the audience, wants to be happy- and frankly, I don’t think that’s unreasonable; we’re not going to blockbusters to have our hearts torn out (and I think that after Endgame especially, Natasha fans are not ready or willing to do that again). And so we’re looking less at how Natasha can be happy, but how we can be happy. Selfishly, I’d even add: how we can be happy without doing the work. How we can be happy without conspiracy-theorizing our way to a satisfying narrative, but rather, a narrative that’s already on the screen, that we can just roll around in and enjoy.

I realize how bizarre this is to say after 3000+ words, but: I want the opportunity to be a lazy viewer. I want the chance to take things in without having to take responsibility for making them into something I want to see. I don’t want to have to reverse-engineer her story; I want to dig into the minutiae that is maybe actually intended.

On some level, that’s going to be the happy ending for me. Just having a whole text to dive into is a gift. (I am probably monkey-pawing myself just by saying this, which is the same kind of bullshit I argued for Age of Ultron- but then, I still can rewatch Ultron and find a lot that I like.) And Natasha getting a narrative win- which, as protagonist, she kind of has to- will be a happy ending for me.

But I’m a Natasha fan. This is expected.

What I think is the real question under all of this- what I’ve been struggling to tease out from my own feelings, and maybe now I’m finally getting to it- is a different question entirely: how can Marvel craft a story that sticks with their formula of giving a protagonist a win and something like a happy ending, while telling a story about a character who has been sidelined for ten years until they killed her off? Setting aside those of us who are overly invested in Natasha’s arc, what is the path to telling a story that the majority of the audience- most of whom haven’t traced her history, many of whom are casual fans, some of whom probably didn’t even see Endgame- finds fulfilling and happy?

The hero has to win, obviously. The hero has to triumph. Natasha has to come away having saved the world (stopping a villain from destruction), her world (protecting those close to her), and her internal world (some kind of emotional progress/catharsis). There will be moments intended for the audience to cheer. That’s a formula that you can find in nearly every superhero movie, and with good reason; I can’t think of why it wouldn’t apply here.

So looping back around, the question about the sad ending really is just for those of us who are deeply engaged. It’s not “will Natasha triumph?” because yes, she will- of course she will. We are going to get a movie where the world will be saved by Natasha (which has happened before) and the text will acknowledge that (which it really has not). The real question at hand is “will Natasha’s triumph be enough to mitigate the substantial losses she’s had in the other movies, or will it be bittersweet, her success here just underscoring the way that her biggest narrative win was to kill herself for no recognition?”

Which, of course, on some level, will vary from audience member to audience member. But I think that, with the awareness of how Endgame worked, and the knowledge of exactly when this movie is coming out, they have to at least try to give her- and us- this.

It’s now 5:15 AM and this is over 4000 words long and if you’ve read all this you deserve a medal. I’m happy to clarify or expand on anything in a few hours when I get up; I know that I circled a few points rather than clearly making them, but I’m no longer even completely sure what is common knowledge and what is me projecting. Hopefully this can at least start a conversation?

ETA: And anon, I am sure no matter what happens, fanfic will have our backs.

[yeet-me-into-oblivion-please]

Well, Supernatural is actually ending and I don't know what I'll do

[ Brevity is not a strong suit of mine since I've included personal details but there's stuff I feel everyone in the SPN family needs to read]

You might be expecting another post about how Supernatural saved someone's life and how devastated they will be when it ends because they've watched it for so long as well as how the actors have impacted their lives. This is probably one of those but please hear me out.

Supernatural premiered in 2005 and I was in preparatory class (aged 5 years and was before I began 1st grade). I heard of it because my aunt would watch it time to time so I'd also tried to get some peeks myself but I wasn't allowed to because it was "too scary".

Then our local cable began to show seasons 1-5 and that was when everyone in class started watching and quoting it. This was in 6th grade and I was frustrated because I knew about it before most of them yet they acted like it was a new show. I had a fair idea about the story but once I began watching it, I fell in love with it and loved it like a part of my soul.

Yes, Jensen Ackles was my first crush but I still thought (and do think) that both he and Jared are super hot. So I was sucked into this vortex, this Neverland which I never thought I would end.

I joined Tumblr for this show in 2013 because I saw the jokes about there being a Supernatural gif everywhere and wanted to be a part of the fandom/community. This was also the year I actually became interested what other fans felt though I never used this site properly until 2016 I would read the IMDb discussion boards because I hated scurrying through Destiel-infested posts.

(Fun fact:I wasn't using any social media of my own but on my mother's Facebook I liked a Supernatural fan page asking people's opinions on Destiel. This is was around the time season 8 was just finishing or had already finished so I read the comments--- people talked about Dean and Castiel being gay and didn't approve of it as there was this one girl who was conservative and didn't believe in homosexuality while others went on how Dean was always a ladies man which I agreed with. Not that I commented but I thought there was something I missed and I thought Castiel used Dean as a vessel, thus Destiel.)

But I digress. I was in deep by the time season 9 premiered and majority of the people I knew stopped watching the show except for this girl who bullied me throughout preschool who put up this update that Dean had become a demon. I doubt she watches the show now but it was hard seeing her put pictures of "I heart Dean Winchester" and pictures of Jensen when my mom asked me why I don't do the same.

Supernatural, I feel, has become that embarrassing thing you are into in middle school but suddenly drop when you're older, looking back and thinking, "Yeesh, I can't believe I used to watch this show."

I'll be a grown woman at 30 or 40 and probably eventually in my 70s and 80s but I will still look back fondly, the good, the bad and the ugly because I have like many teenagers have undergone many changes (friends, family, emotions, hobbies etc) but Supernatural has always been this constant in my life.

Because let me tell you, I'm seeing these posts saying stuff like how people are glad that it's finally over with its "bullshit" and that's it's dying. That is extremely disrespectful and insensitive to those people who literally live for it, who have invested time and money into it: gif makers, artists, meta writers (I may not agree with you guys but even you count). They don't know what to do once the show ends because it has helped them in ways others will never ever be able to fathom.

I saw the video put up by the guys. I saw and I could tell that Jared, Jensen and Misha had probably cried their guts out before the announcement because their eyes were red and puffy. Jared was controlling himself by talking less as Jensen was clearly on the verge as well but yes they said that they should save the angst for next year.

I love the guys; I love Jared being a goofball and Jensen being equally goofy as well and I'll say this too, I used to enjoy some of Misha's crass jokes (not the highlight ) as well which was why I looked forward to the gag reel every summer (because of J2) because it was cathartic after a traumatic season finale. I love the witty banter and the pranks the cast would do and I will miss it tremendously.

I have some issues with my aunt but everything would be okay when we would fawn over the guys and bingewatch the entire season the summer after it finished airing. We'd quote quotes back and forth and even spiritually killed ourselves watching short clips of "Sammy, close your eyes", "I'm proud of us" etc. Hell, she even promised me that when we go visit my uncle in the States we'd attend a con together.

If, and whenever we do go, it'll be different because the show won't be on air anymore and I know for a fact that I won't feel the anticipation of an episode.

So don't say disrespectful and callous things like "fucking finally". You can dislike the cast/plotline/show but don't ridicule and mock those who invested in the show,some of you are most probably speculating and have barely seen it.

I'm not some dumb, blind fan. I can see some stupid mistakes and don't always eat up what the writers show. For example, everyone must have figured that I dislike Destiel because it's based on groundless assumptions. I thought the Bloodlines was a crap idea that had nothing to do with the main plot and knew it was destined to fail.

As for Wayward Daughters/Sisters or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be called, I was not looking forward to it at all because it was one of those "forced diversity" shows, y'know gender bent stuff.

I felt that they were bastardising everything that Supernatural has and will (always) stand for because some people had a hair up their backsides. Yeah, I loathed Claire and that Kaia mourning thing was bullshit. Thank goodness I was sick that day and couldn't keep my eyes open for that episode.

If we were told that there would be a Men of Letters(with Henry Winchester) or even a Bobby-Rufus spinoff I would be okay with that but for now since the show will finish next year let's the wounds heal first, shall we?

I hope that Jared and Jensen get some offers once the show is done and I will pay good money to see movies, TV shows of them etc but for now I will keep quiet since I hope we get an ending we (and the boys) deserve.

Yes, the writer situation scares me and I think they should call Eric Kripke for a last hurrah. I mean, it is his baby and he should get to have a say in the series finale as well as J2.

Will one of the brothers die and the other will live (I'm worried we'll get a reverse Swan Song)? Will they both die leaving Cas behind and Jack as some sort legacy who trains future hunters? That would be a possibility since the sheriff in 14.16 asked the Winchesters why they don't tell people about monsters. What happens to Baby?

I seriously doubt the ending will be happy(maybe not 100%) but the best thing would be if they go driving with Baby into the sunset...

Dean at the steering wheel with Sam riding shotgun, where they should be ---- where they will always be, home. Dean plays his "mullet rock" as Sam would playfully mock his brother's musical choices. No chick flick moments. Just the Winchesters.

The boys need to lay their weary heads to rest, so they can cry no more. Because they are the legendary Winchesters, the hunters who saved the world countless times unbeknownst to many. I don't think their work will ever be done but there will be peace when they are done and how they will reach that point we'll never know till 2020.

Everyone will hear "Carry on wayward son" for the last time ever in Supernatural over a painful montage of "Dad's gone on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days" and "Saving people, hunting things, the family business". Now who in this fandom wouldn't be wracked with pain?

This is the show we all joked about that made a deal with the devil to never go off air but I did expect this a long time ago. Only thing was that I didn't know how I'd treat the news. I was that person who would go, "pfft, of course Supernatural would get renewed". Then again, this was the show that an ending was imminent and the whole season 4 debacle about Misha and the angel storyline saving the show blah blah blah.

So next year, everyone will flock to see the finale and epic conclusion to the Winchester saga whether they stopped at season 5,6,7 or 10,12. Diss it all you want for the shit show it may have become but wherever you left off, you may still want to know what happens to Sam and Dean Winchester in the end.

Once Supernatural ends, I'll turn 20 next summer and I would like to think of it being poetic that I end my adolescence with a show I have loved when I brave the cold, ruthless world of adulthood. I'm a picky person and can't say what's my favorite xyz is but you know what I'll say about my favorite TV show.

We will have completed 327 episodes which is the highest for a scifi TV show so I do hope the boys get some sort of recognition. It was us crazy bitches and jerks that gave the show the mileage and it was us that gave Jared and Jensen faith that they could carry on so for the remainder of season 14 and for 15,support these guys. Support these annoyingly sexy and ridiculously hilarious dudes for this show. I'm sure Jared and Jensen love the show like it's their kid practically but I wish everyone would just shut up, tinhatters, bronlies, stans, destihellers because we are all fans of the one show so let's ease the time we have left.

But seriously imagine Sam and Dean on a desert highway, the orange and yellow rays of the setting sun make Baby shine in all her splendor which makes Dean swell with pride. He starts the engine with a low rumble and they're off. They might to California to feel the sand beneath their feet or to Disneyland. They're living the "apple pie life" and this is their personal heaven : with each other.

I wouldn't mind this playing in the background if the ending is the inevitable and unspeakable you know what :

It's wishful thinking, since I wish they'd actually play some Zeppelin instead of song titles being used as episode titles but I wish they could use some Queen or Guns n Roses and stuff before 1979 because everything sucked ass afterwards according to Dean.

I want the classic rock resurgence in the show as well but I know they'll end up using the cash elsewhere. I wouldn't mind a body swap episode but if wishes were horses, right?

[tired-eyes-cold-as-ice]

I was tagged by @chaoticandproud and I think I need to go lay down now lol this took forever

thanks for the tag boo <3 1. Why did you choose your url?

I really, desperately wanted to change my url after returning to tumblr and having had my previous one for YEARS. So I searched far and wide until I settled on this one...

which is just the caption I gave to this piece I made when I first started playing around with digital art earlier this year:

See how her eyes look really tired and she looks kinda icy... like cold... as ice...............

2. Side blogs

Never had one. This is the one and only blog I've ever used and it's a mess. You click that follow button, you're in for a wild ride lol.

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

Since 13/06/2012, 9:20pm. 🙃

4. Do you have queue tag?

Nope. I've been here for 9 years and to this day I still have no idea what it is or how to use it. You get 100 posts in an hour or you get nothing, there is no in-between.

5. Why did you start your blog?

I was a part of the Czech Glee fandom and wanted to read more fanfiction. I found a person who was posting their Czech fanfics here and while scrolling through their blog I realized that hey, this place is pretty cool, it's got moving pictures and shit... so I also made one.

6. Why did you choose your icon?

Well because he's just TOO CUTE 🥺💕 william my beloved

I made the edit for a post of mine and found it again while scrolling through my files. I realized it fit the pink vibe I have going on rn on my blog and I felt like replacing my other icon that had my face in it cause I wasn't feeling it anymore.

7. Why did your choose your header?

Purely for aesthetic reasons because pink!! and pretty!!

8. Post with the most notes?

AHAHAH

So right now my most popular one is this Eurovision one which currently has 8.3k notes and has caused quite a lot of people to get angry because it's not RENAISSANCE it's bArOqUe

HOWEVER

It has yet to beat THIS baby, which was made 5 years ago and somehow gained nearly 8.7k notes (which makes me really happy because it was about writing Phil -and Dan the previous year- personalized letters to tell him what he means to us and that's just really sweet isn't it 🥺).

9. How many mutuals do you have?

I went. And I counted.

Every. Single. One.

158 is the answer.

A HUNDRED AND FIFTY-EIGHT

??!?! WHY AND HOW ?!?!

10. How many followers do you have?

667 (missed the 666 :(( big sads)

Once again,

WHY

and

HOW?!?

11. How many people do you follow?

1002 blogs babeyyy 🤙🤙

12. ever made a shitpost?

Absolutely.

13. How often do you use tumblr each day?

I don't know, I'm scared to monitor my social media usage cause it's bad. But more often than not, I'll just come here to message friends and scroll without really reblogging stuff or paying attention to anything.

14. Did you ever have fight/argument with other blog?

I don't like confrontation and fighting with people but I've gotten myself involved in drama a couple of times over the years. One time I made a really stupid comment under the influence of someone extremely toxic and ended up getting so much shit I had to delete everything related to that situation, close my ask box and just leave tumblr for a couple of days. I've been careful not to get involved in anything like that ever since.

If something pisses me off I'll just complain about it to my roommate irl lol.

15. How do you feel about "You need to reblog this" posts?

They make me feel awful. I'm really sensitive to guilt-tripping and pretty anxious when it comes to stuff like this (like remember those chain mails/posts about demons appearing in your house if you don't repost? I wouldn't repost those cause I knew they were fake and didn't want to spread them but I wouldn't be able to fall asleep because I was convinced a demon would show up lol) so whenever I see them and scroll past for whatever reason, I kinda feel sick to my stomach.

16. Do you like tag games?

I do! omg a friend remembered me?? and tagged me in a game because they want to learn more about me???? 🥺💕😭💖✨❤

Sometimes I forget to do them lol but I appreciate every single one! I just feel bad cause I'm bad at tagging others. I'm scared to tag people I don't actually talk to idk why. :(

17. Do you like ask games?

Yes!! I just take them way too seriously so it takes me forever to answer them haha.

18. Which of your tumblr friends/mutuals do you think is famous?

Mmm I have quite a few mutuals from the Dark Ages Glee days who were pretty big in the fandom back then (no idea why they followed me back lol).

Right now I'm honored to have a couple of people from the JATP fandom who I consider to be full-on celebrities following me back but I'm scared to tag them lmfao 😅😔

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

...maybe 👉👈

No pressure to actually do this but if y'all feel like it @hervissa @slunecny-hrob @fiddlepickdouglas @floating-in-the-blue @fighttoshine @suckerforpsychos & anyone else who wants to do this it's pretty cool <3