#or at least i assume it's those two based on the chapters

[shysheeperz]

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

[wonustars]

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (Teaser)

𖥔 pairing: kim mingyu x reader 𖥔 wordcount: ~15k+ (this teaser: 599) 𖥔 genre: fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni)

𖥔 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

𖥔 summary: you and mingyu (a former mafia member and also your ex-fiancè's former best friend) are forced into witness protection. All you’ve been told is that you’re meant to act like a happily married couple. Pushed into a cookie cutter house, and a suburban neighbourhood far from the city, where people bring you baked goods on your first day and partake in small talk, it’s all foreign and new. There’s so many things you don’t know about him, but for a man who’s only known violence and all things illegal, he’s somehow the perfect house husband.

𖥔 tags: fake relationship/marriage!au, non-idol!au, mafia!au, afab!reader, norbert is readers cat (more tags when the fic is posted) 𖥔 release date: may 14 or 15, 2024 𖥔 author's note: if i end up posting after the predicted dates plz do not crucify me 🙏 ik a lot of people have been waiting for this one so i'd thought i post a teaser since i have 2-3 chapters left till its finally finished. thank you to all of those who sent in their ideas and to those who've shown so much interest in this story :") i really hope it lives up to your expectations!! see u soonest - anna ♡ !!!!

𖥔 keep reading

The first few days at the new house were uneventful and awkward to say the least.

Mingyu spent the majority of his time doing random housework, he thought that if he had to live here for a year, then he should at least try and make it as “homely" as possible. 

Many of the women in the neighbourhood had deemed Mingyu as their new eye-candy. Despite the fact that he wore his pink shibu inu apron while tending to the garden at the front of the house. They would especially make sure to take multiple laps around the block during their group walks, drooling over his toned muscles as he began to plant an array of flowers on the lawn. 

Mingyu isn’t very observant when it comes to people finding him attractive, believe it or not. He automatically assumes that the wives of Bridgewater just wanted to get to know the new couple that just moved in. 

“What a beautiful garden you have!” one of the wives called out from the sidewalk, her eyes glinting with appeal. 

“Thank you, It’s not done just yet, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” Mingyu smiles bashfully. 

“Of course dear. You know if you’re ever free you should come and take a look at my garden,” another lady giggles, her innuendo flying right over Mingyu’s head.

The group of fourty plus year old women all giggle like school girls as they watch his face turn red with flattery. Mingyu scratches the back of his head awkwardly as they bid him good-bye, curious as to what they group of women thought was so funny about him taking a look at their gardens. It’s all just a bunch of flowers isn’t it? 

The sound of your car’s engine brings Mingyu out of his thoughts, his gardening tools forgotten by the piles of dirt he left. You lug Nortbert’s carrier as you walk into the house, acknowledging his presence with a small nod. His pink aprons raises a few questions in your head, but you decide not to comment on it. 

“Oh hey you’re back, is he ok?” Mingyu asks, motioning to the carrier you hold in your hand. 

Halting your steps, your eyes widen as you realize that he’s talking to you, there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you since you’ve moved in. so you found it a little surprising that he’s asking about Norbert, the cat who tends to show lots of aggression towards him. 

“Morning. He’s ok, I just took him for his check up at the vet,” you shrug before entering the house. 

You leave the conversation there. There wasn’t much else to say anyways, and you had a lot of work to get to before the end of the day. If Mingyu feels a little bit ignored by your actions, he doesn’t make it noticeable, going back to working on his garden. 

From across the yard, neither you of Mingyu notice Seungkwan’s looming figure as he and Vernon enjoy the Friday morning sun. He watches the two of you from his porch with a quirked eyebrow. They’re awfully awkward for newly weds, he thinks to himself. 

“Nonie, don’t you think they’re a little weird?” Seungkwan nudges his boyfriend, who’s mumbling to himself while Vernon reads his book. 

Vernon quirks up, moving his headphones a little to hear what his boyfriend has to say, “huh? Sorry I was reading, what’d you say?” 

“Nothing, go back to your book love,” Seungkwan mumbles, his eyes still darting back and forth from your descending figure and Mingyu, his suspicions spiking once more.

[stellas-and-tonitruses]

these last 3 chapters more than ever have left me wondering about the timeline of spy x family and in particular,

donovan's age.

i'm not going to go too deep into the full timeline because i simply don't think we have enough info to make a real robust timeline, BUT i do think we can very feasibly approximate donovan's age with our current info.

I also won’t be using any precise years like 1964 or whatever bc at this moment in time I find that to be kind of useless, bc the only years we have happen very early in the story in background details and for a lot of those ones, I noticed endo had a tendency to just carelessly put whatever so long as it looked fine from afar, which includes news that were happening around the time of that chapter's release. SO unless he decides to explicitly highlight actual years, I’m not gonna be like “this happened in 1964 and that happened in 1953” and anything of the sort.

now, i shall partake in my least favorite activity.

✨math.✨

so uh buckle up my fellas and feel free to correct me anywhere where i might be wrong bc i am more than aware that math is NOT my strong suit!

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS 97, 98 AND 99!

gonna start with the facts!

according to the spy x family EYES ONLY fanbook, henry henderson is 66 years old at the time of the current events of spy x family! in the past three chapters we have learned that there is a 3 year age gap between him and martha, so that would make her 63 years old currently.

as of the events of chapter 99, he is 22 years old (and martha is 19), assuming there wasn't any years-long time gap that was not mentioned within the chapter! which, it doesn’t seem like there were any MASSIVE time gaps, so I’ll be using those ages for calculating.

so, what all this means is that we are (roughly) 44 years into the past at the moment! previous info about the war of loid and yor's childhoods puts it at around 20 years old, so from where we are in the backstory, we still have roughly 20 more years before Luwen is attacked — clearly, because this first war has already ended with donovan still in school.

while we don't have loid's age, we do have yor's, who is 27 years old — meaning she was born around the time of henry being 39 years old, aka clearly neither loid nor yor have been born yet as of the events of chapter 99. too into the past for now!

now, how am i gonna get donovan's age out of all this?

simple! henry's his teacher and has a talk with him after his jail time.

like I mentioned previously, I shall be sticking to 22 for henry’s age here. it may not be fully correct, it may be a year or two off because we aren’t given concrete details on exactly how long he was in jail, so just take it with a grain of salt! it's only going to remain as a rough estimate until we get a definitive answer on donovan's age.

so! henry has a talk with donovan, but the conversation itself, while very important for the plot and especially for our understanding of donovan’s character, is irrelevant for this conversation. no, what's crucial here is what henry is holding. endo even highlights it by focusing an entire larger panel on it!

it's a history textbook for year 7 students!

it being a history textbook is very poignant for the conversation they're having, but the reason this is important to me is because it's very clearly a year 7 textbook.

now, i don't know how much of eden academy's curriculum is based on the uk! but because pretty much all of the architecture of it is based on eton college and endo has literally just returned from a london trip where he showed us he visited a kindergarten, so i think that's grounds enough for me to assume eden academy's year 7 is generally populated by children between 11 and 12 years old. luckily for me, that seems to be the general age for germany's secondary school year 7 too, so even if it's not the british one, it's still close enough!

with all that being said, if donovan is, say, 12 in that moment and henry is 22, that means there is a 10 year difference between the two of them, which, drum roll please, means donovan desmond is 56 years old when our story's events take place! assuming the war of loid's and yor's childhoods took place exactly 20 years ago (when yor was 7 and henry was 46), this would make him around 36 years old when he became ostania's prime minister! it would also mean he had damian at 50 years old, and if demetrius is 12 right now, that would mean he was born when donovan was 44 years old (and his birth would’ve been in the last years of the war).

so, rough events timeline based on all that, focusing on ages!

66 years ago: Henry Henderson is born.

63 years ago: Martha Marriott is born.

~56 years ago: Donovan Desmond is born.

49 years ago: Martha (14) transfers to Eden and meets Henry (17)

47 years ago: Henry (19) graduates Eden.

44 years ago: Henry (22) joins Eden as a teacher, in the same year becomes Donovan Desmond’s (~12) history teacher. Martha (19) graduates Eden and joins the Women’s Defense Auxiliary.

~44 years ago: Martha (~19) is presumed dead. Henry (~22) faces jail time. The war ends, and he marries.

27 years ago: Yor is born. At that time, Henry is 39, Martha is 36, and Donovan is 29.

~27 years ago. [REDACTED] is also born. Same as above, just approximate this time!

~20 years ago: Second war begins. Yor and [REDACTED] are ~7, Henry is ~46, Martha is ~43, Donovan is ~36. Yuri is born.

~12 years ago: Demetrius is born. Donovan is ~44, Yor and [REDACTED] are ~15, Henry is ~54, Martha is ~51, Yuri is ~8.

~10 years ago: Second war ends. Demetrius is ~2, Donovan is ~46, Yor and [REDACTED] are ~17, Henry is ~56, Martha is ~53, Yuri is ~10.

6 years ago: Damian is born (and most other kids in his and Anya’s grade). Demetrius is ~6, Donovan is ~50, Henry is 60, Martha is 57, Yor is 21, Twilight is ~21, Yuri is 14.

5-4 years ago: Anya is born. Damian (etc.) are 1-2, Demetrius is 7-8, Donovan is ~51-52, Henry is 61-62, Martha is 58-59, Yor is 22-23, Twilight is ~22-23, Yuri is 15-16.

1 year ago: Yuri (19) becomes part of the SSS. Anya is 3-4, Damian (etc.) is 5, Demetrius is 10-11, Donovan is ~55, Henry is 65, Martha is 62, Yor is 26, Twilight is ~26.

I HOPE THAT HELPS PUT THINGS INTO PERSPECTIVE?? melinda is not included bc we have nothing to go off of for her age outside of purely subjective things like her appearance.

super glad endo included the year 7 thing JAKLSDFKLSD

anyway thank you for reading!!! :DD

[lunasurvivin]

The Speedrunners in Ward are so odd to figure out. I’ve taken the time to figure out some of their powers as best as I can and I’ve come to odd results. Long essay as well as Ward spoilers below.

Before Ward, the Speedrunners were originally a group of time manipulating capes that operated in Seattle. As someone attempting to create a Seattle cape scene for the sake of creating worm fan-fiction, I’ve been having to research and understand their powers.

The capes I’ve been researching are specifically Final Hour, Secondhand, and Last Minute. End of Days is a part of the Speedrunners as well, but I am excluding him as he seems to have been a recent addition to the group, coinciding with their increasing association with the Fallen.

The trio’s powers initially make sense, their time powers are described rather plainly and make sense as typical worm powers. Final Hour can slow down time for a single target and switch targets at a moment’s notice. Secondhand can enter a state that allows him to move across distances in the span of femtoseconds at the cost of struggling to move across space while doing so, moving through it like it was molasses. And lastly, Last Minute can reverse the flow of time on objects, making them reverse their movements. All of that seems fine, but the problem is that they don’t just have time powers. At least one of them, possibly even all three, also have tinker powers.

The fact their group has a tinker is obvious, after all, their first direct appearance in Ward is them engaging in a trade of tinker knowledge(Shade 4.3). In that same chapter they are described as all using tinker tech. The presence of a tinker is clear, but the identity of that tinker is not. Victoria even speculates that all of them could be tinkers. The identity of the tinker(s) is ultimately never stated, but it is heavily hinted at later in Ward in several places. At one point, Snag notes that he helped Final Hour work on a tinker frame, implying Final Hour is a tinker. In the same chapter Snag also notes Last Minute helped Snag with creating a “loadout chamber in his right arm” (Shadow - Interlude 5.y). These two thoughts imply that Final Hour and Last Minute are both tinkers.

Beyond this, there is additional information that suggests Secondhand is a third tinker. During the interlude Dying 15.y, we see the perspective of Secondhand. During this, Secondhand shows a heavy understanding of the tinker tech equipment he uses. He knows the material the tech was made of and even recognizes the numerical readings that the tinker tech of his suit gave him. Additionally, he is able to differentiate these numerical readings from “just-for-fun diabolical symbols and magical diagrams”. The fact itself that he can recognize what is “just-for-fun” heavily implies he is a tinker, as a regular person likely could not discern what is necessary or not in tinker tech.

Based on the available information provided, we have to assume that Final Hour, Secondhand, and Last Minute are all tinkers. With that in mind however, we must then consider what specialty each of them could have. The main problem is that line of consideration is that despite there being three tinkers, there are only two specialties hinted at. The first tinker specialty is time manipulation, which I imagine one could already safely assume was the case in a group of time manipulators. The second tinker specialty hinted however is much more unusual, power alteration.

Before I get to the power alteration specialty, I will note all of the clearly time manipulating technology that appears to be related to the Speedrunners. In Shade 4.3 Last Minute is noted to have tinker weapons that react differently when experiencing time in reverse compared to when experiencing time normally, he is also shown to use those tinker weapons in Shadow - Interlude 5.y. In Dying - 15.5, a beam is fired that creates a bubble that reverses time on the mechs, repairing the parts of them in the bubble to near pristine state. In Infrared 19.z Dragon is noted to have an engine modified from the work of Speedrunners, at the time now known as the Thomais Fallen, that would affect time manipulation attempts. Those are the only examples I could find of their time manipulation tech, but it shows that there is most likely time manipulation specialty within the trio.

As for the other, much more unsual tinker specialty, there are several more potential examples. During Shade 4.3 they are all described as using some kind of tinker tech to augment their powers, but two of them stand out for this specialty. Final Hour with his tinker tech can cause additional effects to the target he is slowing time on. Secondhand’s tinker tech suit both allows him to move with less strain during his mover state and also cause an explosion on exiting the mover state. Secondhand shows several more odd power shifts as time goes on. In Shade 4.3 he is also shown to be able to enter a mover state that is fast, but not the near instant speed of his typical power. During this altered state, a quick movement in this state causes him to cause an explosion of slowed time. This additional mover state is highly abnormal from both the regular power he displays in other occasions and from what Victoria knows his power to be like, suggesting a potential power alteration. Later in Ward, in Dying 15.y, Second Hand is also noted to use tinker tech that at the cost of energy makes entering his mover state possible even when his power usually had a required cooldown period. These examples so far are similar in that they alter a time based power, however the next one is different, it alters End of Days’ power.

End of Days’ power is specifically noted to not be time related and is said to “phase things into desolate alternate worlds”(Beacon 8.1). Based on what we see in combat of him using this power, it is temporary and not permanent(Shadow 5.12). I think this because it would have been far more advantageous in the fight we see him in to have made it permanent. Also in Beacon 8.1, it is stated that they think End of Days used a “tech-augmented version of his power” to help the Thomais branch and himself escape into another world. The Thomais Branch ultimately ends up at Teachers Compound. If we do not assume the possibility of a power altering tinker specialty, this turn of events is incredibly strange. His power is not shown to be permanent nor is it implied that he is capable of picking the world targets are phased to. His typical power simply does not align with the events that occur unless his power was altered somehow.

Assuming that there are indeed these two tinker specialties, that leads to yet more questions, specifically “who has what tinker specialty?” and “Why are there only two obvious tinker specialties?”. The first one I can possibly answer with evidence, but the second one requires speculation. I will start with the first question. I think Final Hour is implied to be the power altering tinker through an example from earlier, Snag is noted in Shadow - Interlude 5.y to have helped him create the frame that adds additional effects on his targets. As Final Hour was the main one creating it, the possible power alteration specialty that allows for its construction in the first place must be his. As for the time specialty, Last Minute is strongly implied to have it with the existence of his tinker weapons that work differently in reversed time. Based on the available evidence I can say Final Hour is most likely the power altering tinker and Last Minute is likely the time tinker, but I cannot with certainty say what Secondhand’s specialty is. He clearly understands all of the tech he is using well enough to be a tinker, but that same tech he uses shows both aspects of power alteration and time manipulation.

This strange detail brings me to question two, why are there only two obvious tinker specialties? This is where speculation becomes much more necessary. Firstly, it must be noted that tinkers with secondary non-thinker powers are already a rarity, we do not see many of them in Worm or Ward. Secondly, it must be noted that the odds of three people all triggering with a time manipulation power alongside an additional tinker power is incredibly low. Even lower are the odds that those three people would come to live in the same nation, much less form a group together. The odds of that occurring is almost astronomically low… …unless their powers are all connected. There are two possibilities that could lead to their powers being connected. They could either be buds of an existing cape (or possibly multiple capes) with temporal manipulation powers and a secondary tinker power, or they could be a cluster. We can likely rule out the first possibility, as we know from Shade 4.1 that the Speedrunners “do not look like family”. Additionally, they just aren’t bonded to each other enough to suggest the involvement of budding. Dying 15.y notes at one point that the four capes of the Thomais branch huddled “without closeness”. Without the possibility of budding, this only leaves the other possibility, a cluster.

The idea of the three initial Speedrunners being a cluster is odd at a first glance, for one, you’d likely think that with Ward’s heavy focus on clusters that it would have surely come up. I cannot explain why it never came up, but I can say that the possibility of the three being a cluster explains some inconsistencies and oddities that otherwise would go unanswered. For one, it would explain how such a rare trio came to be in the first place. If the group was a cluster, the chances all three having a time manipulating power alongside a tinkering power becomes far more likely. As an additional consideration, it must be stated that a tinker trigger alongside a time manipulation trigger would result in a cluster with tinkering and time manipulation. Two tinker triggers alongside a time manipulation trigger however also results in a cluster with tinkering and time manipulation. Two tinker triggers would explain why at a glance a cluster of the three Speedrunners would appear to be just two main powers, tinkering and time manipulation.

Two main tinker powers would also explain the strange detail from earlier, Secondhand’s lack of a distinct tinker specialty from Final Hour and Last Minute. For this, let’s assume some possible positions of the cluster based on the powers and tinker specialties I have shown. Final Hour would be the main aspect of power altering tinker given he was noted to work on a power altering frame, Last Minute would be the main aspect of the time manipulating tinker given his apparent time manipulation tinker tech, and Secondhand would be the main aspect of the time manipulating power as he has the notably strongest one, a mover in his case. This would mean Second Hand would get two minor tinker aspects, time manipulation and power alteration. If he had two minor tinker powers, it would explain both why Secondhand understands his technology so well while also not showing a distinct tinker specialty from Final Hour and Last Minute. It would be because he doesn’t have a distinct tinker specialty and is just using the minor aspects he got from his clustermates.

With the idea of a cluster in mind, it must be asked, why is there no apparent kiss/kill dynamic? Why is there no apparent personality bleedthrough? I myself cannot answer those questions beyond mere speculation. There are two possibilities, for the first possibility it’s possible there is a very weak kiss aspect. It is noted in Glow-worm - p.4 that 25% of the time partnerships are made between clustermates, the definition of partnership in this instance is as follows, “The term partnership is used for romantic pairings in instances where sexuality and gender allow, and close friendship or formed teams with members in other cases.”. Based on this definition, there is a chance for a kiss aspect to make clustermates form a team together but not be otherwise close. For the second possibility, theres a chance there simply is no kiss/kill dynamic, the wording uses to describe the likelihood of one is things like “typically”, or “prone to”. It gives the impression that there is a small but non zero chance that clusters without a kiss/kill dynamic can form. If this cluster formed without one, they may have just ultimately teamed up due their similar backgrounds and knowledge of each other.

To conclude this lengthy and long winded essay about the Speedrunners of all people, I will state what I think is likely the case. I think that the three original Speedrunners come from an unstated cluster trigger, with an additional power altering tinker ability that is similarly unmentioned. THAT is why I find the Speedrunners so odd to figure out.

[threewaysdivided]

compared to the other hero's in YJ how do you think Phantom stands up power wise. like Future Danny ripped the world apart and i know in some fanfiction that it is used as an indicator that he is high up there, but i'm interested in your thoughts.

This is an interesting question nonnie!

I generally agree with the idea that Phantom is in the upper-tier of crossover superhero powers, but I do have more specific thoughts so let’s break it down:

Danny’s power level

Just looking at the variety and strength of ghost-powers that Phantom displays in his show, I would put him in the higher rankings of most heroes when it comes to raw ability.  I alluded to this in my main DP x YJ Deathly Weapons fanfic, but to me Phantom shows signs of a pretty common power-scaling differential that happens when a solo-protagonist hero gets transplanted into an ensemble setting.  Within his own setting, Phantom had to be (or become) powerful enough to solve most problems/ fights all by himself – and some of those ghosts he ended up facing towards the end of his canon were impressively strong.  By comparison ensemble heroes are generally less-powerful because working as a collective means they don’t have the same need for aggressive self-sufficiency and also so that no one character upstages or outmodes the rest of the group from a writing perspective.

There’s also the nature of ghost powers.  Phantom needed to develop the raw strength to fill the role of solo combat heavy-hitter, but his base powers are versatile to the point of unsettling.  He has to physically fight against other ghosts because they have (and to some extent are immune to) the same abilities as him, but in a fight against other species he could potentially avoid, manipulate or exhaust an opponent with strategic use of invisibility/ intangibility/ overshadowing.

The back of Dinah’s neck prickled.  With flight to mask footsteps and intangibility rendering them undetectable by touch…  Nonthreatening as Phantom generally appeared, she was starting to understand why his kind had developed such an unsettling reputation.  The idea that a ghost could be present at any time - eavesdropping, spying, interfering - without any of them being the wiser was… disquieting to say the least. - Deathly Weapons, Chapter 17: Assessment

On top of that, he seems to be in a similar boat to Superman when it comes to physical weaknesses – he doesn’t have that many, and they’re often quite specific or hard-to-find.   The most easily-exploitable one is that Danny can run out of power, be slowly starved of ectoplasm or be knocked unconscious; all of which would forcibly revert him back to his weaker human state.  After that, he’s vulnerable to certain magics and ghostly-artefacts, which are more likely to be accessible to various DC/ Marvel heroes (although they might not know exactly which spells/items will be most effective or why).  Beyond those two, most of his weaknesses need to be specifically known about and actively sought out – anti-ecto-technology is obtainable but not mainstream, blood blossoms naturally repel/hurt ghosts but they seem to be rare in nature (or even extinct in the modern day) and then assuming you acknowledge Phantom Planet there’s ectoranium which is basically ghost-Kryptonite in rarity (and possibly even the same mineral in DP x DC settings depending on the crossover).  Much like with Superman, the most reliable ways to take down Phantom require actively knowing what he is and having prepared accordingly.

Based on those metrics, I want to place Phantom in the same power-band as Superman or the Martian Manhunter.  I’d consider their powers to be equivalent incomparibles – it’s hard to stack their abilities side-by-side and say one is objectively better than the others.  A no-holds-barred, knock-down drag-out fight between those three could get very nasty but it would be hard to confidently call a winner without knowing more about the external factors around them.

That said, I think the thing holding Danny back from being fully at that level is his experience: or rather his lack thereof.   Danny hasn’t had much formal training (except maybe some basic self-defence instruction from Maddie/Jack) and he doesn’t have a proper mentor either.  His personal experience mostly fits the narrow niche of direct open combat with other ghosts, mostly throughout Amity Park and surrounds (although occasionally in the Ghost Zone or further from town). 

Phantom has enough raw power and innate talent as a strategic lateral-thinker to get by, but I think that hyperspecialisation and lack of guidance would leave him with a lot of blind-spots.  His hand-to-hand is self-taught and probably missing a lot of best-practice basic techniques.  He’s also never had an experienced third party to observe him in the field and offer suggestions on alternative approaches to using his powers/ keep him from developing bad habits.  This is something Danny actually comments on in canon; he can take a long time to identify solutions (even obvious ones) that deviate too far from his default throw hands approach to fighting.  His powers could be more effectively deployed as a precision-instrument but a lack of coaching means he tends to falls back on using them as a blunt hammer because that was the pattern that came naturally when he was first starting out, and no-one was around to keep that habit from ingraining.

The place where you can see this lack of experience hurting him the most is in his lack of soft-skills.  Phantom didn’t have anyone to advise him on de-escalation, damage control, comforting civilians, interacting with authorities etc.  Add in the naturally-frightening nature of many ghosts and it was easy for him to fall into a public perception of being “the town menace”.  Danny is pretty decent at rallying both humans and ghosts (even erstwhile enemies) to his side in crisis situations but no-one has taught him how manage public relations outside of that.  He says it himself: he needs a PR agent.

On the other hand, Phantom’s heroics have inadvertently earned him a decent amount of potential political pull in the Ghost Zone.  He has enough positive rapport that some regular rogues will take his side or even actively seek him out for help in the right circumstances, and other more antagonistic ones have at least developed a degree of grudging respect.  There are several powerful ghosts that either have direct debts of gratitude to him/his team (Princess Dorothea, Pandora) or who hold him in high esteem for re-sealing Pariah Dark (The Far Frozen).  It’s possible that defeating Pariah might even have granted him a potential candidature/claim to an official position, and judging by the way the Observants and Clockwork pay attention to him, it seems that Phantom’s slow accumulation of power/influence isn’t going completely unnoticed.  However, again, Danny doesn’t have the awareness, experience or training needed to leverage that effectively – heck, he’s not even doing it on purpose.

With all that taken into account, I think Phantom would rank very highly in terms of overall potential, but at his current level he’d be in the lower ranks of the A-tier.  He could become a much more powerful figure with the right guidance but in his canonical state he’s underutilising or outright overlooking a lot of his most effective tools.

TUE Future/ “Dark Phantom”

The “Dark Phantom” presented in the TUE Bad-Future is interesting to me because while he’s a very powerful figure within that story, I don't think he’s a very good reflection of canon-Danny’s potential to do harm.

Gonna complain about The Ultimate Enemy for a bit: I’ve tag-muttered about this before but I’m one of the Phandom members who finds The Ultimate Enemy to be a frustratingly weak episode.  It has a potentially fascinating core premise (the “evil future/alternate self”) but the execution is so convoluted and driven by improbable contrivances that the whole ends up being far less than the sum of its parts.   

One of the biggest problems is that, rather than being a straight future/alternate version of Danny, “Dark Phantom” is actually a hybrid of Phantom and Plasmius’ worse sides.  He’s a distinct, separate entity which means he can’t work as an effective dark mirror to either of them.  (Compare and contrast the Justice League episode A Better World in which the Justice Lords acted as a dark mirror of what the actual Justice League members could become if they chose to abandon their morals and compassion in favour of seizing control and instating a totalitarian system of draconian crime prevention.)

The episode also tried to graft on a really mismatched moral of “don’t be a cheat”.  Rather than being a lesson on choices/ values/ power/ responsibility, Dark Phantom almost ends up being an offhand biproduct of Danny getting caught cheating on a freshman/sophomore-year career-aptitude test.  Instead of learning a lesson about himself/ his ideals/ his personal faults, Danny comes away from the episode with a cool new superpower after deciding not to cheat on the test after all.  Not exactly satisfying.

That mismatch and the convoluted levels of moon-logic required to make it fit severely undermine the idea that this version of Dark Phantom is “inevitable”.  There are too many steps that are too highly-specific and too easily-avoidable for the threat to feel real: Danny has to care enough about an early-highschool CAT to want to cheat, he has to somehow get the answers which he wasn’t intending to do in the canon timelineand only does as a result of Clockwork’s meddling, making it a self-fulfilling situation, he has to get caught using them, Mister Lancer has to hold the resulting parent-teacher meeting at Nasty Burger rather than a school office for some reason, the Nasty Burger Sauce has to 1. be dangerously explosive and 2. coincidentally explode while not only Danny’s parents but his friends and sister are inside, Danny has to be placed in Vlad’s custody rather than with his Aunt Alicia or closer family-friends, Danny has to ask Vlad to remove his Phantom-half and finally, Vlad himself has to agree to do it.  Take away any of those steps and this version of Dark Phantom doesn’t happen.  That’s not inevitable, it’s contrived.

But anyway, let’s look at Dark Phantom as his own entity:

One of the things that makes Dark Phantom much more potentially dangerous is that he combines Phantom’s raw power with Plasmius’ experience.  Like I was saying before, one of Danny’s biggest handicaps is that he lacks training/guidance and tends to underutilise his most effective abilities.  Vlad meanwhile has had years of relative freedom to practice and finesse a lower raw-power level; he’s much more skilled at advanced techniques like duplication and overshadowing (which he canonically used to force through his fortune-making business deals), as well as ecto-constructs.  Plasmius is also a lot more tactical and manipulative in how he applies their common powers.  Plus, the TUE version of Dark Phantom is a full-ghost, which means he doesn’t have a vulnerable mortal state that can be exploited as a weakness.

This is why I think it would be possible for TUE!Dark Phantom to successfully decimate other heroes in shared-universe crossover situations where ghosts aren’t common knowledge.  He’d be an unexpected, unknown enemy that the heroes have no effective way to fight (outside of a few magic users).  Combine that with many of the most powerful heroes being visible as public figures, and Dark Phantom having inherited Plasmius’ strategic/manipulative traits and it could be very easy for Dark Phantom to basically launch a premeditated paranormal blitzkrieg attack, using Plasmius’ skill with duplicates and overshadowing to subjugate any hero he couldn’t overwhelm with Phantom’s raw power level.  It would also make sense that Amity Park would become one of the remaining bastions in any TUE-style future, since having advanced knowledge of ghostly abilities and access to anti-ecto technology would tilt the balance more evenly and allow them to at least keep the danger out.

Mentally, it’s also worth noting that Dark Phantom is a lot more dangerous than either Phantom or Plasmius.  He’s basically the most toxic traits from both of them, removed from their more moderating/ compassionate instincts.  Based on the canonical explanation given, TUE!Danny had Phantom forcibly removed in attempt to remove the pain/ rage/ grief he was feeling over the death of his family.  This isn’t a model-hero-persona conceptualisation of Phantom a la Splitting Images; the TUE-version of his ghost half is a big ball of churning negative emotion.  And what are some of Danny’s toxic traits when it comes to negative emotions: he lashes out, falls into self-blame and self-destructs.  Then we add in Vlad’s toxic traits: he’s egocentric to the point of narcissism, he projects negative feelings/ blame onto others rather than accept responsibility for his own actions and he has a controlling/ sadistic streak.   

TUE’s Dark Phantom is the worst possible combination of an emotionally devastated teenager and an emotionally immature adult.  He’s a ball of pain and rage that blames the world for that pain, lashes out at it, feels worse for doing so and then blames the world for making him feel worse because he doesn’t have the emotional capacity to accept that he’s the one causing it.  Grief is love persevering but the feelings of love, connection and guilt that contextualise his pain were left in the human shells that remained of Danny and Vlad.  It’s possible that the Dark Phantom presented in TUE might not have the capacity to feel positive emotions or compassion.  He was never meant to exist as his own entity – he was an attempt to destroy Daniel Fenton’s negative emotions which went horribly wrong.  In some ways it seems like his reign of terror could be an angrier version of Dracula’s scheme from Netflix’s Castlevania or Haliax’s goal from the Kingkiller Chronicles – a drawn-out suicide note from an undead being who’s been dead inside for much longer, destroying whatever peace/happiness he encounters in revenge for being denied it himself, until such time as he either attains catharsis or finally ends the pain by destroying reality and himself along with it.  That’s the final thing that makes TUE’s Dark Phantom more dangerous than either Phantom or Plasmius – he has nothing to lose and no “better nature” or personal dreams that other heroes could try to appeal to.

So yeah, the TUE version of Dark Phantom could absolutely rip the world and other heroes apart, but I don’t think he’s a particularly good reflection of Danny’s capabilities in terms of either powers or personality.  There’s too much Vlad in the mix, and even then he represents such a narrow and extreme edge-case for each of their personalities that it’s barely representative at all.  At best he’s a warning for what these kinds of powers could be capable of in the wrong hands.

Meta-question: What is “power” in narrative?

Alright, now that I’ve (hopefully) answered the question, let’s finish with a self-indulgent thought exercise for extra credit.

There’s an anecdote which I’ve heard attributed to the Stan Lee, in which a fan apparently asked him “who would win in a fight between Superman and the Hulk?”  To which Stan apparently replied, “whoever the writer wants.”

While it can be fun to make tier-lists and try to rank how strong different heroes/villains/creatures are based on the rules of their respective universes, I think it can also be helpful to consider that– like all things in storytelling – power is a narrative device.  It’s a tool that the character(s) and storyteller(s) can use to create and solve problems.

A character can be extremely physically strong/ skilled/ knowledgeable/ influential in a specific area but how much narrative power they have depends on how well their abilities allow them to influence or resolve story problems.   And, as the omnipotent god(s) of the narrative, the storyteller(s) can choose whether to confront them with challenges that play to their existing strengths, or that force them to find other solutions.  What’s the best way to kill a vampire?

This is actually part of what makes Lex Luthor such an effective Superman villain.  Objectively most versions of Lex are just A Guy™ – on a physical level he doesn’t have anything close to Kal El’s Kryptonian strength or superpowers.  But he feels like a serious threat because he often comes after Superman in ways that Clark can’t easily steamroll with that brute strength.  Lex uses manipulation, money, influence, connections, politics, public opinion; Superman can’t physically fight him without playing into Luthor’s plans, and trying to face him in those other fields requires tools that Clark wasn’t handed as part of his Kryptonian heritage.  An invading alien army is objectively a bigger physical threat to Earth, but a competent Lex Luthor scheme feels more dangerous because – while we feel confident that Superman can beat down a legion of monsters – when it comes to the question of whether he can outwit Luthor, the outcome is a lot less certain.

Situational disempowerment is another of the ways a narrative can reign in an otherwise “overpowered” character: placing them in circumstances where they either aren’t given many opportunities to showcase their best strengths, or are kept from using them because the drawbacks/ risks/ consequences of using their abilities makes their power(s) a liability.  I’ve mentioned it before, but this is actually one of the tricks I’m personally using to keep Phantom’s massive powerset balanced against the other proteges in Deathly Weapons.  It’s also something I’ve been struggling with when it comes to Conner’s place in that story since the stealth-mission plot structure doesn’t allow as much room to highlight his core powers and personal strengths.   

Stories can create additional stakes for powerful characters by giving them emotional arcs which their powers can’t resolve.   For a published example, consider the series One Punch Man and Mob Psycho 100.  Despite how high-ranked Saitama and Mob are within the power-scaling of their respective stories, those powers don’t kill the emotional stakes because the things they actually want/ need can only be gained through self-improvement or making connections in ways separate from their powers (and in some regards their power level actively gets in the way of that).  This is also something I’m doing with Danny’s main grief arc in DW.   

Final Conclusion time

In terms of physical strength and range of abilities, I think Phantom would be pretty near the top of the power-scale in most superhero crossovers.  While the Dark Phantom presented in TUE might not be a particularly good reflection of Danny’s specific potential, a crossover version of the TUE timeline offers a pretty good litmus-test for how dangerous a strong ghost could be in a given universe: the combination of power level, ability range and highly-specific/ inaccessible weak-points poses a strong strategic threat.

On the other hand, physical strength isn’t the only strength.  Phantom has a decent level of potential political sway as well, but he also lacks a lot of the soft skills and experience needed to make use of his toolset to its full ability.

Stepping back further, the answer to how powerful Danny is in a narrative sense is really just “however much the writer wants”.  Phantom’s narrative power depends on the kind of story he’s in and the challenges placed around him – there are as many ways to situationally nerf our ghost-boy as make him OP, all without needing to alter his on-paper powers.

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Jake, Steven) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst. Angst angst angst! Mentions of childhood trauma, child abuse, self-doubt

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long guys, I've been going through... well, a lot lately and it pained me because I wanted to work on so much but I've been so emotionally-burnt out I've been struggling creatively (Yet again falling into the age-old trap of "My stuff is never as good as ___'s" that many of us struggle with)

But I'm hoping, that with this, I can start to feel a bit better!

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika

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Chapter 10:

On The Wings Of An Icarus

Jake knew Layla still didn’t fully trust him, based on his propensity for violence. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she downright hated him, and only tolerated him and spoke politely to save face, for Marc and Steven’s sake.

But, god help him if he didn’t go all out after that night; the night he noticed your soul mark. He showed no mercy on those that Khonshu dispensed him after. Layla practically had to knock him out to get him off; and if he didn’t reign in his control when he did, Marc and Steven would have known something was up. That calm, cool, and collected Jake had cracked because of something and he knew they would attempt to either front or co-front to find out what had shaken him so.

He fisted the glass in his gloved hand, reigning himself in just enough to avoid cracking it.

Three crescent moons, all connected. Each one waxing or waning depending on who was in control of their body or simply co-fronting. You said so yourself.

God, who else could that be referencing if not he, Marc, and Steven? He doubted it was just a goddamned coincidence.

It killed him that he had to keep it a secret from the two of them, but he had no choice. It hurt worse knowing that he wouldn’t be able to tell you–probably never.

You were so… so close. And so far. Like a mirage of an oasis in the desert, always on the horizon, tangible enough to see but not close enough to touch, to hold in his hands.

But… even if they couldn't approach you as their soulmate... Jake could at least let Marc and Steven have you as their friend. Maybe that would assuage the tugging he already knew that they felt.

He had to think of an excuse for if–when–they noticed your mark… Steven would most likely notice it first; he had a habit of looking anywhere else other than someone’s face when he conversed with them, picking at his oversized sleeves and keeping his eyes moving while over-informative words poured from his mouth. Marc was… less observant to such things.

But he would definitely notice if he spent more time with you (not as significantly as Steven does, but still), Marc would get comfortable, enough to let his eyes wander, to open himself up to you. After all… you were their soulmate, it was only natural to feel safe enough around the other half of your very existence, to let your guard down. It was a dangerous game Jake was betting on, being so close to you. He wanted to keep you away, to keep you safe.

But… was it so wrong they have this? Even just a friend? All the horrors they'd been subjected to, the pain, the abuse, the loss… Would it still be so bad to have you, even in that tiny capacity?

But at the same time… if Khonshu tried to use you as leverage–assuming he didn't already know about you–he wouldn't be able to contain himself if something happened under Khonshu’s supervision, as lax as it could be at times.

If someone hurt you? Fuck, he would snap.

He would fight and keep fighting until whoever it was was a bloody mass of pulp and bone fragments.

He looked into his glass of bourbon, a smoky honey flavor that tasted like it had been aged close to a decade. A bit pricey, given the pub he was at, but he needed something right now, something strong enough to numb his mounting anxiety.

His hand slid beneath his jacket to touch his shirt, his gloved fingers knotting in the crisp white fabric as he remembered the night when that human trafficker stabbed him, and he subsequently ripped the knife out.

He'd apologized to you, then, without realizing it was you he apologized to, for being so reckless.

But now that he knew... the guilt came back. How could he be so reckless? So foolhardy as to not take note of his surroundings to prevent that?

You could feel each other's pain. That realization made the abuse he and Marc–and even Steven to a degree–suffered with as a child even worse. The pain your tiny, frail body probably felt–the burns, the welts, the patches of ripped out curls…

He remembered, when he first came into existence; when it got too bad, he would front momentarily to take the worst of the injuries Wendy would inflict upon their poor young body. Marc didn't even know what was happening in the beginning, nor did Steven.

But Jake always knew.

It was like his burden, his own personal curse as the protector. He was cursed with the knowledge that he knew things he couldn't tell others, to protect everyone around him.

Marc, Steven, Layla…

And now you, it seemed.

How could he…

“Jake?” Layla asked, her hand gripping his thick forearm in her small, soft hand, her dark brows pinched upwards in concern. “You were… spacing. Looked like you were thinking about killing someone.” She added.

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, hissing between his teeth. He could feel it, Marc–or perhaps Steven–threatening to swim to the surface of their headspace to investigate the turmoil and inner upset Jake was overthinking on.

“Lo siento.” He muttered, looking at her for a moment before tipping the glass and downing the last mouthful of bourbon before continuing. “I was…”

“Thinking about her. I can tell.” She admitted, turning her barstool so she could face him, her lips pursed in a thin line.

This was difficult. With Marc and Steven, Layla always knew an approach. But with Jake, she never bothered to learn one. She didn't trust him–not fully, yet–so she never felt the need. From how she found out about him, how the other two figured out that they weren’t the only two inhabiting the body… He never really gave Layla an “in”, so to speak; to learn more and break past those emotional barriers that crumbled when she spoke to Marc or Steven. Damn him and his apparent emotional stoicism!

But seeing just how tortured she finally realized he felt… yeah, Jake did bad things on behalf of that old codger, Khonshu, but…

He carried so much weight on his own shoulders, withheld so much pain to protect others that he may as well have been Atlas, doomed to carry the world on his back for all eternity, never being able to shirk the weight like the mythological person.

It dawned on her, that night on the rooftop over your shop and flat, just how little she truly knew about Jake Lockley.

She didn't know anything she didn't want to know, even from Marc or Steven's mouth. It was just her way, after her father died and Marc fell into her life; to not ask too many questions so she could sleep just a wink better than the nights before.

Jake was violent, scary, methodical… but was he really? Or did she just paint him that way to justify her distrust over the fact Khonshu still used him as Moon Knight and used him to rope poor Marc and Steven back into the role as his Fist?

He wasn't some scary boogeyman, he was… a guy. A guy who loved his “brothers”, his friends, who protected–and loved–fiercely and with his whole being. A man now struggling with the weight of flinging himself into the very instincts so many throughout their lives craved to feel when they finally found their soulmate, or simply denying the possible bliss of being cradled in your loving arms, spending the rest of your lives together…

“Sí, it's… I'm trying to think of a way to keep Marc and Steven in the dark. Maybe if… if I just let them think of her as a friend...” He sighed.

Layla frowned. Okay that was another reason that reminded her why she didn't fully trust him, yet. The fact he was willing to hide such important things from Marc and Steven to “protect” them.

Yes, it was important to protect them, but some things are just inevitable, bound to be found out.

It's the difference between ripping off a bandage or pulling a child out of a clean room.

Pulling off the bandage, yeah, it'll hurt for a moment but it will pass.

However, if you put a child inside of a sterile bubble, the moment that bubble bursts, their immune system will be compromised and they won't be able to adjust to the changing environment around them…

“Jake… sometimes you just have to rip off the band-aid.” Layla replied. “You won't be able to hide this–hide her–from them forever.”

He wiped at his face, and made a frustrated groan. The buzz of the alcohol did little to ease his concerns. After all, once he took up the mantle tonight, his buzz would evaporate like dew beneath the summer sun. Not that London saw much of that these days.

“I know, Layla. I'm just… trying to buy time.”

“Jake… when it comes to your soulmate…” Layla said, giving him a sympathetic look.

“You don't have enough money in the world to do that. It will happen. Whether you're all ready for it or not.”

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Jake hadn't slept well that night. Marc and Steven needed a break, so they were still in the back of his mind, in the headspace, not really conscious of what Jake had been doing inside the body. They thankfully agreed to let Jake assume control, to give his headmates a much-needed break.

“Just like old times?” Layla had quipped sardonically, and, of course, Jake had to pretend the comment didn't hurt him at all. It did, but… he still didn't want her to feel bad about saying it.

Sure, he's done questionable and sometimes horrible things, but it was all for them. Marc, Steven, Layla, innocent people, and now… you.

Beautiful, sweet, oblivious you.

He'd started coming to your shop more, under the excuse that you had good coffee (which honestly you begged to differ, it was merely stuff you bought in bulk at the market) and the quiet atmosphere was more relaxing than a regular cafe; which even you agreed was rather dead. Many people didn’t stop in for a cuppa when simply buying old sci-fi novels…

Jake had even gone so far as to bring the stacks of books that Steven had been meaning to bring to you for a trade-in credit, just for another excuse to come in to see you.

It was all to keep you safe, to make sure nobody bothered you, to make sure you were doing okay.

He promised himself there was nothing less.

But even so, you were the candle flame to his moth, and he was drawn to you.

Drawn to you, but knowing if they got too close or touched you, they would burn, and there would be no going back once they did. What was that saying about flying too close to the sun?

He just… he couldn't let any of you know that he knew. As painful as it was to admit, he was already falling for you and he couldn’t bear to face it for fear of throwing caution to the wind and losing it all.

Not until today, not until he went to the market down the block, in search of something to cook for dinner. It was pouring outside, despite the forecasters saying to expect sleet. No, no, of course it wouldn't be sleet. It was just freezing cold rain. Rain that felt like tiny frozen icicles hitting his skin in fat droplets.

He shook his jacket, the droplets falling from the leather and onto the large carpet beneath his feet at the entrance. After that, Jake pulled his cap back up and nodded politely to the greeter and proceeded his way inside. He was craving something, but wasn’t sure what. Something with a little kick, something with meat. So, undecided on what in particular he wanted to eat, he settled for wandering the aisles, randomly picking up items here and there, pretending to read the labels until he made up his fractured mind.

“Jake? Jake Lockley?”

His head whipped up so quickly he almost felt his vertebrae snap when he lifted his eyes to meet yours, innocent and twinkling as you appeared so sure of your guess. You were instinctively right, of course, but the inner jokester within him was tempted to fake Marc’s voice to mess with you.

He shoved his hands into his jeans–mostly to conceal how badly they were shaking–and tossed you what he hoped was a charming, convincing smirk, “Ah. Caught me red-handed, Rosa. How’d you guess?”

“Well, aside from the fact you’re wearing your trademarked hat and jacket…” You playfully tapped your nose and winked at him. “...You look like you just caught a whiff of–and stepped in--horse shit.”

Jake couldn’t suppress himself, chuckling and shaking his head, “That’s a… unique way of putting it.”

“I’m full of surprises!” You beamed proudly, “So, what’re you here for? I don’t think I’ve bumped into you here, before!”

“Ah, I’m here to… well, find something to eat. Or well, more accurately, something to cook to eat.” He sighed and tipped his head. “I might just buy a frozen dinner and call it a night.”

The offended gasp his comment elicited from you made butterflies flitter about in his belly. He felt like a teenager talking to the popular girl he had a crush on in school.

“Oh no you will not! So many of those have awful preservatives and just aren’t healthy for you!” You tut, reminding him so much of Steven. He couldn’t hold back his smile as you ranted and spoke about healthy eating habits, honestly reminding him of Steven in this moment.

His attention began to wonder as he took in every bit of your face–every blemish or thing you may consider yourself to be an imperfection, tracing every dip and contour of your cheeks, nose, and the slope of your jaw…

“You know what–” You huffed, the hand that wasn’t holding your basket firmly planted on your hip. “No. Why don’t you come have dinner with me? The thought of you making something like some yucky frozen meatloaf is just… blegh.”

Jake felt his brain record-scratch, finally being pulled out of his admiring stupor. “I–what? Oh, no, no, I don’t think that…” He floundered.

Him! The Jake Lockley, left without a quip to be uttered!

“Nah.” You say, walking past him. “I'm making you dinner. C’mon, I’ll need help grabbing stuff.”

On sheer instinct, he followed you like an obedient puppy. “Look, uh, I…”

“Not takin’ no for an answer, Lockley. Now, c’mon!”

The man was hopeless. All he could do was admire your figure and personality once again. Sweet, gentle–but also fiery and bull-headed when it suited you.

Jake fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Layla’s number, texting;

“Order something out for dinner, La-La… It looks like I have plans.”

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Chapter 11: Link

[babiebom]

Hii! Could you do P, V, X and Z for Sebastian (sdv) for kinktober? 👉👈

A/N: yup yup!! Also just for anyone who is reading the seb x reader fic i am trying so hard to finish the current chapter but somehow my writing is constantly awkward. Maybe I just need to talk to people more idk.

Tw: sexual content

Alphabet Post Masterlist

P-Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sebastian is a fast and rough kinda guy. He likes FUCKING and that’s exactly what he is going to do. He tried the slow and hard but he just loses control and chases his high and can’t stop it. Will make an effort if you want him to be slower and sensual, but he prefers the rough fucking.

V-Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I think he varies based on what mood he is in. At the very least he is grunting and panting, it’s decently loud, he’s not trying to hide anything at all. I think he is VERY vocal and talks as he’s fucking. It’s not full on sentences but it is a bunch of “fucks” and “yeahs”. Sometimes he whimpers and moans if he isn’t in control, also never hides those.

X-X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Ooof. Now this is one that I struggle with for EVERYONE I have no experience with penises(peni? Penis’s? Penis’?) so this is literally from my mind and how I assume they look. This is so weird for me to describe

Anyways I think it’s about 8 inches, and had decent girth but isn’t too fat. The tip is pinkish and when it’s hard it turns red. Just barely curves upwards to hit all the right places. Literally big dick emo boy.

Z-Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

This is literally the only time he can fall asleep quickly from how worn out he is. Literally good sex cures his insomnia momentarily. He makes sure to at least make sure you are comfortable enough to sleep yourself, might run a bath for the two of you, if he isn’t completely worn out, where the both of you fall asleep until he wakes up first and puts you both to bed.

[frozenartscapes]

Everyone’s talking about that P.O.W. line from the most recent chapter so I’m going to throw in my own (maybe crazy) theory:

It’s not about Anya’s parents. It’s about Yor’s.

Ok, hear me out: based on everyone’s ages, I would guess this takes place either just before the adults in the main story were born, or were very little. This flashback storyline seems to be taking place near the start of the war, however we shouldn’t assume that the rumoured experimentation wasn’t happening before the war started, either. So what if this experimentation wasn’t about getting a telepath, but rather a super soldier?

We know Yor lived in East Neilsberg but I don’t believe it’s been explicitly stated that her family is from there. Her mother was likely “from the South” due to her using a customary ingredient from that area in a recipe but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s from Southern Ostania. She could have come from the southern border region in Ostania/Westalis. On top of that, if either one or both parents weren’t from Ostania, it may explain why she has (supposedly) no other extended family within Ostania who could have helped her raise Yuri. No aunts or uncles, grandparents, cousins… Not even family friends or third cousins once removed. Have they all died due to the war/sickness/etc. or do they just not live in the country?

So, what if either both parents or at least just her mother were taken in as prisoners of war (either from being soldiers for Westalis or maybe even civilians from a border town swept away in the chaos). The experiments were to try and gain a Winter Soldier-esque weapon of war, and then preferably more of them to create an army. The experiments were extreme and killed most of the test subjects but Yor’s mother survived. And what if it was because she was pregnant?

She gave birth to a beautiful little girl, and then thanks to what the bastards had done to her and her motherly instincts being turned up to eleven, she breaks out with her child before they could determine if the experiments had any effect on the baby. Yor’s parents then escape to a quiet corner in the southeast of Ostania, believing it to be too risky to try to get back to Westalis. They raise their little girl with kindness and love, trying as hard as they could to give her a life free from the horrors they faced themselves. Eventually, they have a second child and all seems well. Both of their children are bright and happy and strong… Perhaps a little too strong in the case of the daughter. Even their son is more resilient than most kids. But their abilities aren’t the things that would make them the weapons those researchers wanted: it was who they were as people. And Yor is such a compassionate, innocent little girl despite her ability to bend inch-thick metal at the age of seven. And Yuri is so passionate and loving despite his ability to bounce back so quickly from broken bones.

But then they’re discovered. The parents do what they must to protect their children, and it works…but they don’t come home that night. Or the next night. Or the next.

Yor realizes what must have happened - that her parents had died while they were out running errands - and it left her in charge of the household. (And to go deeper: because their parents were trying to hide from the Ostanian government, they didn’t carry accurate identification so in the event something like this happened, officials wouldn’t be led back to their children. This is why no one discovered that there were two now-orphaned young children living alone and either forced them into a relative’s custody or an orphanage.)

And from there, we get to what we do know: Yor struggled to take care of Yuri until she was discovered by Garden. Her natural strength came in handy (but I also maintain that Shopkeeper also looks for specific personalities as well, so Yor’s unwavering bravery and her deep capacity for empathy and kindness also were key) and she was trained up to be on of the best assassins in Ostania. Garden would have done a great job in ensuring her super strength remained hidden by training her to control it better. It also would have provided the necessary cover and support to keep her and Yuri from falling into suspicion from the government.

Due to their desire to protect their children, Yor’s parents never talked about what happened to them. As far as she and Yuri are concerned, they were born in Ostania and are citizens of Ostania. (And technically that is the case for them both, although Yor’s birth certificate was forged since the scientists in the lab didn’t care enough about a baby that may not even live for very long to create one.) How they find any of this out, I’m not sure, but it opens up some interesting plot beats.

Yor would find out her strength really is unnatural, and that she’s technically a human test subject (but that would also further deepen her connection with Anya, and maybe would mean Anya would be more willing to open up to Yor if she hasn’t already). Yuri would discover that the country he’s been sacrificing so much for has not only tortured and experimented on his parents (and sister) but also is the reason they were orphaned (and all the hardships that came with that). Maybe there’s a chance then that one or both parents actually survived, and are just waiting for another conflict to be trotted out as the weapons that they are. Or there are relatives in Westalis who are more than thrilled to be reunited with their lost family.

(And this would work logically for the type of experiments these shady labs were doing: during wartime and the build up to it they would focus on things that would put them ahead of their enemy from a weapons standpoint. Focusing on boosting their armies’ capacities would be the priority at the start of the war. But toward the end, and then going into the Cold War, they would shift to intelligence-based research. Anya’s telepathy and Bond’s future sight would be more beneficial in a war of intelligence than an actual war, hence the shift toward that around the time that Anya was born. And I know Code: White isn’t technically canon but there’s a particular character in that movie that further suggests that Ostania was trying very hard to turn people into weapons.)

So yeah, that’s my theory (this became a much longer post than I first thought it would be).

[chiriwritesstuff]

... in Every Universe - A Roswell-inspired Modern! Din Djarin x F! Reader Soulmates AU (Prologue)

Chapter Rating: M

Chapter Summary: At five years old, you're found wandering alone in a weird town called Roswell and have no recollection of how you got there. 20 years later, you're working at your adoptive family's diner and you can't help the connection you feel with the town's bounty hunter, who just can't stop staring at you... what happens when you're on the brink of death and the man in question saves you in a way you can't explain?

Chapter Tags and Warnings: Canon divergent, minor descriptions of violence towards the reader (she gets shot), flashes between different universes and POVs, eventual smut, explicit language, loosely based on 'Roswell' (the 1999 WB series), Grogu exists in all universes, no beta we die like men!

Word Count: 1.7k

Nova

"Here we go! One meteor shake and one Alien Blood for the lady!"

You place the drinks down on the table, a forced smile gracing your lips as you eye the eccentric couple across from you. Arching a curious eyebrow, you take in their vibrant Crash Festival shirts, suppressing the urge to snort. "So, are you two here for the Crash Festival this weekend?"

"We sure are!" the man excitedly says, placing an arm around his girlfriend. "It's our first time here in Roswell. Are you from here?"

"Proud to say my family's been in Roswell for at least the last four generations," you declare, a hint of pride coloring your words as you wipe your hands on your apron.  Sure, you think to yourself.  I was actually found wandering around town by myself not knowing who I was at five years old before being found by your adoptive father one night, but how would they know?

The couple's faces light up with excitement, drawing closer to you. "So your family must know about what happened all those years ago then?" the woman asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "...with the crash, that is?"

"Well, I guess since you both seem like nice folks, it wouldn't hurt to share this with you," you say conspiratorially, reaching into your apron and withdrawing a folded paper. "I assume you can keep a secret?"

The couple's eyes widen as they slowly take the photo out of your hands, their mouths agape in astonishment. Your coworker Omera rolls her eyes as she passes by, coffee pot in hand, chuckling quietly to herself. "You are so bad," she whispers in your ear. "You're lucky your dad isn't around, I'm sure Greef would sprout another head if he had to deal with your antics once again," she adds, offering refills to the two men at the table next to you.  

"Refill, gentlemen?" Omera asks the men, frowning as she notices their aggravated state.

"Does it look like we need any refills?" one of the men asks harshly, waving her off. "Just go away!" he shouts, glaring at her. She gives you a frown as she turns around.  

You wave her off quickly, turning your attention back to the couple.  

"My grandfather actually was working near the crash site when he was younger and managed to take a picture before the feds arrived to clean up the scene," you whisper, glancing to your side to make sure no one else can hear your conversation. The photo shows a grotesque alien amongst the wreckage of a crash site, obviously fake.  

"Does anyone else know about this photograph?" the woman presses, taking note of your hesitance.  

"Well, I know about it, and now you guys know, too." You say seriously, trying not to laugh at their obliviousness.  

"Woah, this is fucking insane!" the man exclaims quietly, looking at the photograph once more.  

"I'll be right back, alright?" you suddenly say, a serious look on your face. "Don't show that to anyone, okay?"

"Yeah!" they both sputter, the man folding the photograph and placing it in his pocket. "Your secret's safe with us!" the woman whispers, nodding.

You nod back at her, straightening yourself up. You catch up to Omera as she laughs at the mischievous expression on your face.  

"You are such a menace!" Omera playfully smacks you as the two of you make your way back to the kitchen, a satisfied smirk on your face. "Oh, and Din Djarin is staring at you again," she adds, discreetly nodding in his direction.

"No way!" you exclaim, pushing her into the kitchen. "Omera, that is so in your imagination!"

You turn to look in the direction of the man in question, your eyes meeting his as he clears his throat, quickly breaking eye contact and glancing at his young son seated next to him. Your breath suddenly catches in your throat as you nervously glance back at your friend, the collar of your scratchy uniform suddenly too tight and constricting. "Din Djarin? This?" you point to yourself, shaking your head at your best friend. "No, uh-uh."

"Oh, but with those cheeks and that smile of yours? How can that handsome brooding man resist the princess of Roswell, huh?"

"Omera, come on, cut it out!" you exclaim, waving your hands in protest. "...and even if he was staring at me, it doesn't matter. I'm with Cobb! He's steady, sexy, and totally into me!" you declare, nodding to yourself as if trying to convince yourself as well.

"It sounds like you're describing a golden retriever or something," Omera deadpans, walking back towards the dining hall. "Sounds awfully exciting, shacking up with the Sheriff and all that," she mutters to you, shaking her head. "Why have dependable vanilla sex when you can have exciting mysterious sex with Roswell's resident bounty hunter? I bet he could fuck you five ways to-"

"I gave you a week!" the man from the neighboring table shouts, jumping up and pulling out a gun from his pocket. "You're about to see what happens when you mess around!"

"Nova!" Omera's voice rings out suddenly. "Call your dad, things are getting crazy!"

Before you can react, the other man lunges at the one with the gun, struggling to disarm him. In the chaos, the gun goes off, and you feel a sharp pain as you're hit.

"Oh my god!" Omera exclaims, turning to the other patrons. "Is everyone okay?" She looks towards your direction, her eyes widening in shock as she sees you curled up on the floor. "Nova!" she screams as the dining room descends into chaos, the two men running out of the restaurant in a hurry before someone calls 911. "Someone, help!" she screams into the crowd frantically.

Din 

Din jumps as he sees the bullet go in your direction, glancing at his young son still seated in the chair next to him. "Grogu, are you okay?"

"Yes, dada," he shakily responds, his eyes glancing at your crumpled form. "Nova's hurt!" he exclaims, pointing in your direction. "Grogu help her!" he cries, attempting to get out of his seat.

"No!" Din shouts, "You stay right there, I'll help her, okay? Stay with Uncle Boba!"

"Din, no," Boba warns through gritted teeth. "We can't risk getting exposed-"

"I can't just fucking leave her to bleed out!" Din cries helplessly, looking in your direction. "I need to help her!"

As he rushes toward you, Omera follows closely behind. "Call 911!" he commands, using it as a diversion to keep her away, not wanting her near the two of you as he grapples internally with what he's about to do.

"Nova," he whispers, ripping your uniform away from your body, his eyes trained on the blood pooling on your torso. "I need you to look at me, can you do that for me?" he pleads, placing a hand behind your head. "Nova," he begs, "Please baby, I need you to look at me."

Your eyes flutter open slightly as he gazes intently back at you, his hand applying pressure to your wound with gentle urgency. Vivid images flood your mind as Din focuses on healing you.

In an instant, you're in a desert, brandishing a laser sword against a lizard-like adversary. A voice calls out, and you're struck from behind by a blaster shot. Then, as Din presses harder on your wound, you're transported to a spaceship, writhing in pain as you clutch your abdomen. A figure stands beside you, armored and mysterious, their helmet removed. But before you can identify the man in armor, you snap back to reality, meeting the deep brown eyes of Din once more.

Din breathes a sigh of relief as the wound on your torso closes, his eyes fluttering closed as he recalls the visions he shared with you moments before. She can't be, he thinks to himself, his hands cradling your face gently as he draws you closer to him, pulling you into the safety of his chest. "You're okay, Nova," he whispers against your ear. "You're with me, alright? Stay with me."

"Dada," Grogu's sudden cry breaks the moment, his face etched with concern. "Did you heal mama?"

"What did you say?" Din's voice is filled with disbelief as he looks at his son. "What did you call her?"

"Mama," Grogu repeats, attempting to reach you. "I felt her pain just now, I knew I saw her in my dreams-"

"Djarin!" Boba's sudden shout startles you, and Grogu protests as he's lifted up, reaching out toward both of you. "We've got to go, NOW!"

Din swiftly assesses the situation, gently setting you back down on the ground before grabbing a nearby bottle of ketchup. Squeezing it over your chest and uniform, he meets your gaze with urgency. "You took a fall and broke the bottle accidentally," he whispers to you, swiftly rising to his feet. "Please, if Cobb asks, just say it was a nasty fall, okay?" With that, he dashes towards the door, joining Boba and Grogu already waiting in the idling car outside.

You nod as Omera rushes to your side, helping you up as you watch Din jump into the car and speed away.

"Nova," Omera says, her voice filled with concern as she takes in your disheveled appearance. "What in the hell just happened?"

"I don't know," you stammer, trying to make sense of it all. You close your eyes once more, and it feels as though you're still in that spaceship, with Din's hands clasping yours as he gazes back at you, tears streaming down his face. Your heart races as you glance down at your wounded form, only to find yourself suddenly pregnant, your eyes widening in disbelief at your swollen abdomen.

"Stay with me, Nova," Din pleads in your memory, tearing away your tunic as blood gushes from your abdomen. "Please, stay with me," he cries, tears cascading down his face as he tenderly caresses your pregnant belly. "Please Cyar'ika, please don't leave me!"

"Nova!" Omera's desperate screams are the last thing you hear as you slip into unconsciousness, the world around you plunging into darkness.

[yanderederee]

Alright, let’s talk about Ken Wakui’s newest work

Negai no Astro

Or Astro Royal, whatever you prefer.

I will be giving no blatant spoilers in this post, only speculations:)

Manga PV here; ITS SO GOOD!!!!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Let’s get the obvious out of the way, Ken Wakui has a very distinct art style. And I love it! A lot of people are making fun of it (mostly on Twitter/X), and it’s really sad. I love his style, and character development.

I have high hopes for this manga, and want to paint a picture of what to expect for those who also want to get into it♡

Let’s start Character Designs

—our main-trio—

We’re only one chapter in so far, so we’ve only met the main two boys, Terasu and Hibaru (left to right).

Terasu Yotsurugi - 12th Son

Loving Terasu’s take-no-shit personality so far. Simultaneously, he seems very kind and loyal to Hibaru’s ideals.

Terasu is giving Ryusei/Chifuyu lovechild.

Hibaru Yotsurugi - only Biological Son

I love Hibaru’s chivalrous/“old-fashion” ideology. He may seem ‘generic shonen protagonist’ right now, but i don’t care. I will appreciate him.

Hibaru is giving Mikey/Takemitchi lovechild.

As for our blue eyes beauty over here, we have yet to see her yet. She seems very cute though.

She’s also giving lovechild vibes; Senju/Hina specifically…

—The Yotsurugi family—

There are 13 Siblings of the Yotsurugi family, whom has a history of being Yakuza.

12/13 Siblings are adopted.

So far, we only have designs for 11 siblings.

We do not know a lot of names thus far, WHICH I NEED BTW, so let’s go over what we do have, and my first impressions of them.

—Names going Left to Right per image

Shio Yotsurugi - Eldest Son

He’s giving Timeskip!Taiju vibes. Anyone who says he looks like Ran…. I can’t see it. He’s too beefy- sorry.

I just know I’m not going to like this guy.

Has a lot of the people’s support, but not mine.

Probably thinks he’s going to make the family better when he’s really ruining it:(

Unnamed Glasses Guy - maybe 2nd Son?

Mmmmm no thoughts.

Token megane character—

Probably corrupt.

I hope he proves me wrong.

Kou Yotsurugi - 11th Son

Middle child vibes

He will be deranged and misguided.

Probably “hates” Hibaru because he’s so much like their father, who I assume he respects, but doesn’t agree with.

He probably secretly admires them both though.

Unnamed Hottie - maybe 9th Son?

MINE. 👹👹👹 RAPID. FERAL. BARKBARKBARK—

Based on vibes alone, I lay claim. Awoogaawooga♡

I NEED NAMES, NOW WAKUI. NOW.

Who is he. Where was he. I must know.

also lowkey giving Angry’s blue-ogre vibes…

Didn’t appear in chapter 1 though so:( </3

Unnamed ScarGuy - maybe 10th Son?

Eyes always closed, speaks with ♡ at the end of his sentences…

Seems charming. I mean, look at those eyelashes…♡

Wanna give him a kith.

I have a feeling he and Unnamed Hottie are biological brothers… not sure.

Wakui please, sir, just one chance—-

Unnamed BraidGuy - maybe 8th Son?

Mr. I’ll just stay in my lane. Respect.

Realistically, I think he’ll be my first/second favorite eye candy, depending on how these characters personalities/canons end up being explored.

I’m sorry I have a thing for men with long hair!

Cool earrings too lol

Seems neutral to who’s in charge.

Wakui, seriously, I CAN TAKE HIM—!!!

BENKEI???? - maybe 5th Son?

Has lion-like eyes and sharp canines….big nose

My size kink is acting up—no, please nO—!

Okay but seriously. I’m not sure what to expect from him yet.

He seems honest, but I can see him getting power hungry:(

Handsome Lady - Maybe 3rd Daughter?

Cooler older sister vibes.

Awoogawooga

Please be a lesbian or at least bisexual—

Seems logical and cool. Probably doesn’t coddle innocence.

Mr.BigNose - Maybe 4th son?

Uh-uh. No thanks. Not bc of his appearance, but bc his character is depicted as insufferable so far.

Probably sexist.

Probably too coward to admit it, but if things with the family bond start turning south, he’s the first one OUT.

Hehe I may have left this screenshot wide to show off the One Panel that shows Mr. Unnamed Hottie *twirls hair*

I mean seriously look at him I’m going to scream without the s

Story Direction and Expectations

I trust Wakui. The way he explores his stories is through character bonds and personal ideals.

This is one of the reasons why I grew so fond of Tokyo Revengers.

Plus… it’s Found-Family Gang activity. It’s my soft spot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I would say Yakuza but I want to be respectful in how I throw that word around, so I’ll avoid it for now if I can.

The supernatural powers that get involved will surely lead to a type of succession war between the siblings.

“What it means to be strong” will probably be the fundamental lesson of the story.

I am so excited to see how Negai no Astro will progress!

Please support Ken Wakui however you can by reading Chapter 1 onwards!♡

[hearts4youz]

The Captains daughter: Chapter 19

A/N: Guysss... another half assed one sorry :( But trust me yall... your going to LOVE the next one!!! Thank you guys so much for reading. Feedback is always always always appreciated :)

Word count: 1k

Taglist: @abbiesxox @n30n-j3lly @weird-katthing @kayoyamamegame @kroowonderemporium @astro-ghoul99 @darkravenqueen98 @gaylilangelbaby @yuunnnaaaa @unicorngirly1

Reader pov:

Weeks after the New Years party, everyone's spirits have died down. The decorations had gone back into the supply closets and the base was business as usual. You hung up your gear and were ready to return to the barracks after a week long, sleepless mission. You felt so drained that you didn't even notice the young recruits following you. It wasn't until their snickering grew louder that you turned to face them.

You whirled around with a pissed look on your face, bags under your eyes from the long days and nights you had endured. You were not in the mood for games.

"Whatcha lookin' at, Y/N Price?" one of them said impolitely.

You sized the group up. There were three of them, young and green. They obviously haven't been trained enough to have developed even the slightest bit of respect for other soldiers, especially those higher ranked than them. You didn't pull rank often, mostly because you only outranked the privates and specialists, but you were too exhausted to be nice to them at this point.

"You three are out past curfew," You said sternly.

Another one of them fired back quickly, "Then I'd say you are too. Or do you get special treatment for being the captain's kid?"

Captains kid.

The title put you off and you glared at the recruits. How did they even know that? Most people assumed your last name was a coincidence. this base was so big that most people didn't even know your father, a captain, let alone you to put two and two together.

You decided to hold your ground and not show that the comment affected you.

"Curfew only applies to recruits."

They begin the circle you like a predator does its prey.

"It must be nice having it easy..."

"You must've climbed the ranks twice as fast as everyone else."

"I wonder how much time off you get."

The young men continue to slander you, their remarks getting worse by the minute. You contemplate running, but you don't want to show weakness. Tears rush to your eyes anyway.

"You're kinda pretty... but one wipe and its all gone," One gibes

"For sure, I assume daddy's money buys it all."

"Mhm... all that makeup, maybe some Botox too if she's that kinda girl"

They talk about you as if you're not even there anymore. Suddenly, one reaches out his hand to grasp a strand of your hair. You jerk away and let out a scream fueled by fear, weakness and exhaustion. You crumple to the ground in tears, no longer caring who sees. Their comments didn't even hurt you that bad, you're just so exhausted that your emotions get the better of you. At least that's what you tell yourself.

The men are mortified to see you in this deranged state and make a quick getaway. Leaving you alone in the hall between the gear lockers and the showers late at night. as if things couldn't get any worse, you feel the presence of someone standing above you.

You pick your head up from your hands and open your eyes to see who it could be. You are incredibly embarrassed when you see who it is.

"Oh, h-hi Ghost," you say, springing to your feet and quickly pawing at your eyes to wipe the tears away. It obviously doesn't work because he still looks at you with pity on his features. Which were only covered by a black surgical mask, allowing you to see his slightly outgrown hair and his ears for the first time. His hair looked damp, towel dried, with said towel slung over one of his broad shoulders.

"Y/N?" he says your name in a concerned voice.

You didn't know how to explain yourself, so you just shifted back and forth on your feet nervously until he spoke again.

"Why are you crying?" he asks bluntly.

"I- well..."

he raises an eyebrow

You sigh, "Some recruits were making fun of me..." you said in a soft, defeated voice.

"Come again?"

"Some recruits were making fun of me," you said slightly louder, but more embarrassed.

He furrows his eyebrows, you feel like melting from embarrassment.

"About what?"

"My dad."

"Your dad?" He says questioningly.

"Yes... my father."

"Such fuckin pricks," he says angrily. "And I assume they think your getting special treatment or some shit?"

"Mhm," You look at your feet to avoid his gaze.

he purses his lips, "Come here, I'm gonna walk you to your room. You deserve rest."

You silently comply, walking next to him and getting sleepily drunk off the scent of his body wash.

Ghost Pov

The next morning, I opted to wake up earlier than most to use the gym before it got crowded. I had forgotten about the recruits being required to be at training this early, which worked to my advantage. A group of four recruits walked towards the training facilities, three of them telling the fourth about their antics the night before.

"Yeah man, she was crying and everything, it was so crazy."

"You should'a seen how sad she was that we outed her for being treated better."

"Mhm, she probably didn't have to go through basic like us. Weak ass bitch."

I listen in and grow more infuriated with each one that talks.

"Recruits!" I bark.

They turn around and suddenly slink back with fear when they see me, as most do.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Uhm... no one sir... just a girl back home."

"Bullshit, you talked about her not going through basic like the rest of you. I know who your talking about, and I can assure you she did."

"S-sorry lieutenant, please don't report us or anything," one of them says sheepishly.

"Report you? you'll be lucky if reporting you is the only thing I do."

"No sir, please! y-you don't understand!" one of them pleads.

"Yeah! the only reason we did it is to get her attention... we just wanted the pretty sergeant to notice us."

He doesn't get another chance to defend himself, my fist connects with his face before I even realize what i'm doing. He stumbles back while clutching his jaw and slams into the wall, doubling over in pain. His buddies stand there in fear, wincing and waiting for me to deliver their punishments.

"She's mine, got that?"

With that, I walk off towards the gym.

[skyward-floored]

The cat’s out of the bag chapter 6

Fight time babey!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52017334/chapters/145974010

Chapter 5 | Next (coming soon)

————————————————————

Twilight and the others bolted through the woods, Legend at the helm with Wind clinging tight to his shoulder. Twilight was running beside them, dodging stray roots and slippery leaves, and listening carefully for whatever it was that Wind had heard.

He heard nothing but their footsteps though, and anxiety twisted through him as they ran.

Had Wind heard Sky? Monsters? Something else entirely?

They could have stopped and tried to figure it out from Wind’s meows, but they didn’t have time to waste. Sky didn’t have time to waste.

He’d been missing for over a day now, and Twilight knew his mind wasn’t the only one running rampant with possibilities, all of them bad. The scene behind them haunted him, the blood on the ground and gouges in the trees, and he pushed himself to run even faster.

Twilight heard Four puffing behind him as the ground began to slope upwards, the trees thinning out. The sound of water faintly hit his ears, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. All he knew was that they were moving up onto a small ridge of some kind, and the ground was getting rockier and more difficult to run on.

Legend suddenly flung out an arm to stop Twilight, and he froze, looking at the spot where Legend was pointing.

A group of monsters, dead ahead.

They were just close enough for them to see, the beasts gathered on a rocky outcropping. The group appeared to mostly be lizalfos-looking things, a few taller ones in the back with deadly-looking axes. Some tektites were scattered around as well, or at least what Twilight assumed were tektites based on the long legs, along with a single moblin he recognized from Wild’s era.

Legend pulled him back a little so they wouldn’t be seen through the sparse cover, and Twilight frowned at the beasts as the other Links caught up to them.

“Monsters,” he said, and Wind let out a soft hiss. “Organized ones. The same from the clearing?”

“No, these look fresh,” Warriors said, eyes narrowed as he counted. “No injuries or blood on them. And no sign of Sky. Must be a different group.”

“Should we fight them? Or just sneak past?” Four asked, slightly out of breath, and Time hummed, studying them.

“There aren’t too many... if they’re infected they’ll give us trouble though. And I’ll admit I don’t know all of those beasts. Traveler?”

Hyrule looked at the group of monsters, grimacing. “Not a good group to fight when we’re down two swords. Those two tall ones at the back there, those are Dairas, they’re bad news. And except for the tektites, the rest are smart enemies as well. I’ve... never seen a group like this outside of dungeons.”

“Might be wise to avoid them for now, then. We’re pressed on time, and we can always hunt them down again once we find Sky,” Warriors said.

Hyrule nodded. “There isn’t anyone around for them to attack anyway, except for us. We’re a long way from any settlements.”

Twilight nodded with the rest of them, and studied the terrain.

They were in a thin strip of forest at the moment, a steep upward slope to their right, the rocky cliff with the monsters to their left. If the beasts saw them, there wouldn’t be many places to run or fight... at least not easily. Twilight looked at the cliff with a frown, and Wild joined him, craning his neck to try and get a better look at it.

“Is it a long drop that way?” Wild asked, tilting his head towards the cliff. Hyrule made a so-so gesture.

“If I’m remembering correctly, it could be worse, but it isn’t great. The river loops around below, but it’s not very deep, and pretty rocky.”

“So it wouldn’t end well. Gotcha,” Legend said as he and Wind both studied the area. “Avoid the monsters, avoid the cliff, and we’ll be just fine.”

Hopefully, Twilight thought with a grimace. If they were seen, this had the potential to be a messy battle. Not to mention the problem of keeping Wind safe if something happened...

Twilight glanced at him, but the sailor didn’t seem bothered at the possibility of a fight, just worried about Sky. Twilight almost asked him to move to his shoulder, but then he remembered his promise to be less overbearing, and overprotective.

So he took a deep breath in, and then let it out, trying to expel all of his worries along with it. They would be fine. Wind would probably fare better than most of them if there was a fight actually, since he could easily run and hide.

Not that he would want to do either of those things.

The Links began to prepare to sneak, and Twilight set his thoughts aside as they all muffled armor and put away noisy accessories. He watched as Wild slipped a mask over his face beside him, tying his hair up into a bun, and Warriors glanced at him in confusion.

“...Why are you doing that, Champion?”

Wild looked at Warriors as if that was the stupidest question he’d heard all day. “Makes me sneakier. Duh.”

“...I won’t question how putting your hair up makes you sneakier. Or covering your mouth, for that matter.”

“It keeps him from running it,” Legend said with a smarmy grin, and Wild elbowed him.

“Enough, let’s go. No noise,” Time warned, already having padded his armor in key places to quiet its clanking. “And keep an eye out for any sign of our missing knight.”

The other Links nodded, and they began to file quietly through the undergrowth, keeping crouched low to the ground. Hyrule led the line, showing those behind him the quietest places to step, and Time held up the rear, making sure nobody got behind. Wind stayed hunched on Legend’s shoulder, his tail twitching with anxiety, and Legend gave his head a quick scratch.

Twilight followed behind the two, avoiding crumbly rocks and wishing he could transform. He’d be able to sneak so much easier if he had the abilities of a wolf. He might even be able to sneak ahead and cause a distraction so the others could slip by undetected.

He never thought he’d miss the option to turn into a beast so much.

A bird cawing in the branches above them had everyone tense, but the monsters didn’t seem to care, only giving a glance their direction before returning to whatever it was they were doing. Hyrule had them remain motionless a moment longer than necessary, then waved them on with a tense look.

Twilight sighed quietly in relief, and they continued, crawling through the leaf litter.

Ignoring the fact that they were sneaking around a group of bloodthirsty monsters that were likely infected, it was actually a rather nice afternoon. The sun was well on its way to setting, golden sunshine spilling through the trees. Tiny pink flowers poked up through the rocks to catch the last hour or two of sun for the day, and their sweet perfume occasionally tickled Twilight’s nose.

And Wind’s, apparently.

Legend crawled right by a patch of flowers, pollen floating into the air when he brushed against them, and Wind stiffened, his nose and whiskers twitching. Before Twilight could try to figure out what was up, the little sailor let out a huge, sniveling, cat sneeze.

And then three more in rapid succession, all louder than the previous.

Everyone froze, and Twilight looked at the monsters, one of the Dairas staring directly at the bushes where they were crouched.

Its snout scrunched up as it sniffed the air, and Twilight held his breath as it skulked closer, claws gripping its axe. The other Links put their hands on their weapons as it leaned towards the shrub where Legend and Wind were sheltering behind, and Twilight tensed, prepared to leap out and attack first.

Wild beat him to it.

Right as the Daira’s eyes landed on Legend and Wind, an arrow embedded itself right in its forehead, making it rear backwards with a howl. The other monsters immediately noticed, and Warriors shouted for them to attack while they were still surprised.

The Links exploded out of the bushes and began to fight, alarmed cries from the monsters ringing through the air. Twilight went for the daira Wild had shot, and it snarled, black blood dripping down its face. Somehow the headshot hadn’t killed it.

Their weapons clashed, a loud screech of metal against metal making Twilight’s ears hurt. They strained for a moment, Twilight actually sliding back in the dirt a little, but then he managed to push back and slash at the monster’s shoulder.

It howled in anger as more blood spread across its scales, beady eyes glaring at Twilight. It raised its arm back to throw its axe at him, and Twilight scrambled for his shield.

Wild came in the clutch again though, shooting an arrow in a gap in its armor near the daira’s shoulder. It turned towards him with a furious screech, but Twilight took the opportunity to lunge forward and separate its head from its body.

Blood sprayed as it fell, but Twilight didn’t waste time watching, turning towards the rest of the battle. It was a messy affair, monster blood making the rocks slippery, axes flying and tektites leaping down upon them. Twilight was only looking for one thing though, and as he held his shield up to block a stray axe, his heart pounded sickeningly.

Where was Wind?

A screech rang through the air, and Twilight saw Wind still clinging to Legend’s shoulder, serving as a pair of eyes for the back of his head. A lizalfos had tried to sneak up on the veteran while he was busy with some tektites, but Wind had given him enough warning to whirl around and defend himself.

Twilight sighed in relief, and ran towards the cliff where Time was fighting two lizalfos by himself. Legend was keeping Wind safe, the veteran would do a good job.

Going back-to-back with Time, Twilight fought the monstrous lizards together with him, slipping easily into a pattern of movement. Time would jump and Twilight would thrust, Twilight would dodge and Time would use the opening he’d been given.

They were steadily wearing the beasts down, and Time finally shouted for him to duck, and Twilight did, his mentor whirling into a spin attack that stunned both lizalfos.

Twilight sprang back up and killed the one he’d been focusing on, but the other managed to avoid Time’s strike. Twilight moved to help him, then lunged out of the way as the other daira threw an axe at his face.

Time took a hit on his cheek, but before Twilight could panic, he sprang forward and killed the lizalfos despite the blood on his face. Twilight glared back at the daira as it raised its arm again, but when an arrow just barely missed its neck, it abruptly turned and threw it a different direction.

Right at Wild, who couldn’t move fast enough to avoid it.

The axe hit Wild’s shoulder with a sickening thud, and he went down with a cry, red already visible on his tunic.

Twilight’s blood went cold.

“Wild!” he shouted in a panic, but before he could run to the champion, something else went flying towards him.

He ducked just in time, and looked behind him to see a tektite go flying off the cliff, its legs waving frantically. Twilight stared, then looked back at where it had come from, and saw a tektite in the moblin’s grasp, its arm winding back. It threw another tektite at Twilight, which he dodged, and he watched this one also fall down the cliff and land in the river below with a distant splash.

The moblin was throwing tektites at them.

Oh come on!

“Champion’s down!” Twilight yelled, dodging tektites as he made his way towards the moblin. “Can anyone get to him?!”

“Got it!” Four shouted back, already on his way, and Twilight watched in relief as the smithy made it to the bush where Wild had collapsed. He knew Four had healing items on him, Wild would be fine. Please let him be fine.

Twilight watched Four for a little too long though, and something slammed into him, throwing him to the rocky ground with a grunt.

A tektite had landed on his chest, and Twilight swung at it, but the bug jumped out of the way. He growled and tried to get up to go after it, but the tektite jumped on him again, slamming him back down against the rocks.

Twilight glared up at it as his head throbbed, his back aching from the abuse it had suffered. Right as he was about to try something different, a sword tore through the bug, knocking it off of his chest and killing it at the same time.

Legend stood above him with a hand outstretched, and Twilight gladly took it with a nod of thanks. Wind meowed a greeting, still looking unharmed to Twilight’s relief, but he didn’t have time to talk to the two of them.

Something went flying towards Legend’s neck from behind, and Twilight lunged to pull him down, an axe coming so close to their heads that Twilight felt the air displace as it went by.

A snarl of anger rang through the air as Twilight and Legend scrambled to their feet, and Wind got a determined look on his face. Twilight didn’t like the look of that, but there were too many tektites and axes flying towards him to follow Wind when he suddenly leapt off of Legend’s shoulder and took off across the battlefield.

“Wind you idiot! Get back here!” Legend shouted, but Wind ignored him, slipping past monsters and darting between legs.

Twilight lost sight of him in mere seconds, and he and Legend exchanged exasperated looks. What was Wind thinking?

He’s going to get himself killed running off like that! All it’ll take is for a stray axe or a lizalfos swinging its tail the wrong direction and he’ll be—

A roar interrupted his thoughts, and Twilight lunged out of the way of the moblin that was bearing down on them. Legend had dodged the other direction, and they both swung their swords at the same time, trying to land a hit.

The moblin took both of their strikes with barely a flinch though, and Twilight had to lunge out of the way of another axe from the daira that nearly took his head off.

We don’t have time for this, Wind needs—

Legend took a hit from the moblin and fell backwards with a gasp, a hand pressed to his middle. He wasn’t bleeding, but he’d been hit hard enough that he was having trouble standing up. Twilight could hear him wheezing from here.

The moblin roared in excitement, and Twilight bolted over to Legend, standing between him and the moblin, and... sheathing his sword.

Legend wheezed something that sounded vaguely like “what on earth are you doing you numbskull”, but Twilight remained in front of him as the moblin eagerly ran forward, watching the distance intently.

Wait for it... wait for it...

The moblin was feet away and already pulling back to deal a deadly blow, thinking Twilight was defenseless, but Twilight was in the perfect position to perform one even more deadly.

He drew his sword in a move so fast nobody watching would have been able to follow it, and slashed the moblin from shoulder to hip moments before he himself would have been struck.

The moblin gurgled, then fell to the ground with a thud, already fading into shadow.

Twilight breathed out, and forced himself not to look at Time as he heard the Shade’s voice in his head.

The mortal draw deals death.

“...Wow,” Legend wheezed, and Twilight turned and offered him a hand up in a mirrored action of earlier. “I... want to learn that.”

“Maybe,” Twilight said with a faint smile, then remembered Wind. “Where’s the sailor?”

Legend and Twilight began scanning the battlefield again, slightly less chaotic with the monsters dwindling, and tektites no longer flying everywhere. Twilight finally spotted the lithe form of Wind slipping around some rocks near the cliff edge, and he squinted, relieved that he didn’t seem hurt.

He was less relieved when he snuck up onto a taller rock right next to the remaining daira, though.

The daira didn’t notice Wind and wound back to throw an axe at Warriors, who was bolting for Wild since Four had shouted for assistance. Before the daira could attack him or anyone else though, Wind launched himself at its arm, clinging to its scales and biting down.

Hard.

The monster howled and swung at him, but Wind didn’t let go, biting down even harder as the Daira flailed. It raised its axe again, but Wind merely let go of its arm and threw himself at its face, making it screech in rage.

It snapped at him with its teeth, and Twilight shouted, trying to get to the two. There were too many rocks and enemies between him and Wind though, and all Twilight and Legend could do was watch as the Daira tore Wind off its face, snarling with hatred.

Wind snarled back and bit the monster’s hand again, making it shriek. It whipped its hand around, frantically trying to dislodge Wind, and Twilight watched almost in slow-motion as it stepped backward, slipping on a loose rock.

The Daira cried out as it fell backwards towards the cliff, and Wind tried to scramble out of its grip, his determination switched abruptly to fear as he let out a frantic meow.

Twilight bolted for him and the Daira, shouting for Wind. Legend sliced at monsters with no mercy as they both charged forward, and Twilight’s heart pounded in his throat as he ran.

Wind, get loose, come on Wind please, get loose—

The daira teetered on the edge, scrambling to keep its balance and not fall, but it had slipped too far. It must have realized it wasn’t going to be able to save itself, and instead it grabbed Wind with both hands, stopping him from escaping and screeching in victory as they both tipped backwards off the cliff.

The last thing Twilight saw before the sailor went over the edge were two frantic blue eyes meeting his.

Then he was gone.

“WIND!”

[spadesncrows]

ok so abt that au i was talking abt before,,, 🥺👉👈

To start off, this is something I’ve had in the back of my mind for quite a bit that I haven’t been able to fully express and show due to reasons I’ll mention later. This project has lowkey given me some brainrot so I hope my words don’t just sound like I’m going clinically insane LMAOO i swear I’m so definitely normal abt my aus guys (denial)

Dead Casino is a twst au I’ve had for a while but has been on the backburner for being very unfinished. However, since it’s a little (keyword: little) bit more fleshed out, I think I can at least give a general summary on the concept !! :D

First off, the concept behind it was a direct inspiration from mlp infection aus I’ve seen on insta. Since mlp was a large chunk of my childhood and certain variants of horror had become an interest of mine as of late, I liked the idea of mixing them together. But—of course—when I enjoy something just enough, it eventually becomes a feeling of “how can I forcefully throw it in with my current obsession into the mind equivalent of a blender” and Dead Casino was the smoothie that came out of it. Essentially, the resulting foundation is that NRC experiences a zombie apocalypse, but as with most things I obsess over, I wanted to build on that.

To get into the nitty gritty of it first, there’s a few core things abt the infection that basically effect not only what the characters face, but the story itself:

The infection is primarily based off of blot, and the concept of it using something/someone as a vessel to control and harm others

While blot zombies are the most common creature plaguing the school, blot has the capability to take over different objects as well when under specific circumstances, which leads to the creation of (mostly) nonhuman blot infested monsters

Over-accumulation of blot can lead to an increased vulnerability to the infection. This especially targets those that have overblotted prior to the outbreak, even if they had seemingly “fully recovered” :)

As for the story, I don’t wanna get super into it just bc yknow spoilers, but the general overview is relatively simple(ish). Basically, it folllows Ace and the rest of his group of survivors (mostly Cater, Trey and Jade) after the initial outbreak on campus. I wanna say anywhere from a month to a month and a half?? Basically enough time to be at least a little more accustomed to everything going on if that makes sense !!

Ace and co. take refuge in classrooms near the cafeteria, but just like everyone else, is not allowed to leave the safezone unless permitted. Surprise surprise, he leaves the safezone not permitted. In fact he does this multiple times through the first couple chapters alone. And the whole story.

But essentially, Ace manages to figure out two things the first time he leaves the safezone in the prologue:

That there are living survivors in Heartslabyul trapped there under the rule of their infected housewarden, which—by extension—likely means the situation may be the same in other dorms

That both Deuce Spade and Grim—who he hadn’t seen since the outbreak and assumed were dead—were actually alive and MIA.

And that basically kickstarts the rest of the story !! The main group infiltrates different dorms in the hopes of reconnecting with any survivors, all while trying to solve the mystery of their old friends’ whereabouts :)

Now the reason why a good chunk of this au was pretty much kept under wraps was for one main reason specifically: I had zero clue how to present it.

My initial thought was “oh!! Fanfic :3” and then it scrambled into “…comic? Animation? No?? Both?? Neither??”

…and then it kinda just sat there. I had the story, I had the idea, I had the biggest brainrot, but no way to properly explain or show it. And then I got the thought that plagues me every single time—at least once—I join a fandom: make it a video game.

At first, i wasn’t going to. But then it clicked into place just a bit too well and the ideas kept coming together and it wouldn’t stop and now we’re here :3

More specifically, Dead Casino is gonna be portrayed as a desktop game ^^ (i took like two game dev classes, sue me /j)

here’s some ideas for different mechanics I thought of including !! They’re all on my spam blog, but I have a third blog in the works rn where I’ll have all the info organized eventually :3

[1], [2], [3]

And here’s some irl doodles I’ve made for this!! These are beta designs and the like for different characters and stuff !! (Tw for body horror, knifes and guns, lmk if I need to add any more warnings ^^)

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us Chapter 2 || Masterlist

Literally posting the first two parts and then passing out lol, same tags as last time, same inspiration from this art by @cheesy-cryptid , same everything basically.

Summary: Octavia goes to a place in the Upper City to meet her boss. Turns out it's extremely secretive.

Oh one thing I forgot to mention. The chapter titles are based on the song "I Caught Fire" by The Used.

Thanks again to my babe @micropoe10 for being my beta reader and best friend ❤️

also tagging @satanicspinosaurus because they're the first person to ask to be tagged (!!!!) Thanks for the support guys, it means A LOT.

Chapter 2

Could stay a while

Gale gave Octavia the very secret directions to the restaurant she was due to meet her boss in. It was a fancy place in the Upper City, secluded enough for only those who knew where it was could find it. Looking down at the piece of paper with the code to enter, she knocks on the door. A voice comes out of nowhere, loudly asking, "PASSWORD?" Nervously she speaks the phrase on the paper, instantly the door opens and the piece of paper is gone. "Wow, they really don't want people to know about this place huh?" "I would assume not, some of us do pay quite a bit of gold for the exclusivity." A haughty voice speaks out from behind her, a blush quickly develops on her cheeks as the realization crosses that she was not alone.

She quickly stammers "Oh it's my first time here, I was more surprised than anything." She chuckles at her own expense. The man behind her is cloaked in the light of a street lantern directly behind them. "Well, I hope you enjoy it, they say the first time is incredibly memorable..." The last word spills out with a sultry drawl, he walks past her and into the hallway, eventually fading into the darkness of the restaurant. The blush on her cheeks has definitely covered her entire face now.

Octavia takes a few breaths. Then steps into the dark restaurant. The interior of the establishment is lowly lit, almost completely dark, save for the candles on the tables and sconces on the walls. She looks around to the other patrons, all impeccably dressed in clothes that look like they would cost at least 5 months pay.

"This way, miss." Octavia is led to a private room towards the back, the waitress knocks on the red wooden door in front of them, a voice that sounds like Gale's calls out "I think she's here, let me go greet her!"

Gale comes out in a much nicer suit than his usual one, slightly fitted for a guy who you only see in cardigans and loose sweaters. "Okay, now I definitely feel underdressed, is there a dress code here that someone forgot to inform me about?" Octavia jokes, "Because if I had a reason to go buy a new wardrobe with my graduation money, it would've been good to know."

Gale looks at her slightly confused until he notices her wearing practically the same outfit she wore to work, the only exception was her blazer, it wasn't the one he accidentally spilled ink on when they were restoring some letters together earlier in the day.

He sucks his teeth and apologizes "I absolutely did, and I'm not sure how to make up for it yet, but I promise you look wonderful. You have your talents and expertise to speak for themselves! No amount of lavish clothing can eclipse that. Besides, Mr. Ancunin trusts me much more than anyone else. He and I have talked at great lengths about your impressive knowledge of the Heroes of Baldur's Gate. He's made remarks about it, seeming like you've been there yourself!" He laughs as he leads her into the room, would this be the time to tell him her family history?

As she approaches the table, a shadow becomes clear and his form begins to take shape. His hands are the first thing she sees come out from behind the cloak around his shoulders; slender fingers with a spider like length, lustrous skin like pearls, one reaches out and takes hers in a handshake. "My my..Made your way over from outside, darling?" That voice sounded like the man from outside."How was the walk over? Not too far in the back are we? I wanted to make sure our meeting was nice and private."

The waitress who led her down to this room lights a few more candles, replacing some that had apparently gone out. The barely lit room fills with warm yellow light and her boss becomes more illuminated by each one.

Octavia notices his hair first, a mop of silver and white styled into a messy tousle of curls. His ears were pointed, the few rings of hair that fell on them perfectly encircled around as if on purpose. She noticed something particular though, he was wearing sunglasses inside? In this dark place?

Before she even knew, she asked "Why are you wearing sunglasses inside at night?" Taken aback, her boss laughs loudly as he looks towards Gale, "You were right, cheeky little pup, isn't she?"

His grin grows mischievously. Gale shrugs and pulls the chair out in front of him, he motions Octavia to sit. She makes her way over and takes her spot, Gale sitting to her right. "Miss Octavia, I would be honored to finally introduce you to our esteemed head curator of the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, Mr. Astarion Ancunin."

Gale flourishes the last bit by extending his arm out to his right, Astarion dips his head in a small bow. "I do apologize for the last minute absence, my dear" he sips his wine and places the glass down.

"I believe you're both reaping the benefits of that excursion in the hard work you've been doing. Which is the cause of this little outing I've set up for the three of us. Obviously, I wanted to meet you beforehand, Octavia, but some things have to be sacrificed for the good of preservation. I take this work very seriously, I want to ensure these priceless artifacts don't get lost to time, as some things have before." He takes a slow sip of his wine, "I believe Gale has told you about his little interest in our Szarr art collection?"

Astarion playfully asks Octavia, as he turns to Gale, a devilish smile on his face, sipping more wine. "He has, actually, but I asked." she answers "Really? And what do you make of this mystery subject? You must have a theory, yes?" He places a hand under his chin, turning to look at her behind those dark lenses.

Octavia feels the same chill she felt when she first looked at the painting on the wall. She gulps,"Uh not yet, but I'm curious as well...the subject looks like a male elf, maybe about 40? No more than 100 it seems..."

She trails off a little, looking down at the table. "Whomever they were, they seem important somehow, like they were a favorite or something? A favored consort, possibly? I'm hoping that after Gale and I are done with this project, we may be able to find out?" She fidgets with her fingers a little under the table, hearing a pleased hum she straightens up and looks to Gale. He has a giant smile on his face, and gives her a reassuring nod.

A silence falls on the table as they turn to look at Astarion, his eyebrows come together.. he seems angry, perhaps annoyed, was he upset at her speculation? Her heart was in her throat, where was the waitress? She needed water and quick- "Why do you think that?" Astarion asks pointedly, taking a more prominent drink of his wine. "Why do you think that one is favored?"

Octavia feels a lump at her throat, she swallows and answers "They're in a lot of paintings in the gallery...I noticed them in at least a dozen...in the forefront of four, the background of 6...the main subject of two..it's quite a lot for someone who doesn't matter.." She hears a soft huff, not annoyed this time. "Interesting. Most people say that he's pretty or gorgeous or go on about his beautiful body, but you focused on the importance of the subject. I admire your insight, Octavia. I see why Gale tipped the scales for you."

[romanarose]

All right, I lied I’m talking about it again

CW for mentions of sexual assault, CSA, supposed, pedophilia, fandom, discourse, kink, etc, etc

First, let me explain to those confused, what happened and then I’ll defend myself and then we’ll leave it there because once I go through everything your opinion is just going to be based on your point of view and I can’t really argue you out of that which is fine, so just go ahead and block me if you think I’m a creep weirdo or anything else that Radiohead says

Today as I am in class packing up my shit to leave right after my presentation I get a notification from a Tumblr mutual that said that a Tumblr blog I’ve never heard of or interacted with is posting about me in a harassing way so I go and I check it into my surprisethey posted screenshots of my most recent fanfiction. I miss you Mr. Miller.

The post explicitly called me a pedophile. I’ll share the screenshots, but the username as far as I can tell has been cropped out of everything. If you want to send and ask to this person and say your peace, I can’t stop you, but I ask you not harass this person, and simply report the post, if you know who it is

In one of the re-blogs or an answer to an ask, they called for mass, reporting my blog

No, I don’t say this to say that people who have been through what I’ve been through can’t be pedophiles or abusers, because they absolutely can but I say this to say why I had such a reaction to this and why I write the things I write

I have been a victim of child, sexual abuse was stocked, threatened and sexually harassed by an older man. When I was 17, lost my virginity to rape and 18, and then was raped again at 19 so believe me when I say that throwing around these words is shocking to me to just call me a pedophile. I write the things I write, innocent, reader, virgin reader, daddy kink, because of the things that I have been through sometimes as a reclamation of the experiences that I have suffered, sometimes as coping sometimes as comfort depends on the story.

No, let’s talk the specific issues

1. Shoes. Before I saw any of this, someone had DM me politely mentioning the shoes saying that they looked like child feet and that they wanted to make sure they were adult feet. I responded back that when I found the shoes on Pinterest they didn’t say anything one way or another, but I specifically look at the descriptions of clothing items because I don’t want to use clothing items that aren’t made for adults. If I can help it however, reverse image search shows that those are in fact an adult size and an adult model.



2. The dress once again, when I found the dress on Pinterest, I had already sorted out several dresses that I liked that first glance, but when I look at the description they said, teen or tween. It’s hard to tell right away it was certain styles there’s no model the dress is meant for what age I remember in my young adult hood when I was still dressing feminine and was a much smaller size. I sometimes found clothes at thrift stores. I thought were cute and would later find out they were meant for teens or twins, such as life.

2 Readers. Reader is 21+. Me personally I don’t put reader is 18+ in all my stories or my age gap stories, nor do I expect to see them when I read age gap stories in other peoples works, because I just assume everyone is an adult unless there’s some thing that tips me off against that, however, straight off the bat, the idea of being fucked in your childhood bedroomI feel like implies that she is one no longer a child and two doesn’t live there anymore. A couple chapters in, her and Joel are at her apartment and she was buying a new mattress having an apartment in itself implies at least 18 buying a new mattress is something you do in your 20s lol because no one was still in their name is gonna get excited about a mattress sale on Presidents’ Day. Then she was out drinking with Joel in a bar and yes, minors can get snuck into bars all the time I was a minor snuck into bars, however in this particular context, it just doesn’t make sense because Joel reader were already afraid of being seen together together. Joel wouldn’t want to add buying drinks for someone under 18 and taking them home after the bar to the list of worries and I know that in a lot of countries, the age of drinking can vary but in the US we’re both I live and where Joel fictionally lives the drinking age of 21, hence 21+ no none of the stuff I mentioned guarantees and reader but to me it’s coding in the same way that the people making accusations towards me are saying that reader is “coded“ as a child

3. Sex in the church. This was an afterthought in the person‘s post but I’ll address it anyway because they’re losing their mind that I mentioned having sex in a church for the context of the thick. Specifically, they had sex in a church bathroom, not in the actual sanctuary, or the pews, or anything however, for the record, I don’t got a problem with fanfiction having sex in a church because it’s not real. I would never actually have sex in a church, I try to go up to avoid going to a church as much as possible. The fanfiction isn’t real, it can’t hurt you

Lesson fucking learned, explicitly say reader is 18+ every time or someone is gonna accuse you of being a pedo

In the end, it’s not gonna change anyone’s minds. Because if you think that calling someone daddy, being hyper or liking to be babied, anything like that, makes you a pedophile, then I can’t really ration my way out of this.

However, I want to say thank you to everyone who reached out. A lot of blogs I’ve never interacted with a lot of friends, mutuals and on or blogs that I’ve followed on here for a year. Now I’ve reached out to me and offer their support which I really really appreciate and I cannot appreciate enough.

Hopefully I can still enjoy my cousins wedding this weekend and get my schoolwork done that I need to before going back to classes on Monday and that this doesn’t make more worse my already precarious mental health. But I’ve gotten so much love in so many kind words that it’s hard not to feel grateful for the amount of support I’ve gotten.

Between this and a minor hoopla about my pride even, I’m kinda sick of tumblr sometimes but y’all remind me of the good

Yes, you can re-blog, and if you wanna know who it is then ask someone else that’s fine I don’t really care that much. I just don’t want to be dog piling the person.

However, please report it. Because people are still sharing it, and commenting and liking especially about the shoe size

That’s it that’s my peace