#really enjoying this and i just know that the Conflict and Chaos that so marks the bear as a show is gonna start

[blackjack-15]

I KNEW NAT WAS PREGNANT i did not know she knew she was but i knew it!

RICHIE NO HONEY

"is that it?" *boink* "yeah" the bear is a comedy. full stop.

ebra you can do it baby i believe in you and i love you

and carmy's still cooking, still working. him and ebra.

oh syd's mum isn't there. she's not there is she she's dead or she's left or something

that was an Adorable story and i wanna see Syd imitate her mum who is definitely dead

oh candles. yeah. so why did she talk about her in the present tense to marcus? hiding it? hiding means there's prolly some trauma, and her mum wouldn't have been that old if she was the same age as her dad (he said they were both twenty when they started dating) so i'm gonna say sickness. might have been sudden, might have been prolonged, but sickness took her is my guess

"carm?" oh. i think i know who thiiiiiis issss

"claire. hi." yes, yes i did know who this is. that's not an enthusiastic reaction from carmy, but to be absolutely fair, he's rarely enthusiastic.

he is however very nervous here -- defensive posture, his face is red, tense jaw, etc. not sure these two were friends when they knew each other -- not saying they were enemies or anything, i'm just not getting the sense that they hung out much

mmm. based on this convo with syd and her dad? he's never been to The Beef in his LIFE. it would come up that they've closed down his Usual Sunday Place to do this if he had. adding that to the list of chekov's guns yet to be fired, and it's gonna be a friggin chekov's cannon ball depending on when that fuse is finally lit

"i have a partner!" "and you trust him" "yes!" gosh dangit. the subtext is text all right but like....conflict is coming

"i'm older than her now" oh land her mum died young then. and she does not believe her dad when he says she's just as wonderful as her mum was

i'm really hoping richie is gonna take a shower. that cannot be healthy

kay still talking with claire! great that doesn't make me nervous about this season at all!

"you wanted to fix [the broken arm]?" "i wanted to understand it" a very valid viewpoint, not knocking it.

but it does show the difference between them -- carmy, like in the party with the kids, like when he's checking in with richie and natalie and syd and tina, wants to help people, wants to fix stuff for them. claire wants to understand how things work -- two different approaches, two different foci.

oh. mm.

okay. okay. okay.

first off, carmy's "i should really listen to myself" about telling that kid not to become a chef? further proof if you ask me that carmy will end up stepping back from professional kitchens in some way

but

if someone so obviously does not want to be doing what they're doing -- if someone says they should not be a chef, for example, and then says that they're opening a restaurant? the first question most people would ask is: "why are you doing that then"

what claire says is "you're doing the thing!" which. i don't actually have words for that response. what in the brain-dead -- i don't care if that's what you remember of him from school or being kids or whatever, how on earth is that the response?

"because you're the bear. and i remember you." spit bucket please!

who the eff says that in a grocery store to someone holding frozen veal stock

he has absolutely no idea how to take that, wow.

in fact, yeah, i don't think carmy has any idea how to deal with personal attention like that, and he needs people to be fairly direct b/c he's sort of oblivious when it comes to how people think/act around him specifically -- he seems to understand People as a General Concept pretty well, just not as they relate to him -- which speaks to abominable self-esteem and i'm going to guess that when he says "i never had any girlfriends" it's not because a few girls (it was probably only two or three, especially being as Carmy as he is, but still) weren't interested in him, it's because he absolutely did not notice, God bless him and keep him

"i'll just get your contact information" oh here it issss here's the thing i know about

and they were so careful to have him recite his number earlier so we'd know what it is

"01....0....2." it's a VERY deliberate choice to give her the wrong number. this isn't a spur of the moment choice, he thought this through. and when she repeats it back and he has the chance to say "oh no 01 sorry", he just says "yup", no hesitation. they're emphasizing to the view that he's okay leaving it there, that this is done on purpose, that he's lying and that he knows he's lying

now there are a multitude of reasons for him doing this. if you think he does actually want contact with her, then it could be he doesn't believe she actually would want to talk to him, he doesn't have any idea how to handle her and is running, etc.

you could even say that this is classic Carmy repression -- he's not letting himself do something he wants to do because he's repressing the desire for it. that one's probably the strongest argument -- really the only valid argument -- on that side

but.

i think that the reason to have this in this episode specifically? is because he and syd have that conversation about the three-star call in this episode

remember what he says? first 10 seconds feels like a panic attack, b/c you know you'll have to keep it up. your brain skips any sort of joy or celebration, and settles instead on dread. that's carmy's experience with getting an honor few get in the culinary world, and it shows that he's actually not happy in being a Chef-with-a-capital-C. this episode fairly beats that into the viewer, honestly

i think it's the same thing here. he knows if he gives her his number that he'll have to keep it up. his brain skips any sort of happiness and settles on dread. and -- finally taking his own advice here, probably because he just mentioned he should take his own advice, carmy is quite introspective, he's just a little Blocked when it comes to his own emotions -- he decides that it's not worth it. the panic and the dread and the sheer effort it would take to maintain this is not worth it

this conversation is not shot like it's easy. carmy's leaning on the side of the freezer like he needs something to physically prop himself up. the lighting is great for claire, who's comfortable, but it washes carmy out, makes him look even more tired.

full disclosure, i don't know anything more than the fact that she goes behind his back (!!! i will have words!!) in the coming episodes sometime to get his real number, that's the extent of my knowledge.

but even without knowing that, watching this conversation? this isn't a full-fledged chekov's gun, this is at most a chekov's water pistol. she's gonna be here, but she's not gonna be omnipresent. her presence -- which i'm guessing will work largely as a distraction, pulling carmy away from The Bear, as well as being a Specter of the Past -- will cause conflict, rather than build a relationship. shot in the dark work, but given that we're shown how Carmy has a problem going all-or-nothing, and last season he went overboard on the "all" part of that, i'm guessing this season she'll be used to demonstrate the "nothing" part of his personality

which will cause problems and conflict, yes, and also provide an opportunity for the other chefs in the kitchen to grow into the roles they'll need to fill in carmy's eventual (permanent) exit from the kitchen. i get the feeling that the sign for "sorry" introduced here is gonna get quite a bit of airtime

this is long and rambly, but yeah! that's episode 2 -- two very relaxed season openers, i'll note -- we've got 8 to go, and i can feel the un-caged bear getting restless enough to start causing a ruckus....

[thatgirl4815]

Intimacy & Emotional Attachments (Ep5)

Andddd the next entry in this series: Ep5 marks some serious headway and some serious setbacks for the couples. Emotional and physical intimacy is challenged and put into question in ways we haven't seen before, sending us spiraling towards the first arc conflict (in keeping with what Khaotung said, we're definitely going to hit a lot of chaos next ep). Interestingly, I believe all three couples balance physical and emotional intimacy in vastly different ways.

RaySand

Ray and Sand take center stage this episode, specifically Sand, who is finally given the narrating voice. I could write a separate post on Sand alone, because I think his character traits offer a lot of insight into why he's grown so attached to Ray already (as others have pointed out, Ray is cheeky and flirtatious, but he's also a bit of a handful...despite Sand's complaints though, he seems to enjoy being at Ray's service). Personally, while Ray's approach has been questionable in the past (stalking Sand, bribing him to spend time with him, etc.), I personally don't think his behavior towards Sand can be considered a manipulation...at least, not in the way that Boston has manipulated Nick. I could speak more on the subject but that's my opinion, for now.

One thing I really like about Ray and Sand in terms of their growing bond--it's all in the quiet moments. Virtually all of RaySand's scenes have small acts of intimacy and crippling sweetness; they possess a natural banter. I would argue that TopMew, by comparison, are very straightforward. There's much less subtlety, and I think this is because Mew is making so much of an effort to keep everything controlled; it’s slightly mechanical.

I have to give it up for FK's acting here because so much of Ray and Sand’s relationship depends on their swift delivery. They play off of each other seamlessly to deliver electrifying chemistry. While we might have been robbed of Khao's tattoo (still bitter about that, tbh), the tension in that scene is simmering nonetheless.

It's become more and more apparent throughout these five episodes that Ray and Sand aren't built on just one thing. This is a matter of personal opinion, but I see Ray and Sand's relationship as encompassing a pretty reliable split between the physical and emotional aspects of intimacy; conversely, I'd argue that Top and Mew's relationship has focused on the emotional parts (mostly due to Mew's resistance to a sexual relationship with Top) and BostonNick's has focused on the physical parts (due to Boston's resistance to pursuing a romantic relationship with Nick). Once again, the goldilocks effect is kicking in: RaySand are solidly in the middle when it comes to balancing both physical and emotional intimacy.

Also of note--Ray and Sand talk about their personal lives onscreen, whereas we are left to imply many of the deeper conversations going on between Top and Mew (I don't think there are too many of those going on for Boston and Nick). Ray opens up about his mother's death in a way he didn't before, and I think that's one of the surest signs of how much he's growing to depend on Sand. From a storytelling standpoint, it's also important that Sand knows this, as it will likely inform his reactions to Ray going forward.

The greatest threat to RaySand's bond at this point are Ray's lingering feelings for Mew because they are so easily exploited by Boston. Boston is the enemy of RaySand this episode, certainly, but everything he says would not pack so much of a punch if not for Ray's reaction. He quickly gets physical, reaching for the liquor bottle as if on instinct. Ray has developed a bond with that liquor bottle that no one, not even Mew, has been able to match.

TopMew

This next bit is prompted by a discussion @abstractelysium and I had about Top and Mew's reactions to Boston and Ray, respectively, regarding consent. In Ep4, Mew automatically censured Ray for kissing him, while Top has repeatedly vocalized his discomfort with Boston's advances since the beginning, though it wasn't until last episode that we saw him really take a stand against Boston. Top is still something of an enigma when it comes to sex; it's used as "payment" of a sort from Mew, and we know that Top enjoys having many sexual encounters. (Some have suggested that Top has had some negative experiences with sex as well, potentially along the lines of SA, but I personally don't believe we can draw any conclusions as of yet.)

The way Top and Mew react to Boston and Ray in Ep4 is the interesting bit, because it reflects their beliefs regarding boundaries and morals. The show has used consent not only to make a point about it's importance, but also to highlight the traits of its characters. Mew's perspective is clear-cut and decisive--whether or not he personally felt violated is not the point; it's the act of being kissed while he was asleep that offends him.

Part of the reason why Mew has withheld sex from Top for so long is because in his mind, intimacy is delicate. Top views sex casually, independent of emotions, but Mew sees much more than that. The show has made a point of showing how sex, even casual sex, often comes to mean much more. For this reason, Mew's reaction to Ray is proof that intimacy--and sex, by extension--is something to be treated with extreme care.

What's also interesting is that Mew is willing to give Top limited intimacy as an exchange for something he wants. Is this indicating that he is already slipping into the same "game" that has a hold on Top and, perhaps even more strongly, Boston? Is Mew's high regard for sex the exact kind of weaponry that he can use to force Top into line? I'd argue that Mew has gradually been learning the rules of this "game" and it's one of the reasons why he takes the initiative to offer sex to Top so long as he promises to stop doing drugs. I still think Mew cherishes sex, but I do believe he sees its import in changing Top's behavior...so why wouldn't he exploit that?

In Ep5 we see him commit to sex with Top, but there's still an underlying tension to it. So far, Mew has seemed completely in control of his relationship with Top, but it's almost sad how vulnerable he acts on the phone with Boston. It's hard to determine what's genuine and what's all part of the game. Judging by his lovesick behavior this episode, I'm going to argue that whether or not he thinks it's "owed" to Top or not, he's finally giving some of his vulnerability over to Top. In my mind, that is what all of this boils down to: vulnerability. (I will agree with what others have said about the dinner scene though--there's something quite eery about it that I can't put my finger on.)

It's ironic that next episode is when things will presumably blow up between Top and Mew in some fashion. How sad will it be for Mew to have finally given himself over to Top, just to immediately realize that Top lied to him and cheated on him with one of his friends? The drama will be so juicy.

BostonNick

Nearly every character in this show lies, whether to hide their feelings or to manipulate other characters. Out of everyone though, Boston takes the cake. As an audience member, I have learned not to trust a single word he says (no matter how many times he bats his eyelashes at Nick).

Nick is trying so desperately to become what Boston wants, even if he doesn’t want to change himself. He realizes that, yet he doesn't stop. He left his self-worth at the door for Boston, because he craves affection, and—when Boston wants to—he's good at delivering it.

Boston tells Nick that he wants to settle down. But does he really? For my part, I don't think Boston could settle down if his life depended on it--he'd still find a way to manipulate his way into a) sleeping around and/or b) screwing up everybody else's relationships. When it comes to intimacy, I believe Boston enjoys sex for two reasons (one, more deep than the other):

It's just...good? He definitely enjoys it, otherwise he would've stopped a long time ago.

It's a way for him to wield power. He can manipulate others and put himself on a pedestal with just how many men want him (I choose to believe that Boston looks at himself in the mirror every night and congratulates himself on how perfect he is).

For this reason, I don't think Boston really knows what emotional intimacy is. He's a master of physical intimacy in terms of sex alone, but he hasn't come close to mastering its emotional elements--mostly because he hasn't even tried. He tells Nick that he wants to try settling down, but how much of that is genuine, and how much of that is because he's still butthurt over Top's rejection?

For now, Boston's relationship to intimacy seems to revolve around stringing Nick along and ruining everyone else's chances at forming intimate bonds. It's another power play. If Boston isn't literally screwing them, he's busy thinking of ways to screw them over.

~ X ~

Ep 5 was a rough one for my heart to handle. All of Ray and Sand's happy moments were overshadowed by the ending scene, TopMew's scenes were overshadowed by Top's lies, and BostonNick's scenes were overshadowed by Boston's assholery. I expect next episode will throw everything into complete chaos.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Multiverse of Madness

I am an unapologetic Adventure Time apologist. i think it was one of the greatest shows ever created and deserves all the love it gets. AT saved Cartoon Network back in the day and spawned so many creators who would, in turn, leave their mark on the industry. Without AT, there is no Steven Universe or that other one with the fighting i guess? The influence of Adventure Time gave credence to the potential popularity of shows like nuShe-Ra and nuVoltron. Those characters are iconic and full of so much depth. Finn Mertens, Jake the Dog, Bonnibel Bubblegum; All of them have become stalwarts of cartoon history. Like, Marceline Abadeer is one of my all-time favorite characters in fiction. When Distant Lands aired, i was emotionally devastated. Obviously, Obsidian was mys sh*t but Together Again brought me to tears. That's how much this show meant to me, so when Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake was announced, i was all over it. I was mad curious how this would play out. Would it be just a romp through a gender-swapped Ooo? Would the target audience still be kids or would the show be a more mature take since the original kids were now wayward adults? So many questions. Well, Fionna and Cake is over and i have thoughts.

First thing first, This show is not about Fionna and Cake. It is on a superficial level but they're more a plot device who participates in the narrative. Fionna and Cake is about Simon Petrikov coming to terms with the loss of Betty Groff and how his relationship with her, was toxic as f*ck. Like, holy sh*t, was it bad! The co-dependency was insane! I mean, you got glimpses of that throughout Betty's arc in the original AT (Betty literally leaping through a Hambo powered time rift, her problematic Magic Woman phase, and the eventual wish that turned her into f*cking GolBetty, all for her "love" of Simon) but this chick was as obsessed with Simon as Simon was with her. When she transcended and become a deity of pure chaos, Simon was left in a depression spiral that, ultimately, shook the core of the goddamn multiverse. And i say that with no hyperbole. F*cking Ice King, put the entire multiverse of Adventure Time in jeopardy, because he missed his boo. What follows is, one of the most well thought out and executed romps through a multiverse narrative I've seen outside of f*cking comic books. I don't want to spoil anything but the first nine episodes of this show are brilliant, rivaling the very best Adventure Time has to offer. The tenth? Not so much.

Fionna and Cake definitely botches the landing, especially coming off such incredibly strong episodes as the three right before it. Again, no details, but, holy sh*t, were those three episodes great. Seriously, watch this show, it's f*cking fantastic. The Simon stuff is definitely the heart of this narrative but what about the show's namesake? The Fionna and Cake bits are good but i never really felt as invested in their story as i was in Simon's trials. It's not like their stuff was bad, per sey, it just didn't feel as... dire? I don't know, i felt more for the characters around them than i did the characters themselves? Don't misunderstand me, i enjoyed their arc. Fionna and Cake struggling with their own identities and coming to terms with who they are was cool and all but, ultimately, it felt more sub than main plot, which is weird because it's their show. Fionna and Cake are basically the inciting action which informs the entire plot but i never really feel like that's a thing. Plus, there is this very important aspect to their character which, kind of never really plays into the overarching conflict, with the exception of a particularly gruesome scene, and i feel like that was a missed opportunity. As an overall production and viewing experience, Fionna and Cake is f*cking exquisite.

The stuff i said about Fionna and Cake is true, to an extent. True for me, i guess. People may get more out of their arc than i did, which is fine, that's a point subjectivity. What isn't subjective is how well this show is produced. Seriously, the art style is familiar, yet, more detailed. The characters are well performed, each true to their own personality beats. But it was the worlds we visited that truly hammered home the butterfly effect, the effect Simon had, on all of those worlds. I loved every second of that experience and, while they didn't fully stick the landing, there were great aspects of that tenth episode. Fionna and Cake turned out to be ten episodes of solid, adult, Adventure Time narrative that felt organic. It didn't feel like a cashgrab or desperate attempt at Max to pull in viewers. It felt like, after the absolutely brilliant reception to Distant Lands, that HBO understood there was a market for a show like that and they just let the staff create. Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake isn't perfect, it's definitely got it's flaws, but of the content I've seen this year, it's easily some of the best. Whether you're a fan of the old world of Ooo, or just interested in what "adult" animation has to offer, this show is one of the best examples of the art form. It was a strong watch and i definitely recommend a viewing.

[mama-qwerty]

What if we were to... you know... introduce Silver and Eclipse to Minecraft multiplayer?

Would chaos in what they want to do ensue? I can certainly imagine Eclipse going medieval and making a village his slaves and Silver trying to protect them and it conflicts hilariously XD.

It would not go well. I'm gonna use the Switch version because that's the one I'm familiar with.

~~~~~

Callie sipped her coffee, enjoying the quiet. Normally a silence like this would have been unnerving--what with two boys in the house, one of whom is more gremlin than anything--but today it was welcome.

She sat at the kitchen table, lazily scrolling through her phone. The two boys in question were in the living room, playing their new Switch game together. The occasional soft comment came to her ears as they chatted together, but other than that, they'd been mostly quiet like that for over an hour.

It was time for Murphy's Law to take effect.

"This is boring." Eclipse's tone was annoyed, and came as close to a whine as he was capable. "Let's go back into that cave."

"No, there are spiders and zombies in there and I want to keep working on my farm."

"Your farm is fine! Let the villagers take care of it."

"I like taking care of it myself." Silver, bless his heart, was still calm and controlled. His brother had a talent for getting him upset, but today it didn't seem like Silver was taking the bait. "Look at all the crops! I need them to feed my animals."

"You don't have to feed all your stupid animals, they're not really gonna die, you know."

"Go by yourself. You don't need me with you."

"You're better at marking the path so we don't get lost."

"Too bad. Maybe you should learn to do it yourself."

Eclipse uttered an annoyed grunt, and Callie could picture him gritting his sharp teeth. "Just leave your stupid farm and your stupid animals and come with me!"

"No!"

Callie sighed, and wondered if she should get involved. Maddie had told her that it was important for siblings to figure out problems on their own, to find their own dynamic and deal with issues. She supposed that made sense, and she tried to let her boys figure it out, but she was also a big supporter of things like quiet and not having her house destroyed.

Two things that were in woeful short supply with two super powered alien children.

But, since Maddie had a sister and three super powered alien children, Callie supposed she knew what she was talking about. So she monitored the situation from her seat in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Silver asked, and his voice hovered in that space between calm and upset. "It's getting dark, we need to go in and sleep."

"No."

"C'mon, Eclipse. If you stay out after dark the mobs will come out."

"I don't care. I wanna fight something."

"You've only got a wooden axe!"

"Then maybe we should have gone into that cave to find iron!"

"We didn't need to find iron!" Silver's voice was going higher, and indication he was getting more upset. "We were working on our farm!"

"I don't want to work on the farm anymore! I want to fight monsters!"

"LOOK OUT!"

The familiar hiss of a creeper preceded an explosion, which was followed by the loud shriek of a gray hedgehog.

"MY FARM!"

"Whoops."

"YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!"

"MAYBE NOW YOU'LL GO INTO THE CAVE WITH ME!"

The next sound was a loud thud as two little bodies hit the floor, accompanied by growls and arguing.

Callie gave a little sigh, before putting down her coffee cup, and heading into the living room to referee.

[smokeybrand]

Multiverse of Madness

I am an unapologetic Adventure Time apologist. i think it was one of the greatest shows ever created and deserves all the love it gets. AT saved Cartoon Network back in the day and spawned so many creators who would, in turn, leave their mark on the industry. Without AT, there is no Steven Universe or that other one with the fighting i guess? The influence of Adventure Time gave credence to the potential popularity of shows like nuShe-Ra and nuVoltron. Those characters are iconic and full of so much depth. Finn Mertens, Jake the Dog, Bonnibel Bubblegum; All of them have become stalwarts of cartoon history. Like, Marceline Abadeer is one of my all-time favorite characters in fiction. When Distant Lands aired, i was emotionally devastated. Obviously, Obsidian was mys sh*t but Together Again brought me to tears. That's how much this show meant to me, so when Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake was announced, i was all over it. I was mad curious how this would play out. Would it be just a romp through a gender-swapped Ooo? Would the target audience still be kids or would the show be a more mature take since the original kids were now wayward adults? So many questions. Well, Fionna and Cake is over and i have thoughts.

First thing first, This show is not about Fionna and Cake. It is on a superficial level but they're more a plot device who participates in the narrative. Fionna and Cake is about Simon Petrikov coming to terms with the loss of Betty Groff and how his relationship with her, was toxic as f*ck. Like, holy sh*t, was it bad! The co-dependency was insane! I mean, you got glimpses of that throughout Betty's arc in the original AT (Betty literally leaping through a Hambo powered time rift, her problematic Magic Woman phase, and the eventual wish that turned her into f*cking GolBetty, all for her "love" of Simon) but this chick was as obsessed with Simon as Simon was with her. When she transcended and become a deity of pure chaos, Simon was left in a depression spiral that, ultimately, shook the core of the goddamn multiverse. And i say that with no hyperbole. F*cking Ice King, put the entire multiverse of Adventure Time in jeopardy, because he missed his boo. What follows is, one of the most well thought out and executed romps through a multiverse narrative I've seen outside of f*cking comic books. I don't want to spoil anything but the first nine episodes of this show are brilliant, rivaling the very best Adventure Time has to offer. The tenth? Not so much.

Fionna and Cake definitely botches the landing, especially coming off such incredibly strong episodes as the three right before it. Again, no details, but, holy sh*t, were those three episodes great. Seriously, watch this show, it's f*cking fantastic. The Simon stuff is definitely the heart of this narrative but what about the show's namesake? The Fionna and Cake bits are good but i never really felt as invested in their story as i was in Simon's trials. It's not like their stuff was bad, per sey, it just didn't feel as... dire? I don't know, i felt more for the characters around them than i did the characters themselves? Don't misunderstand me, i enjoyed their arc. Fionna and Cake struggling with their own identities and coming to terms with who they are was cool and all but, ultimately, it felt more sub than main plot, which is weird because it's their show. Fionna and Cake are basically the inciting action which informs the entire plot but i never really feel like that's a thing. Plus, there is this very important aspect to their character which, kind of never really plays into the overarching conflict, with the exception of a particularly gruesome scene, and i feel like that was a missed opportunity. As an overall production and viewing experience, Fionna and Cake is f*cking exquisite.

The stuff i said about Fionna and Cake is true, to an extent. True for me, i guess. People may get more out of their arc than i did, which is fine, that's a point subjectivity. What isn't subjective is how well this show is produced. Seriously, the art style is familiar, yet, more detailed. The characters are well performed, each true to their own personality beats. But it was the worlds we visited that truly hammered home the butterfly effect, the effect Simon had, on all of those worlds. I loved every second of that experience and, while they didn't fully stick the landing, there were great aspects of that tenth episode. Fionna and Cake turned out to be ten episodes of solid, adult, Adventure Time narrative that felt organic. It didn't feel like a cashgrab or desperate attempt at Max to pull in viewers. It felt like, after the absolutely brilliant reception to Distant Lands, that HBO understood there was a market for a show like that and they just let the staff create. Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake isn't perfect, it's definitely got it's flaws, but of the content I've seen this year, it's easily some of the best. Whether you're a fan of the old world of Ooo, or just interested in what "adult" animation has to offer, this show is one of the best examples of the art form. It was a strong watch and i definitely recommend a viewing.

[crystalelemental]

"megazardx2: Oh, so you do know and you don’t like it! I actually kind of did…Guess that tracks! I was hoping things would turn out a bit different this time, but whatevs; let’s just go with the expected route! And Welp, Kieran’s plot continues into The Indigo Disk, so I hope you enjoy disliking that part, too! I’m rather salty."

Salty about the DLC, or salty I don't seem to like it? Either way, fair. There are some aspects I enjoy, but most of it kinda missed its mark. I expect Indigo Disk will do better, since it allegedly connects more to Area Zero which was the strength of this game, but we'll see.

As for the story...if you want more, it's under the cut. But I know this is going to be a point of disagreement, so it might just be fuel on the fire.

I can already tell people are going to really like Kieran. My wife really likes him. I don't hate him, but I'm not having the same response I know others are.

I do get it, I swear I get it. Day 1, your sister, who is abrasive but genuinely seems to care about you, sets you up to spend time with the new player you took a connection to, and it's super exciting! You don't make friends well and you're super excited to have this little adventure and this connection where maybe they even indicate they understand your way of thinking! And then day 2 said sister pulls you aside and suddenly they're going around without you on some adventure. And they don't tell you about having met the ogre, and they don't tell you about the story your grandfather told you about, and this person you thought you connected with now suddenly seems really emotionally far from you and you don't really understand why. And that hurts and it sucks and you're mad at them for seemingly turning on you, and you're mad at your sister for shifting on a dime from setting you up with this person to suddenly taking them for herself, and you're mad at your grandfather for not telling you the truth about the ogre that you liked. I get it. I get why you're mad, I swear I do.

Being mad at me (player character) is unreasonable. Kieran, buddy, I'm sorry you latched onto the idea that we were super best friends forever deluxe, but I have known you a total of less than 24 hours. I was asked, by your grandfather, not to spread this story, because of the chaos it could cause socially if we tried. I am an outsider. I have no stake in any of this. If I am told "it is bad for our village if we try to tell people this," I am going to then not tell anyone. Even you, person I have a budding friendship with but not any long-lasting reason to be willing to defy such a request for.

If I'm being especially critical, it's the issue the whole game has of not really wanting to engage with what exactly its characters dealt with. "They were bullied/were outcasts" is a nice broad sentiment to evoke sympathy, but I have zero context for what that looks like. What I do have context for is Team Star grunts talking about a quota for strong-arming other students into dropping out and joining them even all this time later, and Kieran being very quick to jump to the conclusion that I'm being mean to him for lying when I don't immediately break my promise for him.

I know there's a lot of feelings wrapped up in that. I know there's a history here we aren't going to be privy to. But in absence of it, he comes across as needlessly harsh toward you, in a way that's like...buddy, maybe this is why it's hard to make friends? Maybe you're putting too much expectation on them right away, and get really mad when they're not instantly all-in on your level of friendship devotion? Which is fascinating as a character study! That's really interesting and well-crafted, and I like him in that regard! But I sure don't really like him as a person right now!

Which is probably why I'm so conflicted about the Ogerpon thing. Like yeah, he really identified with the ogre, and you can feel the connection to it as a concept. So on the one hand, it feels almost malicious that all of this ends in beating his ass in a battle then catching it in front of him. But on the other hand, his knowledge of the ogre was wrong, and how much of that connection would actually go well if he's this harsh toward his friend for not sticking to him only. So there is, I suppose like usual, a reason for him not getting it. But it also feels a lot harsher this time than most others. Zinnia-esque, I would say. That's the only other time I can think of where they're so attached to the specific legend, and so ingrained in the culture of it, but it goes to someone completely outside of this culture for little reason other than "is main character."

At this point I'm mostly just rambling. The short is, I don't hate the kid, and I'm fine with him coming back for Indigo Disk if they're continuing development, because there's potential here. My response is just a lot harsher on the kid than I know others will have.

[tessiete]

HI TESS🥹🫶 3,7,13,35,57 for the ask pls?

HI @lightasthesun THANK YOU FOR ALL THESE! They're so interesting! I love pulling things apart and looking at all the mechanics, so thank you for inviting me to do so! SO MUCH LOVE TO YOU, AND I HOPE YOU'RE ENJOYING THE LAST RAYS OF AUGUST!

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Okay! See, these questions get me so excited because I *love* process. It's taken me absolutely forever to figure out what mine is, and honestly, it's not always consistent, but in general:

If I'm writing a one-shot, I decide on the theme. The idea that I want to explore in the chapter. For example, I had to write a story based on the prompt "I wonder what's inside your butthole" (the song. It was the Spotify Top 100 challenge. Yes, that song was in my top 100. #69, I think. Of course)

So, early on, I decided that the closest thing to a butthole in SW was the sarlacc pit. It also has a bunch of stuff inside it. And what do we know about the sarlacc? You will be digested over the course of a thousand years.

So, I thought this fic should be about the passage of time, immortality, and the things you miss.

Then, I go to someone's inbox (usually @treescape or @pomiardve) and spam them with a summary of what I intend to write with all the important beats.

Then, a couple days later, I go to the Google docs and I write it out as I remember it. Generally, I don't refer to my summary. That just helps me mark it out to make sure it makes sense.

For longer fics, I do generally the same thing, but I'll refer back to the larger skeleton so that I can keep the events trekking in sort of the same direction.

Whatever I'm writing, I think "What am I trying to say with this story? What is my perspective?"

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

I choose the perspective of the character who learns the most. Whose growth is the story focused on?

If it's a multi-chapter story, I consider who learns The Thing in each chapter, and who I specifically do not want to let the reader in the head of.

For example, so much of Only Hope relies on the fact that Obi-Wan cannot, for the life of him, be objective about Qui-Gon. This actively influences the way I frame Qui-Gon's actions in Obi-Wan chapters (ex. Obi-Wan tends to only notice physical affection in passing, and never in explicit interior thoughts, and gives absolutely no weight to mentions of care -- I can think of one instance where Satine mentions Qui-Gon was tired because he stayed up all night waiting for Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan assumes it's because he inconvenienced his master, whereas the reader is meant to see between the lines that Qui-Gon was worried).

It would have given the whole of the game, and much of Obi-Wan's growth away if I'd ever given Qui-Gon a POV chapter.

13. What’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

I think, actually, in these past couple years I've thrown out all the common advice I've been told. It just clogs things up for me.

But the one thing I *really* do try to do, which is very common screenwriting advice is to make each scene accomplish at least two things at a time.

IE. A scene should advance the plot AND explore character. Or create conflict AND interrogate theme.

This, I find, is super helpful in allowing you to do a lot of interior work while keeping the pace up. Makes everything more likely to be integral to the story.

35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?

Ohh, the same thing I remember when playing one: The villain is the hero of their own story. They think they're justified. Why? Whatever it is, they want it just as much as the hero does. 

Even if it's something as simple as them wanting to cause chaos -- they are DEEPLY convinced they deserve to cause that chaos. It is justified to them.

57. Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished? 

Um, lol I do not edit at any point. I generally post it as it comes out of my head. Occasionally, I will go back into posted works and change a couple things here and there. More rarely, I'll change significant things.

Typos I usually catch (if I *do* catch them) as soon as I hit post on AO3!

[helloquotemyfoot]

Book Backlog Busting Reading Challenge

Update two: electric boogaloo. I have finished five books since my last appearance! Yes some of them I read through so fast I didn't get the chance to mention them in the last post. This is how I get into trouble. So let's start with those ones first.

The Appeal by Janice Hallett. FINISHED. This was a fun and easy read in the epistolary style (the entire book is told through text messages, emails, and other documentation). Epistolary is always fun to read and the particular style of this book gave the feeling of snooping on the neighbours and getting all the hot goss without the guilt of intruding on other peoples' lives. As a mystery though, it was only "okay". The framing device is two junior lawyers doing unbiased analysis of the case for their boss in order to (he thinks) get an innocent person out of prison. But you aren't told who this party is until the last third of the book. The murder victim themselves isn't confirmed until halfway through the book. A crucial fact that you NEED to know in order to guess at the motive of the person who actually did it (which is very convoluted but anyway) is only revealed at the 1/3 mark and in order to use that fact to guess at the murder motive you would need to carefully re-read 250 pages, not JUST the specific emails you are actually directed to. This is not only unrealistic but is just not a good use of the format of a book like this. Worth reading, but I would borrow rather than buy for sure.

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. FINISHED. I first read this book about a decade ago and really didn't enjoy it but decided to give it another chance after embarking on a Jane Austen re-read-athon last year. It's certainly better than I remembered, but you can tell it's one of Austen's earlier novels. The two actual relationships of the book are built up entirely by telling, not showing, leaving me much more on board with Elinor/Colonel Brandon than any other relationship in the novel. Apart from the absurdity of Mr and Mrs John Dashwood, I also really missed Austen's signature wit. I suspect the intention was for Marianne's dramas to be inherently satirical, but instead they were just annoying. Maybe some of her friends bothered her about how it should have been Elinor and Brandon who got together, because in Austen's other works she is very careful that the central couple be seen interacting. Genuinely still baffled at the construction of this book honestly.

And the other books I DID tell you about!

Lord of Chaos by Robert Jordan (Wheel of Time #6). FINISHED. You can see the size of the books and number of subplots is starting to get away from Jordan a bit here, as Nynaeve and Elayne end up having a plot line that entirely consists of "fuck around until we can go to Ebou Dar", but it's not to the point where the story was too bogged down by it. Jordan's idea of normal marital conflict is really annoying however and well worth prolonging the resolution of all the romantic arcs. I loved Perrin/Faile in previous books but not in this one, my god.

First Contact: the Cult of Progress by David Olusoga. FINISHED. Due to the size of the book I didn't realise how actually short it was, only about 300 pages. I could have finished this ages ago! It was a fun and interesting read, but necessarily limited in scope by the size. I think Olusoga is better when he's given room to roam and draw connections, but it was nice seeing the pretty reproduced artworks.

The War on Heresy by R I Moore. FINISHED. Oh boy, I was excited when the author promised his was a controversial conclusion and I wasn't disappointed. Moore argues, convincingly and cogently, that the "Cathar" heretics of popular history, and indeed academic history, did not really exist and were entirely a construction of the church establishment, all the "heresies" a product of the centralising and reforming church mission and how that interacted with local traditions, the Languedoc being distinguished only by the fact that centralisation had not penetrated there yet and it therefore looked more backwards in comparison to the rest of Europe. Any formal "Cathar heresy" was only established because of this persecution, creating new meaning in continued association with "the good men". The whole book is very interesting and the argument well done, and I lament by no buying rule because the further reading looks delicious. Will certainly return to this book again in the future!

As for my up nexts, I have a few on the go as well as the next Wheel of Time waiting in the wings.

Femina by Janina Ramirez. Promising a medieval history centred on women. I have been wanting this book for ages and waiting for the cheaper paperback to come out.

Notes from the Burning Age by Claire North. Started on a whim because I wasn't quite ready to dive back into Wheel of Time, it's so far an interesting mic of post-apoc dystopia, solarpunk, and fantasy. The climate change agenda has all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, which is exactly how I like my climate change agendas and exactly the level of subtlety which the subject needs.

A Crown of Swords by Robert Jordan (Wheel of Time #7). Much shorter than the last few, by which I mean it's less than 800 pages altogether.

Meetings With Manuscripts by Christopher de Hamel. My chonky history book of choice for a while. What could be more joyful to someone who loves history and books than reading about old books? And look at it! It's so pretty!

104 books remaining!

[toomanytookas]

Moth, the way you write yearning and feelings of abandonment and loss and forgiveness here has me crying in the streets.

Literally. 😂 I already told you that this snuck up on me on my walk, but I'm not sure I can convey how deeply it's sat on my chest since I read it? Something about the tenderness of the reader's crush and the harsh feeling of not just being left behind but for that to be a very acute form of rejection is just so ugly and real in the most gorgeous way and it pairs so well with the horror and anguish and grief that the outbreak wrought... not to mention the healing that these two end up finding in each other.

I loved how you captured the pain of her yearning, these two lines in particular stole my breath:

✨You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts. ✨ It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

And the fact that this is such a fascinating examination of Joel's relationship with Sarah, too, really hit deep. This was... devastating:

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

Particularly in the context of thinking about what Joel becomes after he loses her, and what it means for him to see what could have been in the reader when they reunite. This was torture of the highest order: You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You have captured his guilt and self-flagellation so well, and it really makes for such a compelling portrait of him and what his relationship with the reader signals in terms of him being able to forgive a part of himself and find new drive/purpose/meaning for his life in the shape of the reader as he continues to not quite be able to find that within himself, for himself.

I do love the moments of reprieve that we see, these in particular:

✨ He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment.  ✨ He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

I really enjoyed the mix of resolution and unresolution that we get at the end. On the one hand, there is a completeness, a feeling that we are seeing them in their final form together, finding comfort and understanding, and yet on the other, there is this: Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

The way you've navigated that trickiness and leave us feeling satisfied with everything that it is and isn't is really excellent. I think it matches really well with the difficult nature of their relationship's beginnings as well as the hurt that, though lessened, still has left its mark (that "he's finally come back for you" is something else). That they are able to find that space that's just for the two of them outside of everything is perhaps the best ending we could ask for. Thank you! <3

HAHHAHA I LITERALLY ALMOST JUST SIGNED THIS LIKE AN EMAIL AND WROTE 'BEST WISHES, M' I've really been writing too many apartment inquiries. 😂

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you. 

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller. 

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely. 

Her words still ring in your ears. 

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life. 

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said. 

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you. 

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart. 

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder. 

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says. 

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask. 

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room. 

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid. 

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you. 

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now. 

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say. 

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say. 

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh. 

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles. 

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. 

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there. 

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time. 

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face. 

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy. 

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen. 

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself. 

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze. 

“Mercy?” Sarah asks. 

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass. 

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air. 

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.  

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her. 

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around. 

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.” 

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night. 

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller. 

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away. 

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.  

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands. 

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor. 

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps. 

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something. 

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies. 

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral. 

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break. 

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster. 

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk. 

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground. 

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence. 

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you. 

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged. 

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete. 

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her. 

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet. 

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill. 

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway. 

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers. 

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says. 

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her. 

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle. 

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck. 

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away. 

You wait for a long time. 

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now. 

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes. 

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine. 

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare. 

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you. 

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family. 

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope. 

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning. 

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday. 

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt. 

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you. 

He left you to die but you just go on living.  

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night. 

You’re on your own. 

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone. 

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her. 

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead. 

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head. 

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk. 

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north. 

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival. 

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you. 

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal. 

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.  

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven. 

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached. 

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall. 

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table. 

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home. 

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you. 

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright. 

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage. 

“That really you?” he asks. 

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.  

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope. 

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife? 

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner. 

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller. 

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up. 

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become. 

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up. 

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel. 

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival. 

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago. 

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath. 

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall. 

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened. 

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. 

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes. 

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says. 

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you. 

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious. 

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself. 

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder. 

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark. 

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back. 

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say. 

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing. 

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall. 

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel. 

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today. 

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine. 

“You okay?” Ellie asks. 

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much. 

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall. 

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers. 

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken. 

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says. 

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out. 

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache. 

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted. 

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you. 

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded. 

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves. 

“Want some company?” you ask. 

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in. 

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Surprised you remember,” he says. 

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.” 

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living. 

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down. 

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.” 

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him. 

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says. 

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says. 

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear. 

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him. 

A thick knot forms in his throat. 

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment. 

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch. 

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end. 

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out. 

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky. 

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect. 

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask. 

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains. 

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since. 

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes. 

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile. 

“How’s she look?” you ask. 

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods. 

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair. 

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library. 

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor. 

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all. 

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”. 

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved. 

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly. 

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.  

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink. 

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy. 

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze. 

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing. 

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.  

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet. 

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago. 

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek. 

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours. 

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it. 

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say. 

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went. 

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night. 

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.   

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning. 

And then you kissed him. 

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing. 

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone. 

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you. 

That’s when he heard it. 

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong. 

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you. 

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again. 

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself. 

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you. 

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you. 

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon. 

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth. 

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table. 

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.  

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs. 

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says. 

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply. 

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says. 

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life. 

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.  

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.   

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there. 

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips. 

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open. 

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers. 

“Stay,” you murmur. 

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back. 

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?  

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress. 

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well. 

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further. 

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could. 

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.  

After a while, though, it happens. 

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them. 

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light. 

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment. 

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him. 

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper. 

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever. 

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want. 

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul. 

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass. 

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him. 

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him. 

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply. 

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this. 

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories. 

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before. 

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back. 

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.  

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?” 

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft. 

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself. 

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all. 

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart. 

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection. 

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you. 

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

[spacexseven]

Even if not a lot of people appreciate fitz as much as you if you want to write about him I definitely support it, while he isn't the first person I'd simp for I definitely see the appeal, I mean what's not attractive about a capitalist going on a coupon arc lmao.

Buuuut now imagine that same capitalist as the sort of 'leader' of a guild harem, if you will. He's the leader of the guild after all, so it makes sense he'd play a similar role when it comes to the guild's shared s/o. Well, "shared", it's definitely going to be difficult agreeing on things at the start.

You probably start out as someone just dating one of the guild members. Whether they wanted to hide you and keep you all to themselves or have been gushing about how wonderful you are to the others, eventually the rest of the guild finds out. And once they've gotten even the briefest of chances to meet you, they can't get enough. Soon enough, your original partner is barely getting any time with you because you're so busy with the rest of the group.

Maybe Mark is trying to show off just how good of a marksman he is, Louisa wants your opinion on what the best strategy for a successful date totally not with you is, or you've even got Lovecraft being... Romantic? In his own way, nobody's quite sure what he's trying to do but it's clear that, like all the others, he's developed an interest in you that is only growing stronger every day.

Naturally, conflict breaks out as they all struggle to get your attention. Quieter admirers like Louisa and Poe may feel they can't keep up with their more boisterous colleagues, so they start obsessing over how they can use their wits to get you alone and finally speak to you, or at least, stammer out a few compliments before they get overwhelmed. Meanwhile, more demanding figures like John and Mark are constantly butting heads, bickering right in front of you with no shame as they repeatedly beg you to just say who's your favourite, who do you love more, who will you choose - it better be one of them.

That's when Fitzgerald steps in to calm everyone down, if only because he's also struggling to win you over in the midst of all this chaos. Sure, he's doing this for his own gain, but he still wants his subordinates to be happy, so he'll make it his goal to get you to treat them as equally as possible. Besides, there's still a part of him that hopes you'll inevitably choose to only be with him over anyone else.

And after all the stress you've surely been under having so many powerful, probably mentally unstable figures vying for your attention, you just won't be able to help but be thankful to the man. You'll trust Fitzgerald, a trust that will be shared by the rest of the guild members. They know that he'll provide them all with a fair chance to win you over, and if he doesn't, even with his ability there's no way he'd be able to fight off all of them at once, so they don't feel much need to be wary of him right now.

- bestie (enjoy mr fitz enthusiast)

i'm seriously going to cry this is the best thing ever!!! you really are my bestie

i'm not sure if i want to involve margaret and hawthorne here (yet) so for now they're not here. also i believe the guild member you're likely to meet first is twain! the rest just strike me as too uninterested in things outside of work. fitz isn't married here ok!!!! let me indulge myself

this is guild x reader but with an emphasis on fitz x reader

cw yandere characters, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, jealousy, stalking, implied breaking in

so being friends with twain is fun and all, and while you know he's part of some organization, you aren't aware of the ability users in it and how dangerous they all are until much later. the thing you don't know is that he's been telling everyone about his super cute s/o, avoiding pictures of you, but happily gloating about how perfect his relationship is. as much as he gets jealous, he can't help but want to show off a little.

he brings you to their hq one day while you're out together, maybe because he's been asked to stop by immediately to pick up something. twain tells you to wait outside while he goes in to talk to mr fitz—he doesn't think he needs to be careful here yet, he doesn't think any of his coworkers would find an interest in you.

of course, fitzgerald notices you outside and asks twain to bring you in, saying it would be rude to leave you on your own in an unfamiliar place especially since he's intruding on your time together, but that's really all bullshit. he just wants a closer look at you. fitz has a close eye on his employees, and he's already known about you for a while, even using the eyes of god to track you down whenever he finds himself wanting to see you. sure, it's not love, at least, not yet—he'd call it more of...his best interests to make sure you're not a spy sent to infiltrate them. definitely not because he thinks you look cute when you're strolling down the street. maybe it was a bit weird that whenever he saw you pick out something you really like, only for your face to fall when you see the price, he instantly makes a note to buy it for you. that wasn't how he was supposed to be treating potential spies.

seeing you impressed by his office and by his presence, something inside you already aware of how important this man must be, only made his grin widen. you better stop being so cute, or else, he might just have to steal you away from twain himself. twain notices how closely his boss is eyeing you and instantly regrets bringing you along. the two of you weren't dating yet, despite all his stories to others. at this point, anyone could sweep you away. his fear only grows when the older man grabs your hand and proclaims that he would be delighted to show you around the building and enlighten you on their mission. out of everyone, of course fitzgerald would be interested in you. the man wanted everything.

it just so happens that a lot more of the guild members pop in during this time. louisa, with the plans she had been working on for mr fitz in hand, poe, with yet another successful mission report, steinbeck and lovecraft coming to see why everyone seemed to be gathered there.

and they all see you, with twain's arm around your waist and fitzgerald's hand grasping your own, stopped in the middle of his charming speech.

apart from the fact that you were a stark contrast to the rest of fitzgerald's office, something about the way you were standing in between two key members of the guild struck them all.

twain clears his throat and begins to bring you away from the room, only to be interrupted by a barrage of questions from the others. questions about who you were and why twain was holding onto you like that, but one line that struck out most to you was a comment by steinbeck.

"i thought he was lying about his partner!"

"oh," you chuckle, "we're not...like that."

for a minute the room goes eerily silent before a huge sigh of relief seemed to break it. from behind you, fitzgerald laughs heartily, pleased to have his suspicions confirmed. twain had been deluding himself the whole time, thinking the two of you were dating.

"i had a feeling twain here couldn't possibly win over someone as darling as you," he smirks, "in that case, you should come for dinner with me sometime."

you shake your head nervously, feeling overwhelmed by the change of atmosphere. it was only fitzgerald who made such a request but...something about it felt off. something told you it wasn't much of a request as it was an order.

obviously, you reject and go on with twain, still confused by why he would make up such a lie. he placates you with an excuse you're not sure you believe, but choose to stop asking questions about once he stares at you coldly. you've never known him to be so harsh.

after that, things seem to resume to normal. you don't check out the guild again for a long time, but it becomes almost normal to see the members outside of it. steinbeck stops by twain's room way too often, greeting you with a hello before taking up all your time by talking to you about everything and anything. you get a letter in the mail that twain begs you not to open despite it being sent by his friend, poe. when you go for a picnic by a lake, lovecraft walks out and joins the two of you, silent as ever. louisa waves at you from across the floor in the grocery store, though you note she looks very uncomfortable. when you go to join her, you see stacks of paper and tea in her cart.

the most shocking incident is when you walk into a boutique after glancing at something from outside, only to be greeted by fitzgerald, who had just happened to buy the company and offers you everything inside for free. you say no again, but his smile doesn't drop.

what really convinces you to take him up on his offer is when you wake up one morning to find a cup of tea and a book on your table. neither of which you had in your home, but you knew where you had seen that cup and you recognized the author on the book. when you glance out the window, something about the trees outside and the lake a little while away sends shivers down your spine. despite tom and finn appearing out of nowhere to convince you otherwise, you find yourself reaching around for that card fitzgerald gave you, keying in the numbers he scrawled on top of the printed design.

[rebeccccccaaa]

ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ

_________________________________

ғʀᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏ!sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you and steve hooked up once and neither of you can forget that night

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: smut 18+ minors dni plz, kinda rough? but of course major fluffy aftercare from soft boi stevie, bit of inexperienced reader and insecure reader

(accidentally written unprotected sex but this is fanfiction lmao plz be safe irl)

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: ive never participated in a challenge before and i think @honeysucklesteve is just the sweetest so hope you like it el! And congrats on 4k :T

__________________________________

“And the interesting thing about that, mind I add…” the words of your professor falling short because you can’t shake the feeling of his eyes looking at you.

You kept your head low fighting the urge within you not to look back. A couple nights ago you landed yourself in the bed of the infamous frat president Steve Rogers and to make matters worse, you both major in American Studies meaning you share all of your classes.

You didn’t have much experience with guys in high school so it wasn’t surprising when you had the same experience in college. What was surprising was the fact you spent a night in the arms of one of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Steve Rogers was a huge catch. Teachers loved him, girls chased him,and guys wanted to be him.

You remember that night so vividly.

The way his hands fit so perfectly on your hips. The way his lips felt so hot against your own burning skin; and moved perfectly against yours. The things he whispered in your ear. They way he held you close when you fell asleep in his arms. The way you hated yourself the next morning when you snuck out. The way your tummy flutters simply because he’s looking at you right now.

You breathed out shakily before turning your head to find his eyes with yours; he looked away the moment you did shyly, very unlike him. Fuck he was gonna be the death of you.

“And that should be the end of the lecture. I’m gonna go ahead let you guys go a little early. Have a good weekend everyone and make sure to check your emails,” the professor gathered his things and left.

You packed your things quickly trying your best to avoid his gaze that you knew was still on you. Steve packed quickly too before walking hot on your tail, just about to call your name until…

“Hey, Y/n,” Bucky called out.

“Oh, hey Buck.”

“It’s the weekend and as usual the guys and I want to party tonight. But the dean said one more noise complaint about our house and we get on academic probation so we’re asking a couple of people who might wanna come to the club with us.”

Behind Bucky you could see Steve walking towards you two and your stomach sank. Bucky and Steve were best friends and you don’t know if Steve told him that you guys slept together last weekend. What if something happens again tonight if you say yes. Why are you even thinking that something could happen again? Steve Rogers is way out of your league it was a miracle that you landed a chance to be his bed warmer in the first place.

“I’ll see you for lunch, man,” Steve said to Bucky patting his best friend's shoulders. His eyes lingering with yours until you had to pull away.

“I don’t think I should,” you told him, walking towards the door.

“Come on, Nat told me you're quite the party animal and you left early last week I didn’t get to see you in action,” Bucky chuckled, walking with you. You didn’t leave early…

“Buck,” you looked at him.

“Please?” he asked. You exhaled sharply rolling your eyes before walking away to your next class.

“Is that a yes?” he shouted, making you turn around with a cheeky grin. You got to your next class and noticed Steve sitting in a new seat today, particularly the one next to the seat you usually sit in. None of his housemates or regular friends took this specific lecture so he usually sat in the very back corner alone. But today here he is.

His head snapped up when you entered the room. You hesitantly sat down next to him still avoiding his eyes. You set up your laptop on the small table as did Steve; both your eyes glancing at each other quite awkwardly until Steve finally interrupts the silence.

“You coming tonight?” he whispered.

“What’s in it for me if I do?” you said playfully.

“A repeat of the best night you’ve ever had,” he said cheekily.

“Oh, really,” you chuckled sarcastically as he nodded with an overly proud smirk.

“Probably not,” you answer his question.

“Seriously? Why not? I can pick you up,” he said.

“Steve,” you warned.

“What? Afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”

“You’re so full of it,” you said, making you both laugh.

“You were full of my dick last week,” he whispered.

“Steve!” you punched his side making him laugh hard enough for other students to take notice of your ruckus.

“Welcome class, we’ll begin the lecture in one minute. I’m just gonna pull it up on the projector,” the professor said rushing in.

“Please come tonight,” he whispered.

“Why are you obsessed with me?” you joked.

“Fuck off,” he chuckled.

“If I say ok, will you shut up for the rest of the lecture?”

“Maybe,” he grinned.

“Then maybe I’ll come,” you smirked.

Throughout the lecture Steve paid absolutely no attention whatsoever. Steve had been thinking about that night just as much as you had. The way your neck craned to the side a bit, reminding him of when he littered marks and bruises all over last week. The way you subtly bit your lip in concentration but all that clouded his mind was lust remembering how you looked so pretty from above when he was settled between your legs.

He wanted you again so badly. He wasn't going to lie, it sort of hurt him when he woke up and you weren't there. He thought maybe there was something between you two, god knows the tension was overwhelming that night. You weren't the most frisky woman he'd been with but you were sweet; slight innocence with your intimacy. He craved you.

Steve leaned towards you, his fingers twiddling with yours. You tried your best to ignore his advances despite how much you equally craved him. He ran his nose along your cheek and jaw and your breathing quickened inhumanly.

"What are you doing?" you whispered.

"Nothing, just relax," he responded. As much as he wanted to drag you out of class and fuck you so good, he knew you'd rip him a new one if he did. No matter how he'd make you feel.

"No, we're in the middle of a lecture," you argued.

"I'm not doing anything," he said humorously, you were not humored though.

"Steve," you scolded when he pressed a faint kiss under your ear.

You knew a guy like Steve was horny practically twenty-four seven, but you didn't take him to be quite clingy. Especially with someone like you. His arm wrapped under yours. His other resting on your thigh. His head tucked in the crook of your neck. It wasn't particularly sexual, but it was intimate. Something normal to couples, and you two were not a couple.

"Please come tonight," he whispered, “If not I’ll come over.”

"Ugh fine," you grunted, your voice breaking into a giggle because you did somewhat enjoy this unfamiliar attention.

Steve continued to sit next to you during the rest of your classes for the day absent mindedly teasing you, playing with your fingers, twirling your hair between his fingers, leaning his head on your shoulder while he held your hand. Like geez, take a girl out already.

By the time you got back to your shared apartment with two of your closest friends you felt conflicted. Why the sudden shift in Steve? You two weren't exactly best friends before, just two people who shared classes and accidentally slept with each during a drunken night at a frat party.

"Hey, everything ok?" Wanda asked you noticing your inner battle.

"Uh, yeah. Kinda. No," you said defeatedly making the girls chuckle.

"What happened?" Nat asked.

"That guy, that I… you know."

"Fucked?"

"Nat!" you said embarrassed.

"Go on," Wanda encouraged.

"Well, I never told you guys but the guy was Steve," you said shyly.

"What!" the girls exclaimed simultaneously.

"You're lying," Nat laughed.

"You really went from zero to a hundred," Wanda giggled.

"Guys stop," you whined.

"All day today, he's been like super clingy. Holding my hand and pretending he's like my boyfriend."

"Wait, I thought you liked him?" Nat asked, confused.

"I mean I do, but it's sudden and I'm pretty sure it's only because he wants to get in my pants again, you know?" you rationed.

"Awe, I don't think that's true. I've known Steve for a bit and yeah he sleeps around sometimes but he's not a giant dick. Doing that would be way too shallow, especially for Steve," Nat said.

“Yeah but don’t you think it’s weird?” you asked.

“Look did Bucky ask you about tonight?” Nat asked.

“Yeah, he did- how do you know that?” you asked, confused.

“Oh- Uh,” Nat paused.

“She asked Buck to invite you,” Wanda snickered.

“Why?” you asked.

“Well, you never go out with us and the last time you did we thought you just went home but apparently you were getting laid,” Nat cackled.

“Oh my- shut up,” you huffed before storming off to your room.

“Wait! Can you at least come with us tonight?” Wanda followed you.

“No,” you giggled.

“Please!” both girls said at the same time. As you closed your door with a grin on your face not responding.

Hours later you laid on your bed lowly listening to the soft rumbling chaos from your comedic roommates. You stayed in your not so sexy undergarments and not so sexy sweatpants along with a hoodie you stole from your brother before you moved.

You ate the junk you’ve stocked up on the past few weeks feeling a bit glum. It’s not that you didn’t necessarily want to go, you would love to spend another night in that gorgeous man’s arms but there’s absolutely no way Steve is gonna want you the way you’d like him too. Not sober.

There was a subtle knock on your door and you called out knowing the girls were probably ready to leave.

"How do we look?" Nat asked, walking into your room with Wanda.

"Wow, you guys look hot," you said sitting up.

"You think Vis would like this or is it too much?" Wanda asked sheepishly, she's had a crush on the foreign exchange student Vis for the longest time and had yet to make a move.

"I think someone's gonna have a lucky night," you wiggled your brows suggestively, making her roll her eyes and blush.

"What about you, still chasing Bryce?" you turned to Nat looked extra sexy tonight.

"His name is Bruce," she rolled her eyes.

"And yes, I am," she chuckled.

"You're so weird," you giggled, Bruce didn't seem to particularly be Nat's type but hey, no judgement.

"I heard he's got like a monster cock," you said.

"Shut up," she pushed you playfully.

“It’s always the nerds,” Wanda giggled.

"Anyways, are you sure you don't want to come?" Wanda asked sincerely.

"I'm sure," you smiled.

"Steve's gonna miss you," Nat teased.

"Yeah, I doubt that."

"Well, stay safe, cutie," the girls waved heading to the Uber that waited outside for them.

"You too!"

You sighed before grabbing more snacks to stuff your face with. A couple hours went by of sitting around watching nonsense on TV for a bit. You ate dinner that was far from fine dining but it was available before slouching on your bed until the late hours of the night.

You were practically falling asleep, tired and dry eyes glued to the screen of your small TV when you got a knock at the front door. You check the clock by your bed wondering if maybe either of the girls left their keys, but it wasn’t even midnight yet.

You clutched your phone walking hastily to the front door as quietly as possible creeping up to the peehole to see who would be your unexpected guest.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you swung the door open.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Steve retorted.

“My jamas,” you rolled eyes stepping to side to let him in.

“Seriously what are you doing here?”

“I told you earlier, you didn’t come tonight so I came to you,” he said, taking his jacket off.

“Seriously?” you tried not to smile, but the action gave you butterflies.

“You promised to come. I missed you,” he said walking up to you.

“You’re so full of shit,” you giggled, staring at his devilishly handsome grin.

“Come on, whatcha doing?” he said, grabbing your hand and taking you to the room. You three had a fairly small apartment and your light was obviously the only one on in the whole apartment making it easy for him.

“Well, before you rudely invaded my home, I was stuffing my face with all kinds of junk watching TV,” you said to him making him scowl playfully at you.

“Well, then let’s finish the rest of your junk food then,” he said laying on your bed. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the sudden shift in attention. Steve was a guy who could have anyone and he’s chasing you for some reason.

You weren’t a blonde bombshell with a perfect hourglass figure that made guys want you left and right. You had flaws that drew people away and you don’t think Steve remembers that night like you do. What if he hates your body? What if he thinks you're annoying and suddenly leaves?

“Everything alright?” Steve asked you.

“Uh, sorta,” you answered honestly.

“Come here, talk to me,” he said, opening his arms. You couldn't help your eyes narrowing at him.

“What?”

“Do you even remember anything from that night?” you whispered.

“Where’s this coming from?” he asked.

“Steve, come on,” you chuckled.

“What?”

“Do you just wanna fuck now? Make it quick so you can go back to the party-”

“Woah, who said anything about fucking?” he stood up towering over you making you suddenly feel really small and shy.

“I mean that’s why you’re here, right?”

“I came because I told you if you didn't go out with us that I was gonna hang with you. I didn’t say anything about sleeping with you. If you really want I can go home but I wanted to hang out with you,” he said sincerely.

“Oh, I- uh,” you stuttered; well now you feel like a dick.

“We can just sit and keep watching TV until you want to go to sleep and I can head out,” he said, sitting back down on your bed. You sat beside him carefully watching his movements. He kept his eyes trained on the TV for a bit before locking his eyes with yours. You turned away quickly hearing him chuckle before sudden movement escalated behind.

Steve grabbed you from behind gently and leaned back so you laid on his chest. You could feel the hard plains of muscles on your back. And the way his strong wrapped perfectly around your waist, it felt heavenly.

Steve’s jaw tightened from the hypnotizing scent of your shampoo. He remembered it from that night not long ago and he couldn’t get it out of his head.

He wasn't going to lie, since that night all he could think about was how smooth your skin was under his fingertips. How pretty you sounded when he was settled between your legs. How good it felt when your fingers carded through his hair. He wanted you so bad.

He wanted to wake you up between your thighs again. Ravish you once more before breakfast, hell eat you for breakfast. But when you weren't there sleeping as peacefully beside him like the night before, his heart tugged. Did he say something wrong? Did he do something wrong? What if he hurt you?

He gave you space, clearly evident you hadn't wanted to talk to him but those few days went by and the same lingering stares and shy glances came back again and he craved you in his arms again.

When Nat asked him and Bucky to invite you again out to party, he really wanted to be with you that night even if you didn't end the night naked in each other's arms, just being around you was enough for him. Fortunately here he is with you, with arms wrapped around your waist and Steve couldn’t be happier.

You looked so fucking adorable to wearing sweats and a hoodie; he wishes it was one of his own. You had fluffy socks on too that had dog faces on them and he swears his heart melted. What you two were watching was making you laugh and each chuckle or giggle that came from you was like music to his ears.

He couldn’t help himself when his lips pressed against the top of your head. Your body momentarily froze before relaxing again in his arms. Your arms laid over his and tightened so you could cuddle into him even more. Your eyes felt heavy and the feeling of Steve’s lips slowly reaching your neck didn’t help you want to sleep.

When his cool lips grazed your burning skin, you could feel your skin burst into chills. You practically shuddered in his arms and your face grew hot when you did. It all becomes suddenly overwhelming and you jump off on his lap turning to him with a distressed expression.

“What happened? Did I do something wrong?” Steve said worriedly.

“You did just want to sleep with me,” you mumbled tears forming in your eyes.

“What! No, that’s not it,” he panicked; using you was the last thing he wanted you to think he was doing, and wanted in general.

“Then what’s going with you? Ever since we fucked you’re suddenly attached to me, putting your hands all over me, pretending like you're my boyfriend! And I don’t understand why,” you said frustrated.

“I feel like your just using me or something-”

“That is the last thing I want,” he interrupted, his voice low.

“Then why are you doing this; Steve you could have anybody and for some fucking sick reason you keeping mocking me. Making me think I have a chance.”

“And you don’t think you do?” he asked, heart broken, making you scoff and turn away.

“Look, fine I’ll admit that maybe before that night I wouldn’t have made a move; but I’m gonna admit that I haven’t not felt something for you before,” he said, getting closer to you.

“What?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met. And that night didn’t do shit to help me get over you,” he chuckled.

You crawled to him carefully looking into his eyes for any sign that he was being untruthful; you cupped his face gently.

“Are you drunk?” you whispered.

“Not one bit.”

You pressed your lips to his feverishly and Steve nearly moaned at the feeling. His hands grasped your waist firmly pulling you to sit comfortably on his lap. His hands crept under your hoodie holding you close.

Your hands rested on his broad shoulders holding yourself up as slowly leaned back onto your pillows. Your cold hands cupped his face as you deepened the kiss and his hand went to rest on your bottom.

With this new found position, his chest pressed against yours, his hips grinded up allowing you to feel all of him. Every pushing second you grew needier and whiny, practically clawing at his shirt to feel his skin.

"So needy already. And I've hardly touched you," he chuckled lowly in your ear.

He sat up nonetheless and stripped his shirt revealing his gorgeous physique that kept you up at night and infiltrated your dirtiest dreams. You brushed your hands all over his chest with your bottom lip between your teeth; Steve smirking slightly proud of the effect he had on you simply by having his shirt off.

"Come on, pretty girl. I wanna see you too," he's whispered before kissing you softly.

"Wait, I don't…" you didn't particularly feel very sexy and instantly became insecure about your body compared to Steve's.

"It's ok, we can cuddle," he smiled.

"Well, if I'm being honest I do want you. It's just, I just ate all this junk food and I'm not wearing anything sexy. I didn't shave and-"

"Hey, I don't care. You don't need to impress me or wear anything special for me. I just want you to look pretty sitting on my face and make pretty sounds telling me how I'm gonna make you feel."

Your body trembled at his words, arousal instantly flooding from you. His nose brushed against your cheek dragging along to your jawline before pressing kisses gingerly to your jaw and neck. His hands slowly lifted your hoodie and you raised your hands letting him remove your hoodie.

Your shoulders caved in out of habit, being topless in front of handsome men wasn't normally on your schedule; but the look in Steve's eyes, the look on his face holding a hungry and adorning expression made you more comfortable, reaching out to cup his face kissing him deeply.

You sighed breathlessly into the kiss as Steve's hands rubbed your sides. You pulled away momentarily only to put your lips on Steve's neck. Steve felt himself growing harder and needier to see you, feel you, pleasure you.

"Pretty girl, I need you. Lemme taste you, please," he whined.

He picked you up and laid down on your back to pull your sweatpants down your legs. You lifted your hips for him and he smiled cheekily at you biting his lip. Steve lifted your leg kissing the inside of your calf staring at with those hungry eyes.

"I still wanna see you sitting on my face, pretty girl," Steve said, pulling to him.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna crush you or anything," you whispered, making Steve chuckle.

Steve laid down assuring you that he wanted this and grabbed your hand helping you straddle his face. When you did Steve kissed the inside of your thighs playfully nipping and marking the sensitive skin making you gasp.

Steve wrapped his hands around your thighs bringing your center impossibly close to him, finally licking a long and wet stripe up your slit. Your moans were soft at first but when Steve started circling his tongue around your clit, you could help getting louder and bucking your hips grinding on his face.

Steve’s eyes were close relishing in your sex. You combed your fingers through his hair and Steve moaned loudly against your pussy. He dipped his tongue past your folds and that along with the vibrations from his beautiful moans, you head threw back moaning in pure ecstasy, moaning so loud your neighbors were definitely going to file a complaint.

“Fuck, Steve. Your mouth feels so good; shit!” you whined.

His tongue circled your clit again quicker this time and you bucked your hips, tightening your stomach and squeezing your legs as you approached your high. Steve kneaded the soft flesh of your ass lapping up everything you gave him.

Steve crawled from under you as you held onto the headboard, still standing on your knees, trying to catch your breath. Steve came up behind you rubbing your hips softly, kissing the back of your neck softly. He quickly rid the remaining of his clothes he still wore, his painfully hard cock slapping against his stomach desperate for some sort of attention.

You breathe softly, hyper focused on the cum that slipped down your inner thighs. Your legs lightly trembled from just his mouth you couldn’t wait to feel what his cock would feel like, filling you up like it was only a week ago. Steve sat beside you looking at you with a soft smile on his face, his hand softly rubbing the back of your legs and your bottom too.

He reached around to grab your hip and slowly turned you around settling you between his legs; your back pressed against his chest as it was only moments before, more innocently than now. His lips sucked and kissed your neck as his hands cupped and kneaded the soft flesh of your breasts.

Your hands rested over his own and your hips squirmed a bit for eagerness. The low growl from Steve because your hips grinded against his cock was incredibly arousing.

“Such an eager little slut ain't cha’,” he grabbed your hair.

“Fuck,” you mumbled as he pushed you forward on your hands and knees.

“Want me to fuck you? Remind you how I felt buried so fucking deep inside you? God, I think about you every fucking night; how perfect you were wrapped around me, how beautiful you sounded underneath me,” he whispered huskily in your ear making you shudder.

“Stevie, please,” you whimpered.

His hands rubbed up and down your back as he chuckled darkly.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting to take care of you again, pretty girl,” he kissed your back softly.

He wrapped his hand around his cock slowly and languidly pumping it. He couldn’t help but tease slightly circled his tip along your entrance pulling desperate whines from you. He finally reached his own breaking point, unable to stand not being able to feel you so he pushed his hips forward moaning loudly at how tight you felt around him.

“So good, pretty girl,” he moaned.

“Fuck, Stevie. Filling me up so good; you’re so big,” you sighed.

“Damn right, pretty girl. Taking my cock so well. Fucking made for me,” he grunted.

His snapped in and out increasingly quicker with each thrust; the vulgar sounds of his movements and skin slapping against each other echoed loudly in the room. Harmonizing with both your pleasurable moans.

Chasing both your releases, Steve’s hips jerked rougher and harder in and out of you making you practically shriek at the feeling. He leaned forward wrapping his hand around your throat before pulling you flush against his chest.

“Such pretty baby,” he bit your ear.

“Fuck! Stevie I need to come,” you whined.

“Yeah, you want to come all over my cock? Make a fucking mess?” he growled.

“Please!”

“Hold on, pretty girl. I’m almost there,” he sighed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes in pleasure.

You whined and whimpered, tears brimming your eyes from that overwhelming feeling. You couldn’t help but clench hard around his cock desperately holding back for your release.

“Fuck, do that again, pretty girl,” Steve gasped.

“God, yes. I’m close, pretty girl. You ready to come?” he pulled your head back to look at your face.

Tears fell inelegantly down your cheeks, sweat lined your forehead, your chest moved rapidly up and down; to Steve, you looked ethereal.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Let go, pretty girl. I gotcha,” he whispered against your lips.

Your eyes rolled back as your body shook against Steve’s, releasing onto his dick profoundly. Steve swallowed your louds moans, roughly pressing his lips to yours, moaning himself. You clenched hard around Steve one last time feeling his throbbing cock shoot hot ribbons of cum, coating your walls.

When you eased your way slowly down from your high, Steve laid you down gently pulling out to see his cum mixed with yours spilling from you. You looked so fucked out breathing heavily, whimpering at the loss of Steve inside you. He wanted to, but held back from taking you again. But not wanting to hurt you, he treaded towards the bathroom and turned on the water to run you two a hot bath. He picked you up gently pressing kisses all over your face and neck before planting one delicious kiss on your lips; your hands reaching around his neck to deepen it if that was even possible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, coating your arms with soap to wash you. You laid against him with your eyes closed desperately trying not to fall asleep in his arms.

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asked softly.

“Mh-m,” you shook your head slightly with a blissful smile on your face.

“Good,” he wrapped his arms around you tightly, kissing you passionately.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, barely audibly.

“For coming to hang out with me tonight,” you chuckled. Your eyes felt too heavy, simply remembering the way he carried you carefully back to your bed and held for the rest of the night.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

@stefans-wife

@cordeliaswhore

@fleurlovesbucky

@wandanatasha0720

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain.      Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

[flourescentcats]

Hi there, I'm new to the fandom as well, but I was introduced to it by a friend so I had more guidance going in. Also I am missing some things, so much appreciated if someone could fill in for what I missed or correct me if I'm wrong. Or I might be misinterpreting this entire post (apologies if that is the case).

The 13/16 years that Lan WangJi spent with no hope of seeing Wei WuXian again

This one I'm pretty sure there's no confirmed information about, other than LWJ taking care of (and also I'm pretty sure adopting) LSZ/WY, however there is a popular headcanon I like referred to as "13/16 years of Inquiry" where LWJ played Inquiry every day during those years to find WWX, so that might be a good place to look.

Where tf Wei WuXian was, what kind of limbo he was caught in

I saw somewhere that MXTX (the author) answered this one in an interview. While going back for the details, here is what I found:

Q8. What was Wei Wuxian’s experience in the Burial Mounds on earth? Was there any real secret manual left by a superior? After the massacre of the Nightless City, what did Lan Wangji say to Wei Wuxian when he was healing Wei Wuxian? How did Wei Wuxian pass the 13 years when he’s dead?

MXTX: It’s not interesting, if I just show everything up. But, there’s not any superior’s secret arts, because I don’t really like such scenario, like someone planted the tree, then people who come later could take not efforts and just enjoy the coolness in the shadow under the tree. Please make your own way. He’s in a state of chaos, not quite conscious but didn’t lose all his senses, just like he’s in an endless nightmare.

source

Differences in Mo XuanYu and Wei WuXian's appearance

All I know about this part is that WWX was always directly summoned into MXY's body, save for the live-action version where his body was also resurrected. MXY is shorter than WWX. WWX, who cares a lot about his physical appearance, compliments MXY's appearance.

I watched a couple episodes of the live-action from the beginning, middle and end, and I noticed a red line on WWX's neck on the last episode that I had not noticed before. I'm too impatient to go back and check /lh, but this could be a part of his clothing or a mark of his resurruction I didn't notice, or it could be a cut from a battle I didn't watch. I think it's a mark of resurruction but of course I can't be sure as I didn't watch it through.

Jiang Cheng's feelings about Lan WangJi taking Wei WuXian's away from him/family

My interpretation of this part of the novel is that JC blamed/blames WWX for JYL's death, and already disowned him a long time ago, so he hates WWX and doesn't particularly care about WWX joining the Lan Sect. Of course their ending relationship differs between the types of media, I'm going with the novel however I don't have a translation past the ending of the 4th book, instead I'm going off of fandom as I've seen a lot of reconciliation fics so I assume they haven't done so in canon yet. My personal headcanon is that JC is really conflicted about this and after the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds he unconciously starts to change his views but he's too stubborn to let it show.

The death of women/girls with good major parts (so many just used as plot points)

I don't particularly see this as a problem, because it really wasn't just the girls who were used as plot points. There was the death of NMJ, JGS, JZX (<- both of them) and even JGY's death could be considered a major plot point however far into the story it is, as it exposes NHS's plot to WWX and LWJ. I do see your point though, as these are all antagonistic characters. It just doesn't bother me too much, and I think it's because of their role and personalities before their deaths.

The girl's/women's side of the GusuLan Sect (or any of the Sects, really)

There's not much to go off of on that as they are kept separated, but there are many instances where female cultivators are disrespected and their opinions are invalidated as they are accused of being manipulated by their emotions. For instance in the novel Mianmian stands up for WWX at one point during his first life, however people laughed at her and said she was just biased because WWX flirted with her in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter.

That's pretty much all I know about this as like I said, I'm new to the fandom as well, but I hope this helps!

I have resurfaced

I am not kidding.

I was lost there for a while.

And it was so nice to be able to sink so far into a fictional world again. I miss it.

It was really hard to leave the headspace but...now that I have consumed most versions of the Mo Dao Zu Shi/Chén Qíng Lìng/The Untamed universe, I feel like that person who arrived late to the party. There is so much out there that's been written, I have to sift through so many bits and pieces on Tumblr, Reddit, YouTube, AO3...and it's just too much chaff.

I kick myself for not continuing after the first episode back in Jan 2020 (I even watched it twice) because I was so confused.

So I thought I'd ask, since the Tumblr community still seems to produce enough content daily about MDSZ, if folks could point me in the direction of particular content, because

[spoilers below]

I'm looking for meta of

The 13/16 years that Lan WangJi spent with no hope of seeing Wei WuXian again

What he felt for the three months no one could find him

Where tf Wei WuXian was, what kind of limbo he was caught in

The inner thoughts of Lan WangJi as he tried to untangle good/evil, right/wrong, black/white questions, especially as he (struggle boy, struggle!) worked through his emotional and rational minds in the rain, letting Wei WuXian escape with the remnants of the Wen Clan

Differences in Mo XuanYu and Wei WuXian's appearance

Whether Wei WuXian came back with the same 20-year old mentality, and if he caught up quickly, or how the 33/36 year old Lan WangJi explained it to himself (I mean, you can see the maturity catching up to him in the extra chapters but at his return point...)

The unreliability of Wei WuXian as a narrator

Jiang Cheng's feelings about Lan WangJi taking Wei WuXian's away from him/family

JC saving LWJ in the temple despite his dislike of LWJ (in CQL)

Why LXC wants to die with JGY

Precious baby Wen Ning (i luvs him so much)

Binding - Bonding - Boring and headband parallels

Thoughts on

The dearth of women/girls with good major parts (so many just used as plot points)

The girl's/women's side of the GusuLan Sect (or any of the Sects, really)

Genderbent LWJ and WWX

Fan art of

The umbrella/rain scene when WWX rescues the Wens rescue to the Burial Grounds (I have the perfect picture frame but I need a really good piece to purchase or commission - screen caps are too grainy and I have way too rusty painting/drawing skills to attempt)

A quiet night in the Jingshi

The Jiang sect ancestral hall three bows scene

And any particularly good fic along these lines.

I haven't been this inspired to make something in half a decade, and just don't know quite what to put my effort into. All I am doing right now is contemplating art projects, jewelry, fics, making an all black Gusu-type hanfu... But the only thing so far I've made are angsty playlists and one drabble on AO3.

Thank you.

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Some thoughts on Jack and Tommy’s character’s relationship.

Hey guys, some thoughts on Jack and Tommy’s character’s relationship.

They’re just so tragic, you know? They could be such good friends - and they have been in the past. But instead one wants to kill the other and they can’t seem to really see each other. And I think it’s because they’re so similar. They really are.

They have so much in common. They love to hang out with others and both enjoy cause a certain level of chaos for fun. They have a similar sense of humour. They were both part of L’Manburg and miss being a part of it. Neither are able to live a peaceful life despite wanting closure. They’ve both experienced hurt/betrayal from the people they trusted. They’ve both lost everything many times.  They’ve both died and come back. They’re both currently plotting to kill their enemy in order to finally experience peace. 

And yet the biggest difference is perhaps how Tommy gets way too much attention while Jack doesn’t get enough. Jack feels overlooked and his plot over Season 2 was him trying to do things but each time his scheme would get foiled before it even went anywhere and no one even noticed. He got so tired of never being noticed and that fed into his anger. Tommy meanwhile was being targeted throughout season 2, Dream was actively trying to destroy his life and  every single action he took was being harshly judged. He wanted nothing more than to just chill and have a nice time but he kept being forced to take a stand and choose between his friends and get challenged on everything he did. If Jack’s character is fed up with being seen as a side character than Tommy’s character is equally tired of being seen as a main character.

This issue was so apparent in their fight at the hotel. Jack was furious as Tommy was overlooking him yet again while Tommy did not want to deal with anything, just wanting to feel normal again after his ordeal. 

These two just can’t seem to see each other! Tommy doesn’t know that Jacks still caught up on that time he killed him - he’s unaware that it was a canon death and that he hadn’t resolved it after his apology afterwards and letting Jack steal Hotter Girl. He’s unaware that Jack felt abandoned in Schlatt’s Manburg. Unaware that Jack died in the Doomsday war fighting in defence of Tommy’s L’Manburg and then came back from the dead. When Jack shouts at him, he can’t see that Jack’s been suffering as well and needs him to actually listen and pay attention to him. Tommy looks at Jack and says, ‘nothing ever happens to you. You’re Jack Manifold.’

Meanwhile Jack is seeing Tommy as a monster, the shadow of his once friend who died a long time ago. He thinks Tommy is the source of all conflict on the server and can only create problems and that’s not really who Tommy is. Like Tommy was in no way responsible for Doomsday - it was Tubbo and Quackity for the Butcher’s army, and Techno and Dream for the actual attack. Tommy griefing George lead to Dream building those walls and attacking Manifoldland yes, but Dream was targeting Tommy anyway and likely would have found some other reason to have him exiled if he hadn’t done that (rather minor) grief. (Not that he hasn’t done anything wrong, just nothing that really means the server would have actually been better without him.) Tommy is instead another victim trying his best to recover and be more peaceful. He was trying to move on when they argued in that hotel, not because he didn’t care about Jack at all, but because he was overwhelmed and couldn’t deal with discussing how he’d died or Jack’s feelings about it. 

Both characters are rather lonely right now. When Tommy died, Jack admitted he didn’t feel like he had anyone and that Tommy had been giving him a purpose. He missed belonging to something, missed the good days of L’Manburg when he had real friends. The first time he felt betrayed was being left behind in Manburg. Meanwhile, while Tommy was in prison, he expressed how there being trapped alone in isolation was a fate worse than death to him, and much of his exile had been marked by his great feelings of loneliness. Getting out had him seeing some of his friends seeming to be moving on and it hurt him to feel so left out and unwanted once more.

Both of them want Dream gone. They both recognised him as the biggest threat, even as Jack sees Tommy on the same level while thinking Dream is taken care of and Tommy is afraid that Dream will escape and bring more terror to the server. Jack wants to become Prison Warden while Tommy wants the prison to be reformed and Sam to be removed from his position. These two both want the hotel to thrive, they both consider it theirs. 

Their goals align so much, they have so much to offer each other, they are such natural friends and yet they are at odds. I want them to resolve their issues. They’ll have to both learn to see each other properly and both learn to listen to each other. They’ve both had development - after his reaction to Tommy death, I don’t think Jack will be able to go through with killing him. He’s not a cruel person, just an angry one. And Tommy has been trying to be less self-centred and he’s been expressing his issues better lately. I feel like he should be able to actually listen and try and mend things when he’s ready. He does have the capacity to apologise and admit fault once he’s realised.

All in all, it is my hope that they could be friends again and become close. The potential is there!

--Thanks for reading. I don’t know Jack’s character quite as well as Tommy’s - though I do watch and love them both - so please, please tell me if I got anything wrong about him or you’d like to offer any extra insight that I may have overlooked. I adore their dynamic and really enjoy discussing it, tragic though it is. Hopefully I haven’t seemed too harsh on either character, they both have flaws and reasons for them and they’re both sympathetic!

[yelenasdog]

hurricane (brian may x fem reader)

request by the wonderful @speciallyred w prompts 45 and 58 from this prompt list! i was super nervous to write this bc i love her writing but i hope u enjoy!!

genre: per request of anna, angsty! but it ends w some fluff to mend ur broken heart hehe

summary: he’s never home, and neither is she. he can’t communicate, and she just wants to be loved.

words: 1.5k this was supposed to b a drabble OOPS

warnings: crying, sadness, mentions of marriage+kids, mentions and accusations of cheating, i think that’s it but as always, lmk if i missed any!

a/n: ok so a. y/n wasn’t used so if u wanted this do bri x some other female or oc that would work, and b. i also didn’t use anything that would keep this from being able to be read as a gwil!bri fic :) mwah (also i just realized this but this could totally be a song fic for i want love by elton john ok bye luv u)

 ⭑ 🎸

It was deathly silent in the spacious former home of Brian and his beloved, that had now been reduced to only a house. The ticking of the grandfather clock he had insisted that they had to have when they moved in could be heard ringing out and echoing, pestering the girl to no end.

It was always quiet in their house, even when they fought. There was never a rushed bustle of children you had to get out the door to school, and not even a cat or dog to create a disruptive chaos as they ran about, muddy paws leaving marks on the floor.

There would be the occasional record playing lowly, the notes floating about the house, and sometimes if she couldn’t sleep, she would have Bri play her a soft tune on his old acoustic, his voice having no issue bringing her to rest.

But even now, during one of the most heart wrenching fights that the pair had gone through, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop on the hardwood flooring.

As Brian was a soft and gentle man, never yelling or raising his voice in the slightest. He wasn’t mean or cruel, in fact, his entire aura calmed her to no end, which is why she supposed she hated this so much.

She scanned with careful eyes over his silhouette, watching as stray curls rustled from the draft coming in from the open window, goosebumps raising on both of their exposed arms.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just you, Bri.”

He rolled his eyes from where he sat on the white sofa, moving his fist under his chin. A scoff fell from his rosy lips as he turned his head to look out the window, not actually paying any mind to the green hills, a light frost covering the entire landscape.

“So are you just going to ignore me?”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

A salty tear rolled down her face, the incoming breeze hitting her dampened face. She inhaled sharply, her chilled skin becoming slimy and cold to the touch.

Brian wouldn’t know that, though, he hadn’t touched her in days. Weeks, even.

She had wanted to say that his words were malicious, with venom dripping from his tone, like some sort of acid was coating his vocal cords.

But they weren’t. His voice never raised a damn octave, staying completely neutral. And it was driving her mad.

“Then what is this, Brian?”

“I’m collecting my thoughts.”

She laughed, the sound lacking its usual melodic intonation that the guitarist adored so much. He was the reasoning behind the dry chuckle, that much he knew, and he hated it. God, how he despised it. But, he would never let it show. How could he, when he was the initiator of the (extremely childish, now that he thought over it) conflict to begin with? He knew his accusation was emptier than the large building they resided in, and he knew that the results would be horrendous.

But jealousy was an ugly green parasite that had rooted itself in Brian May’s heart, slowly consuming him from the inside out. It was like a devil that rested on his left shoulder, insisting that she was unfaithful, taking advantage of his extended leaves. He foolishly acted on the devil’s words, which led to where they were now.

“Well, how long do you need to ‘collect your thoughts’?” She folded her leg under her opposite thigh, leaning towards him, the distance of only a few feet feeling like worlds away to her broken heart. She would always be drawn to him like some sort of magnet, no matter how badly he hurt her.

“I’m not sure, would you like me to do so elsewhere?”

A beat passed.

“Why, so you can go shag someone else, just like I apparently have been?”

Again, silence.

“You were gone for 3 hours every night on every Tuesday the past month-“

“You kept track? You’re out of your damn mind.” She raised her voice, sitting up, suddenly enraged with his obsessive distrust rather than saddened.

“That’s not important-“

“What’s important is that you’re gone on tour for 10 times as long as that, leaving me here completely alone to my own devices! I trust you enough to believe that you remain mine while you’re away, but for some unknown reason, you can’t manage to think the same about me.”

His flippancy on the issue at hand agitated her (or his lack thereof in general, she supposed) to no end. She wanted him to scream and cry, to throw something, to loudly shout, to shed fury fueled tears as she had. She knew it was wrong, but quite frankly she didn’t care.

He tried to speak up for himself, stuttering out something about how he did in fact trust her, but all to no avail. She would have none of it, not now.

“What’s important, Brian, is that every Tuesday, I’m staying 3 hours after work to try to make it so that I don’t have to rely on you for money, because I don’t want you to think even for a moment I’m with you just because you’re some incredibly famous rockstar who happens to be loaded!”

She was standing now, although she couldn't quite remember bringing her body from the comforts of the soft chair by the mantle to her feet. The roaring fire beside her had died down into a flurry of golden embers, heat still radiating from the pile of charred logs, Brian failing to provide even a fraction of the same warmth.

“Because I love you, and as of late, I’m starting to wonder if you love me too.”

He stood, walking over to where she was in a timely manner, his long legs carrying him quickly. Her breath hitched at their sudden proximity, her surprise only growing when he gripped his hands on either side of her face, pulling her forward and capturing her lips in a long awaited union.

She loathed that her stiff figure was melting into him faster than she would like to admit, and she even more, she loathed the fact she knew she always would.

He was able to taste her tears that hadn’t ceased to roll down her face, the bitter droplets seeping onto the tip of his tongue. He pulled away, his right hand caressing her cheekbone while his forehead rested upon hers. His bottom lip quivered, a wave of emotions hitting him like a hurricane in full force.

His eyes become glassy, and all at once, tears flood his eyesight, pouring down his flushed features. He looked down, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. The bawling didn’t stop as he had hoped, though, it just slowed, the liquid dropping onto her shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much that it hurts. And ’m sorry, I’m so incredibly sorry, darling.”

She smiled softly, lightly massaging the top of his scalp, his locks growing frizzy.

“I know. But it’s just so hard- It seems everyone is getting married, and settling down. Hell, even Fred has his cats.”

They both laughed, and she chewed her bottom lip, a habit of hers that Bri had picked up on in the time he’d known her.

“I just get lonely, Bri, and it feels like you never let me know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. That’s all, honest to God.”

They moved to sit down, and he pulled closer than they had been in ages.

“I’ll support you in any way shape or form, no matter what, yeah?”

She simply nodded, leaning onto his shoulder.

“Yeah. I know.”

Raising his eyebrows, he cocked his head, choosing his next words carefully.

“And if you’re serious about, y’know, having a family and ‘settling down’ and everything, I’ll do it.”

She met his eyes, her smile growing wider.

“Really?”

He hummed, nodding his head. “I love you, and this house is far too quiet.”

She giggled, tossing her arms around his neck and throwing herself on him.

“I must say I agree.”

After the grins had retreated into soft smiles, and the two had come to a much more stolid point, she sat up, patting her lap.

Brian understood immediately, laying his tired head down and allowing her to play with his hair. She moved her hands to oh so lightly trace the crook of his nose and the bags under his eyes (from the late nights he spent performing, wishing he was in the exact position he was in now), the ticklish feeling making him nuzzle into her hand with a whine.

She couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful boy beneath her, as even with all the work that there was to be done between them, she felt confident that he was in it for the long haul.

🦔⭑ 🎸

me @ u for reading that

ty for reading, like and rb if u wanna :) go drink some water and eat some protein if u can!

as always, xx hj <3

[hawkland]

Destiel fic recs #3 - the (mostly) longfic edition!

It’s been a while since my last rec post - mostly because I’ve been wallowing in a number of longer fics (50-350k!) so it’s taken me a while to have enough to talk about in one post (and boy do I talk a lot, here!)

With these longer fics, I do sometimes have some caveats with my recs - or at least reasons why they might not appeal to every Dean/Cas reader. But note that if I didn’t overall strongly recommend reading the fic I wouldn’t include it in my recs here at all, so any quibbles I bring up are minor compared to my overall enjoyment of the stories. Just, I don’t want someone to commit to a long read without knowing what they’re getting into and why it might not be their thing.

I’m still not into reading complete setting AUs at this time, but a lot/most of these are canon-divergence AUs, often written/set at the end of a season and giving an alternative take on what happened next. I love those kind of stories, as it’s often so interesting to see how fans thought of what might happen in the next season (especially when it’s better than what we actually got.)

Onto the recs & discussion behind the cut!

The Sinking Ship by UnfortunatelyObsessed (114k). This is a story that ripped my heart to pieces (in a good way!). I stayed up all night to finish reading because I simply couldn’t stop once I started on it and it gave me a massive fic hanger from all my emotions. Season 14 divergence, imagine if Dean did go into the Ma’lak box to trap Michael under the ocean with him forever...and once there, he discovers that Cas has stowed away with him. Because of course Cas would never leave Dean to such a fate on his own.

I loved literally. Every. Damn. Thing. About this fic. Cas telling Dean stories to pass the (endless) time. Their small intimate moments while realizing they can never consummate physically while trapped in the box but finding every other way to express their love. The absolute heartbreak that had me SOBBING when Michael fights for control of Dean and destroys everything they’ve built together and Cas thinks he’s lost Dean forever. Sam & Gabriel & Rowena & Claire & Jack doing everything they can to devise a plan back home to try to save them both while keeping Michael trapped. Also even just the wonderfully sensitive portrayal of aroace Jack still closely bonded with Claire and Maggie and just. And just. This is a story I’ve already re-read just to savor how much I loved it and its portrayal of everyone in TFW 2.0 and their extended family, it just hit my id in all the most incredible ways and I have nothing but absolute love for this one.

Beautiful Chaos by anyrei, mugglerock (141k). Season 9 canon-divergence, in which Dean doesn’t simply abandon Cas to fend for himself post 09x03. Instead he sets Cas up in a kind of squatter’s nest in an abandoned building near the bunker so he can keep tabs on him and help him out. 

This fic definitely gets the award for FILTHIEST, HOTTEST, SMUTTIEST Dean/Cas (and Cas/other) I’ve read in, like, ever, for human!Cas turns out to be a rather insatiable sex fiend/cock slut and Dean is too up his own repressed ass to easily give Cas what he wants/needs. It is dark at times, Cas ends up in some very unsavory/non-con situations, and the authors do mention that they tried to hone in on endverse!Cas’s characterization more than what we saw in Season 9...so you might roll with it, you might not. I adored their original character Jerry the tattoo artist in this, and like I said it was seriously hot (if you are good with total bottom!Cas and Cas with others, I know those are not everyone’s cuppa). I did have a few minor issues. For one, the last chapter felt a bit rushed and hand-wavey, but clearly the authors weren’t fond of the canon conflicts of season 9 & 10 (Abbadon, Mark of Cain) and just wanted to be done with them. Can’t say I really blame them. And I did have to laugh a bit at Lebanon, Kansas apparently having such a bustling gay bar/tattoo artist/etc scene being someone from a butt-fuck nowhere American small town myself. But, SPN was never all that realistic in how Lebanon was shown (and yes I’ve spent too much time roaming around it on Google maps), so if you can suspend some disbelief this is an awesome hot/angsty/occasionally heartbreaking read.

These Forsaken Lands by destielpasta (53k). I came upon this story when looking for fics that dealt in some way with the aftermath of Godstiel. This is a wonderfully atmospheric late Season 9 “fill-in” case fic (post Meta-fiction) where Cas ends up in a small town that had been visited by Godstiel...and while initially residents have reaped much good fortune, there has suddenly been a wave of deaths/bad events and he is determined to find out what happened and set things right. He calls upon Dean for help, but Dean is fighting the Mark of Cain and it’s going to take a lot to get past its control and find a way out for both of them. Together they work on repairing an old church while trying to repair each other and their damaged relationship.

I loved this story for how well written it was, really invoking a gothic small-town/Americana atmosphere. The original characters blend in very well with the case-fic at the center of it, and the author deals really well with Cas at a very fragile point when he’s running on borrowed grace and trying to navigate Dean’s MoC-enhanced anger. It’s Dean/Cas but actually much more of a Cas character study, so I highly recommend it to my fellow/compatriot Cas-girls who love a good wallow in his head.

Mixed Emotions by Tierra469 (50k). Canon 12 “parallel” fic that then goes canon-divergent with the season finale. I actually stumbled on this while in the mood to read some Cas/ or & Mary fic after enjoying their interactions in Season 12 (don’t hate me). This is sort of two fics in one. The first half focuses mostly on filling in the gaps with some critical S12 Cas episodes, especially Cas & Mary’s developing friendship (and one night of something more). But of course Cas’s feelings for Dean (and vice-versa) are always there, and when Cas figures out a way to get his powers fully back, the question is if Dean can open himself up to be vulnerable - and express love - the way Cas needs for this to work.

This was an interesting fic in a lot of ways. I loved the author’s take on angels’ connections to their vessels and grace, it was very consistent in a way the show sometimes/often wasn’t. Cas is very Cas in not understanding privacy and personal boundaries (so he does some questionable things, admittedly, which might squick some readers). The smut is fucking HOT - though I will caution at one point it involves Cas temporarily in a younger (NOT underage) female vessel (and the story does point out Dean’s discomfort with this and some of the consent issues involved, I don’t want to spoil too much). I wanted the Mary plot resolved more than it was, but I still recommend this story strongly for the quality of the writing and unique/well-developed take on angel lore and mechanics that was quite different from what I’m used to reading.

We Are Either Here Or Not Here by petramacneary (54k) A post-season 12 fic that goes on a different tangent to how Cas returns, and what happens in the meantime. Particularly, it offers a different take on what apocalypseverse!Cas would be like—as Mary makes her own way back from that world with AU!Cas as her prisoner.

What I loved about this story: first off, BAMF!Mary is awesome here. Dean is so heartbreaking, not quite knowing what the fuck to do with this different Cas who at times is just a painful reminder of who/what Dean’s lost...but then becomes a chance for Dean to say and express some of the things he always was afraid to in the past. And when (real/our) Cas finally returns, there’s some very interesting stuff that happens with both Cas & AU!Cas and Cas & Dean that I don’t want to spoil. (And let’s also just say that when real!Cas and Dean finally get together it’s AMAZINGLY awesome. Like, hot Impala!sex. So is the artwork that goes with this story.)

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow (353k) The longest fic I read this time around and probably the one I have the most mixed feelings about, but a while on I do keep thinking about parts of it so I do rec it with some caveats. This is a canon-divergence after the end of Season 11. Dean & Sam find Cas after he’s been blasted out of the bunker...to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Mary isn’t in this one except for a brief appearance/visit, which Dean thinks is Amara’s gift to him. Life seems good for a while, they’re enjoying dealing with mundane problems for a change, but then Cas seems to be pulling away from the brothers, spending less and less time with them at the bunker, taking a mundane job at another Gas ‘n Sip, and clearly preoccupied by something else. Or is it someone else? Dean is worried yet finally ready to accept that Cas maybe has a girlfriend, or a boyfried, but then it turns out that is not at all what Cas has going on. It’s something far more serious than that.

Honestly I almost stopped reading when the reveal happened - it’s a subject that’s very sensitive to me from personal/family experience and not something I usually like reading in fic (especially if there is a sad ending.) So I admit I jumped ahead to read how it would end first before committing to finishing it. And I am glad I did, because the author handles the subject matter with a realism and obvious knowledge of experience as well, not how I often see it in fanfic. There are a lot of emotional ups and downs but it’s nice seeing Dean in his momma-hen/mode, and Sam is so so good in this one! I think I enjoyed Sam’s characterization here most of all! And the author has a really cool/well developed angel/wing lore that hit my wing-kink pretty hard. I do think it could have all been edited down a bit - I found myself skimming parts, especially in the last third, just to get on with things. But it’s definitely a story you can disappear into for a good long time and I’ve bookmarked the author’s other works to read later, so again, I do rec it even with a few caveats.

A few shorter fics, too, just because I don’t want to forget about them...

Eleven Erogenous Zones of a Fallen Angel by almaasi (15k) Pure gratuitous wing!kink for me :) Cas uses the last of his grace to manifest his wings...but then is stuck with them in his human form and not even able to use them to fly as he used to. This presents a lot of awkward problems to deal with but also the excuse for Dean to help him keep them clean :) I did say wing kink, right? :D :D I loved how Cas seemed confused about the pleasure signals he got from bathing vs. sex vs. grooming and all of that. It’s sweet and hot and has my favorite kind of caretaking Dean in it.

Fossil Tracks by SegaBarrett  (3k). Dean & Sam & Cas and dinosaurs. How can you go wrong with that? One of the SPN stories from the Id Pro Quo collection I really enjoyed reading (and didn’t write myself, lol).