#so you go the trauma and depression route?

[rubylarkspur22]

Ship Swap(💕)

Me: I need to switch these characters around for them to be in the other's place.

Characters in Question: *Must be placed in a crappy situation, which was caused by their counterparts' family being awful(iykyk)*

Also the Characters in Question: *Have happy, loving families who would never hurt them of their own free will*

Me: I don't wanna make these happy families awful! And the abusive pieces of crap don't deserve to be made nice.

The Gremlin in the Back of my Brain That Likes to See Sunshine Children Suffer and Feeds on Their Pain: K i d n a p

Me: Oh, god, YOU AGAIN?! Must you always make suggestions that lead to my sunshine children (especially Tanjirou) ending up dead, tortured, turned into an "enemy", or any combination thereof?!

Gremlin: Did I stutter? Let the children be kidnapped! Traumatize them, the one isn't going to emotionally stunt himself!

Me: *unimpressed*

[writers-potion]

Writing Mad Characters

Okay this is a bit awkward because I had this question copypasted into Google Docs I use to draft my answers, and I realized I've lost the question in my inbox (which is being flooded).

So...I'm so sorry for whoever asked this question. Sorry for the delay because I was struggling with life in general for the past month and definitely SORRY for losing your question (－‸ლ)

Q: I'm writing a story where a major character is slowly spiraling into madness where small details kinda hint into the downfall right before the bigger details appear and then it the floodgates open. Is there anything I should avoid? Anything that I should keep in mind? Anything that I should research?

Things to Avoid

“Mad” or “Insane” is too general. Writing a cliched ‘crazy’ character who randomly talks to imaginary people and lashes out at strangers, you’ll offend a whole bunch of people who've gone through/have mental illnesses. Read up on existing mental conditions (schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, post-traumatic disorder and borderline personality disorder, etc.) to see what your character might have. 

Words like “mad” “crazy” or “insane” aren’t enough when you’re describing their status. As mentioned, these words hardly mean much when it comes to providing a clear description.

Contradicting yourself. Throwing random unhinged symptoms here and there wouldn’t work. In fact, you must have a clear arc on which they’re traveling and ensure that your “hints” are all getting at something.

Making the character overly destructive or harmful to others (when nothing really justifies it)

Justifying damaging behavior with this “madness”. Mad or not, your character will still have motives and goals that drive them forward. 

Making them look incompetent just the fact that they have a mental condition that makes them appear “mad” to others shouldn’t prevent them from achieving success. In fact, they may be even more cool-hearted and logical when it comes to their obsessions/goals. 

Research Tips

Narrow down the mental conditions your character experiences. Even if it’s a fictional condition, try basing it on existing ones and building on top of them. 

Take some time to study characters and/or real clinical cases that resemble the kind of madness you’re going for. 

- Anxiety Disorders: excessive fear and dread (ex. phobias) - Mood Disorders: persistent swings in mood or persistent feelings that interfere with daily life (ex. Depression, bipolar) - Psychotic Disorders: disordered thinking (ex. schizophrenia) - Eating Disorders: extreme emotional attitudes toward food (ex. Bulimia, anorexia) - Impulse Disorders: unable to resist urges (ex. Kleptomania, pyromania, gambling) - Personality Disorders: extreme inflexible personality traits (ex. Anti-social disorder, OCPD) - Past Traumatic Stress: persistent, frightening memories leading to emotional numbness 

Does your character have empathy?  

A sociopathic kind of madness is different. 

General Writing Tips for Spiraling into Madness

Establish a Baseline 

A lot of factors (stress, family history, innate personality, trauma, etc.) can contribute to madness, but it is not going to happen in a week. Define the existing mental and physical conditions your character has, and start from there. 

If you’re aiming for suicidal tendencies at the end, you want to start with symptoms of depression (a condition that may lead to suicide) - growing apathetic, erratic sleeping patterns, irritability, etc. 

This is also the stage where you want to plant some triggers that’ll go off later.

Trigger Events

A perfectly sound character suddenly spiraling down the madness route due to a single accident or traumatizing event isn’t convincing. 

A madness “snap” denies the reader the experience of watching the character’s journey into madness and how they feel about it. 

Internal Conflict (antagonist in himself) 

You must remember that madness is incurable. If someone could “cure” themselves by eating healthy, exercising and taking a few pills, it wouldn’t be much of a madness, would it? This means that the worst antagonist is going to be the character themselves, or the part of them that’s been taken away. 

Show how they are frustrated with themselves, scared of themselves, angry at their “alternative self”. The experience of not knowing yourself is a whole journey of its own.

Physical Manifestations/Quirks

If your character has a routine, show how they break down. 

They might develop habits that they otherwise would never allow themselves to have, perhaps as an effort to “keep this madness out”

Deteriorating Relationships

Depict how the character’s madness impacts his closed/loved ones. In the earlier stages, those close to him might be faster to notice and accept the signs of madness, even if the character denies it him/herself.

The first signs of madness might show when the character is trying to deal with difficult relationships - like losing patience and being unable to pick up subtle social clues.

Choosing Obsessions Over Primal Urges 

For these characters, obsession can take over a person’s normal urge to eat, sleep or even live. This can lead to, more or less, suicide. 

Example: In Black Swan, Nina’s obsession with becoming the perfect ballerina drive her to insanity, to the point where she doesn't mind dying on stage for the show.

[seirindono]

What are Sloth Sans/Demon Sans Powers; relationships; what is he like in the other runs???

Ok, let's talk about Demon! Sans!

The embodiment of idleness, he's the predator of many emotions and states linked to this sin, such as apathy, depression and resignation.

We've already talked about his use of illusions (music/ hypnosis) to charm and disarm his victims, dreams being his preferred hunting ground, and one his unique ability (your personnal sleep paralysis demon), but he's just as much as a threat in real life!

His preferred strategy is to lower the enemy's stats (DEF, ATK, HP, etc) so he can finish them off with a single strike or, better yet, let their body slowly die while he lulls their soul into an endless dream.

He gradually deprives them of the desire to attack or defend themselves, amplifying the fatigue (physical and psychological) and sense of powerlessness, of helplessness hidden deep in their souls.

If he's in a playful mood or if his victim has upset him, he takes great pleasure in awakening their traumas by peering into their unconscious and projecting nightmarish hallucinations. Making them super aware of their situation is also effective: they can't defeat him, and even if they could or if he decided to spare them, only death and more pain awaits them at the end of their journey, by the hand of another Lord or bc they're litteraly in hell. However, his habit of granting a “peaceful death” is viewed as merciful compared to the other Lords (or cruel and messed up by others)

A word of advice, however, to intruders venturing into his Snowdin territory: if you stumble upon his collection of ice statues or a suspicious pile of snow, keep walking and don't touch anything.

----

I'll focus on the relationships showed here

Gluttony - His brother. He practically raised him and supports him to this day, going so far as to share the territory where they grew up (Snowdin). Demons tend to avoid such close ties, as it can become a weakness, but the Skeleton brothers are a rare exception, having proven time and again their ruthlessness.

Lust - They don't usually interact but Lust suspects he's hiding something from the other Lords. + there was the time he teleported in his sleep onto the set of Lust (live broadcast), putting everyone in the audience to sleep. He doesn't remember but Mettaton might hold a ti~ny grudge.

Pride - A combination of distrust and disapproval of some of the King's past decisions. He remains loyal to him, but doesn't mind the distance between their respective territories.

Wrath (former) - Lord from the past generation. He was close to them and received a lot of help from both him and their skeleton friend. Both disappeared overnight, their names erased from the archives as Undyne took on the now vacant role. He can't openly look for them bc of the King's order, but he assumes they must have found a way to hide somewhere…

Frisk - The kid that somehow managed to become friend with his brother and is now cosplaying as an imp. He has no interest in directly harming them, only playing tricks on them and witness how far they can make it with that puny soul.

---

Other runs:

This part is still a WIP since I've mostly worked on a "neutral route" so far lol Also, Demons are, well, "bad", so the genocide run requires more reflection

Neutral:

Mischievous and willfully neglectful, he tolerates Frisk and the player on his territory, but doesn't go out of his way to help them since his brother is already helping.

Pacifist:

Still playful and unbothered, but Papyrus has told him all about Frisk's adventures and how they became friends with other Demons. He is curious and may appear at randoms moments in the run to help the player (tell them about a secret passage in Waterfall or come and play an instrument for Lust's show and put the whole audience to sleep).

.Gives Frisk a bone instrument (a very tiny violon) to celebrate their friendship and shares some secrets with them, like the origin of the bells on his and his brother's horns and how hell used to be before the Queen left.

Genocide:

Same as neutral until he kills Frisk for the first time. He'll trigger a blizzard on the next playthrough to block the door leading to HOME, trapping the player in the empty ruins to observe their reaction. If the player manages to find another way out (or force their way out), Sloth will appear to them only as illusions, asking what they are and mocking them for thinking they can defeat what is already dead, nonetheless sans is willing to watch them try.

.Observes and creates illusions along the way to hinder Frisk. He reveals that sinners can't escape hell until they're freed from their sins, and that the player will undoubtedly end up in the hands of Pride, the King and Demon who rules over those with egos as big as the player's (=that's why he and the other Lords are just toying with the player, they don't see them as a real threat and nobody wants to double-cross the King anyway).

.He's not that bothered by the actions of the player, they're demons and it's hell after all. He might even enjoy watching this more than the pacifist run at first....

edit:

Hm.... Actually, maybe I should rename these. Something like : Redemption or Sinner route idk the expectations are different from canon UT, Demons are USED to killing and stuff. Even if one of them die, a new demon reappear. No, the real surprise would be if someone tried to do good for once, wouldn't it?

As I said, it's a WIP

PHEW, there you go. That was a lot, enjoy!

[towncritte]

Red Destiny AU Lore Dump

I'm deciding to compile all the lore dumps I did so far on Twitter, into this post.

Stuff is subjected to change in the future, but this post is just to help you guys get bits of the story.

It's still a work in progress AU, and nothing is entirely set in stone but regardless, I do hope this helps.

Here's Dogday's reference sheet and info:

Here is a quick summary of what's going on in this Dimension: The Smiling Critters live in another dimension, which the portal was located in a Toy Factory. The humans entered and started ruling over the place, along with ruling several different towns to have control over the creatures within said dimension.

The story for now mostly focuses on Smiling Valley where the Smiling Critters live.

Due to the humans mostly seeing the Smiling Valley citizens as if they are Zoo Animals or an attraction of sorts, the small town finds it difficult to have supplies and have a tendency to get a shortage.

Most humans visiting aren't aware of the abuse going on done by Scientists that want to study the Critter Citizens as if they are Lab Rats, or the abuse of Soldiers/Guards hungry for a power trip.

That's the summary of the condition of the town so far.

For the most part the story for now will be pretty focused on Dogday and his perspective, as well as the other critters.

Catnap's whereabouts and what he is doing will be a mystery.

I want this AU to feel like an ominous mystery of what's going on.

Here's more lore drop of the pooch:

Declawing Trauma:

Dogday was declawed. Bubba, during Dogday receiving therapy, tried to get as much supplies and knowledge as he can to fix Dogday's hands/paws.

During those 3 years, Dogday couldn't hold things due to how bad the condition of his hands were.

Dogday had to constantly wear bandages and deal with pain for the past 3 years, making his mental recovery difficult, and feeling like a burden to his friends for helping him.

Catnap CONSTANTLY had to reassure Dogday nothing was his fault and would constantly comfort him.

Dogday, despite everything, held onto hope Bubba would restore his claws.

Bubba had to eventually settle for reshaping Dogday's hands to paws so Dogday wouldn't feel so much pain anymore. (He had to use extra bones from Dogday's hands to do this.)

Dogday was depressed about this but overtime did manage to get through therapy without being in so much pain anymore and had to learn to hold things with his newly reshaped paws. (Tho he still has some trauma)

Catnap held a HEAVY grudge against the scientists that hurt Dogday.

These traumatizing events will show how it's affected Day as the story goes.

Dogday does know about The Prototype and what Catnap's been doing. Not fully aware, the Moon is in a cult of sorts hidden outside of town.

Catnap at one point, gave Dogday hope about his claws before he left Smiling Valley as he was called upon by The Prototype:

Catnap wasn't being malicious when he showed them off, he just wanted to give Dogday a reason to support his beliefs. Catnap wasn't declawed, but he was given much deadlier claws.

Speaking of Catnap, here's his beta ref sheet:

In the future, I'll make him a colored reference sheet once I have this AU organized.

Dogday's eyes:

When Day's eyes would be fading back to white, Mini Moon immediately tells Day to go home and sleep. He then administers the red smoke again.

GORE WARNING!

Dogday developing violent tendencies:

At some point, Dogday starts to develop violent urges due to the Plush's manipulation and mind warping.

(Since I DO NOT plan to rip off Dogday's legs EVER! I'm going with this route as a nod to what happened in the game, but its in reverse)

This is so far the lore dump of the AU. I'll look back at this in the future as I continue the story to see how I can tie things together, or what to change or what I like or don't like.

If you don't understand this, it's okay.

Again, this is just a lore dump post to understand the AU so far in it's Work In Progress stage.

And to help me read over stuff and see what I can do with it.

Again, stuff is subjected to change, including designs. So nothing is entirely permanent.

I made the Plush Delivery comic back on Twitter originally as a one off in it's old version. But over time, I liked the concept so much I started forming it into a story and redid Plush Delivery.

I do hope you'll enjoy wherever Red Destiny's story will go.

Who knows what lies ahead for the red path the pooch is following.

" A red destiny awaits you Sunshine….are you ready?" -Catnap

Thank goodness, I'm done writing this all down. xnx

[aurawra21]

Is there anything about the flipside you liked? My favourite thing about it was the sharing trauma ending and it is my headcanon ending for the series as it shows how Nicole is good for Jecka and is in character to how Nicole bullied jeffery to get in trouble with the pedo just to Jecka could smoke in peace.

yes, there are parts i liked!

I liked the route where we saw Jecka's pov when Nicole committed. i wanted it so badly like i wanted to know her side of it b/c those texts messages from the previous game had me spiraling. Jecka going to Nicole because she didn't feel safe at home or at school. Nicole wanting Jecka to hangout with her more so she doesnt have to hangout with other people who make her depressed, quite literally BEGGING her bc she's her only real friend:

like, the two of them at their lowest just wanted to be around each other. they both sought each other out bc they needed each other so bad

i liked the Jecka and Kelly dynamic, they were funny af trying to figure that riddle out, they just wanted their paychecks uwu, we do not talk about the ending

i liked that in the ending where jeffery d!es, Jecka is literally like, people may hate Nicole but she's kind of necessary to me, in a fucked up way, she helped me, the little smiley face she put at the end was cute, despite the context

the little gay comments they would make, ex: "but will you be my girlfriend after?"

Jecka having kissed Ari AND Kelly is like yes ty i know she's a girl kisser but more confirmation never hurt

Emo Jecka route and we get passenger princess Nicole, like we KNEW THAT but i love the confirmation. like, it's funny that even in that moment, no matter how drunk out of her mind Jecka is, Nicole is nOT giving up her passenger princess rights. a passenger princess that backseat drives Jecka LMFAO

anyway yeah, there were stuff i liked. this is how i played the first games anyway, take what i liked and run with it!

[luciferlightbringer]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 4

Thanks again to all of my readers and new followers! I get more excited with every chapter. Here is Chapter 4! (Chapter 5 already basically done because the brainrot is so bad rn. Should I make the simps wait or should I post it tomorrow?) xoxo, Dany <3

Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Updated through Chapter 12

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 4.2k CW: Slowburn, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, cuddles, depression, anxiety, family drama

Before long, you were back in the same black car again on the way to see Lucifer, a little more nervous and excited than you were last time. The last week felt both slow and quick at the same time. It was weird having something that you kinda looked forward to, instead of just living day to day in the torturous monotony that you had gotten used to in your short time in hell.

You wore your same jacket from the last time, but beneath you opted for a soft, baby blue, crop-top sweater and tightly fitting, black pants, with some more simple lingerie underneath. You dressed more simple and comfortable this time because you did not expect it to go in a sexual route, but your outfit was still alluring if that was the route he wanted to go down. It is the type of outfit that might get some confused looks from Larry and the other girls, but since it was all covered by a jacket, no one commented on it as you made your way out of the Lounge. You still did your makeup and hair the same though, even though it felt a little over the top for the type of setting you anticipated for the night.

You made a little more effort to strike up a conversation with the driver this time, both to give you something to focus on, and to be nice since he would most likely be making this route more regularly, and because you always tried to be nice to people in the types of jobs that were more likely to get ignored or yelled at. At least on Earth. You could tell the driver was not much of a talker, but he still reciprocated in light conversation.

Soon you arrived once again at the big, beautiful manor, and the driver escorted you up the stairs to the front door. This time, you were surprised to see Lucifer standing in the hallway, about 20 feet in from the doorway, waiting for you. As you entered, you saw a warm nervous smile form across his face, and he started to walk towards you as you handed your coat to the driver as you had done before.

"Welcome back," he said, now standing before you, a glimmer of joy in his eyes. "It's good to see you again."

You smiled back at him, "It's good to see you again too. I hope you have been doing well since our last encounter?" you ask with warm curiosity in your eyes.

"Yes, I have, thank you" Lucifer responded. Lucifer had started to look over you again, still the same person as last time, but something felt different about you. Your outfit and form was still as attractive as last time, but it was more simple, comforting, even the way your face looked was softer. Everything about the person you were now in front of him felt like a softer, less sharp version of yourself than the one that he had first laid eyes upon a week prior. Even the energy of your words felt different. Like the sharp bite of sensuality and dominance that had lingered on every word that had escaped your lips previous, now felt sanded down to something more soft and warm, like the way sharp rocks turned to sand after enduring the constant crashing of the waves.

He held out one of his black hands to you and you took it, and he pulled your hand up to his lips, and gave a soft kiss on your knuckles. His lips were soft against your skin, and your skin was soft against his lips. Both of you felt little butterflies in your stomachs from the contact, but you both just gave the other a smile.

Lucifer once again escorted you up to his room, talking a little bit more about each other's week. You let Lucifer do most of the talking since he was the customer and, besides, you did not really like to talk about work. Pretty much all you did besides work, was sleep and hang out with one or two of the girls that you had become close with at the Lounge.

You both arrived in Lucifer's room and he turned to close the door. He then sighed and allowed his posture to slouch. He turned back to look at you, his expression now full of sadness and... guilt? What just happened? He was chatting and laughing up a storm just a minute ago? He looked up at you, nervously fiddling with his cane.

"I... uhhh... I wanted to apologize for last time," he said before looking back at the floor. Apologize? For what?

"I just... I don't know what happened. Something set me off and... it was really scary... It had nothing to do with you. Its my stuff... I'm not used to that happening around other people. And I'm not used to crying that much... especially not in front of people...," he covered his face with his hands and took in a jagged breath.

'Was he really apologizing for having a panic attack and then crying at receiving comfort?' You heart ached to see this gentle angelic creature full of so much pain in front of you. It also made you angry, but now was not the time for that. Without another thought you closed the gap between the two of you, pulling him in and wrapping him a soft embrace.

Lucifer flinched at the sudden embrace, peaking out from behind his hands, looking up at you with eyes that were already on their way to forming more tears.

"Listen to me. I don't normally tell people what they can and can't do, but you will not apologize to me for crying, feeling bad, needing comfort, or anything of that sort in my presence... Do you understand me?" you say softly but sternly as you hold him.

Lucifer remained frozen in your arms, processing your words, as more tears started to well up in his eyes.

"I am not going to stand here and pretend that I know what you are going through, but I know what it's like to feel alone, unseen, and to want for once to have someone listen to me or just fucking hold me. So please..." You open your arms a little, move his hands away from his face, and tip Lucifer's face up to look at you. "If this helps, which, does it?"

Lucifer gives you a soft nod as you hold up his chin as he gives you a soft, sad 'mhmm', his eyes swimming with sorrow and joy.

"Then don't you ever fucking apologize to me. Got it?" you whisper to him.

He nodded, as the dam that was holding back this next round of tears broke. He buried his head against the soft skin of your neck and melted into you as he sobbed. Through some of the sobs he tried to talk and explain things that had happened before, but it was hard to understand through the hard breathing and hicks of air between the sobs. You softly shushed him and told him that you did not have to try to tell it all to you now.

After a few minutes, he calmed down enough for you to ask if he wanted to get more comfortable so that you did not have to put him to bed in his suit clothes again if he ended up falling asleep again. He said he wasn't going to fall asleep again, but he agreed that snuggling up to you in more comfortable clothes would be nice also you did not trust that he would not fall asleep again.

He changed into a baggy sweater and some sweatpants and walked back into the room to see you sitting on the edge of his bed. You smiled and giggled to yourself as he walked back in the room. You never expected to see the King of Hell looking so casual, he looked so sweet and innocent, especially in a sweater that looked a little too big for him. He crossed his arms and pouted as you laughed.

"What's so funny?" he said, raising an eyebrow. You suddenly realize how your laugh may have some off to someone who most likely harbors some level of self esteem issues beneath his normal vailed charismatic character.

"Oh! I'm sorry. You just look really cute," you say with a sheepish smile. "it's just... not a look that I ever imagined you in."

A blush ripped across Lucifer's cheeks. He loved compliments but still didn't expect them from you, especially with how blunt they were. But he figured it was probably something you did a lot. He walked over to a record player that was against one of the walls of his room, and put on a record to play in the background. Its sounded like... Swan Lake? Or something close to it. Did they actually know about Swan Lake in hell?

You both talked about where he wanted you to be, and you moved to sit over the spot where Lucifer normally slept, and sat criss-cross. You looked at Lucifer, opening you arms to him as an invitation. Lucifer crawled up onto the bed and curled up into your lap with his head against your chest. You arms enveloped him again as your warm body heat made him melt into you again.

Everything about you felt so gentle and plush, you had a soft scent about you, kinda like... what was it... Lavendar and Shea Butter? Something like that. Your sweater was soft too. He missed the dress you wore last week, but that would have just turned him on and that was not what he was wanting right now. He still enjoyed your simple beauty, and appreciated that it seemed you had understood his cryptic message he had told your boss.

"So, it seems my message to you got through ok?" he asked sleepily.

"It did," you replied softly smiling down at him.

"And you are ok this this? You won't get in trouble for doing this instead of sexual things, right?" he asked, looking up with sleepy concern.

You ran card your fingers through his hair, "No, mostly because it's no ones business what I do on house calls, as long as you are happy."

Right, because its what the customer wants. Something about that made his chest tighten, but he let it go. The 'why' of the situation didn't matter right now, he felt cared for and that's what he needed right now.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, outside of the gentle music that played in the background, for some time. For how long, you had no idea, but every moment was bliss. You watched as Lucifer shed a few more tears in the comfort of your arms, his breathing started to slow and his eyelids started to grow heavy. Then you felt him shift and look up at you.

"Oh, I had a question..." Lucifer said, half asleep.

"What's up?" you said, god he was so cute when he was fighting back sleep.

"How much... is too much?" he asked with half open eyes.

You looked at him confused, "How much is too much, what?"

"Time," he said, "Time with you?"

You were starting to understand the question a little more, "Like tonight?"

He shook his head, "No like... nights, amount of nights."

"Oh! Like how often can you request for me to come over?" you say.

He nods as his head laid back down on you chest.

"As often as you would like," you say softly with a chuckle, running your fingers through his hair again.

Lucifer thought for a second and hummed at the sensation of your fingers in his hair, "Like... two or three times a week? I don't wanna be... weird and ask for too much." He was trying so hard to finish his thoughts and stay awake.

"It's cute that you would think I would find anything weird. But yes, two or three times a week is fine. You will just have to let Larry though so that I don't get scheduled with anyone else, ok?"

He nodded, and his eyelids fell heavy. A few minutes later, Lucifer was once again asleep in your arms. It seemed as if it was really important for him to ask that question before he fell asleep.

Once again, you took a few minutes to look at his sleeping face, so soft and peaceful. You were glad that tonight seemed to work out better than last time. You were so curious as to what pains it was that plagued his mind. I'm sure some of it had to do with the whole 'fallen angel' thing, but the way he reacted to intimacy felt like it held something deeper. He hoped he would tell you at some point as you are allowed to continue to be there for him, but that was for him to decide, and you needed to be careful. Lucifer held the power in the dynamic, one wrong move, and the relationship would be snuffed out. You wanted to make sure you did everything to make sure that did not happen too soon. You knew this dynamic could never last forever, but something about him made you want to be there, to help him feel better in this small way that it seems you had started to, for him, and, selfishly, a little bit for yourself.

It was time, and soon you slipped out from under him, and tucked him in as you had done the previous time. You wrote out another small note, letting him know that he can request for you 2 or 3 times a week, because you didn't trust that his sleepy memory would have held onto that conversation super well, and you left it on his bedside table again before leaving for the night. The driver was prepared this time to make sure you got paid for the night before you left the car.

Lucifer would wake up the next morning, feeling fluttery and rested again, to find your note again on the bedside table. He would immediately call to schedule his next few appointments. He didn't want to have to fight anyone for his time with you.

_____________________________________________________________

Over the next several weeks, you and Lucifer would meet up your agreed upon 2 to 3 nights a week, it ended up normally being close to every other night, and you were perfectly fine with that. You enjoyed having half of your evenings being more chill, less sex oriented than your other nights of work, and after a while, it almost felt like it wasn't work at all. More like... hanging out with a friend who just happened to pay for your time. Sometimes that made you feel guilty, but that was your job, he never said anything about it, and it gave you some level of protection in case something ever did go wrong.

You gradually started do less and less with your hair and makeup when you would go over, or you would just clean it off in the car or at Lucifer's place. Lucifer liked getting to see your natural facial features, but he never told you that directly. Every time you would walk in the door, Lucifer felt like the worries of his life would almost cease to exist, things felt more tolerable, even the pains of his past.

It took a few more nights before Lucifer could get past the hug turning into tears and cuddles until he fell asleep, but eventually he did. He didn't realize just how starved for affection he was until you starting coming around, and over time he felt the desperation for it that would send him into tears start to wane and become more tolerable. He still always feel asleep, but then again, you always stayed up late with him. Plus, he mentioned that he normally struggled to fall asleep on his own, and the nights with you made the sleep come much more easily.

The sessions of crying turned into nights of hanging out, having dinner, being introduced to his study full of ducks, helping him try to organize the ducks so that he could actually use his office a little more, playing board games, watching tv, and telling stories, including stories about Lucifer's past.

The first one started after he off-handedly mentioned needing to text Charlie.

"Who is Charlie?" you asked one night while you guys ate dinner on the couch while watching a show.

Lucifer slumped a little in his seat, and started to fidget with his phone, "She... well... she's my daughter."

Charlie Morningstar. Ugh, duh. You definitely knew he had a daughter. It was just surprising that he had not spoken at all about her. Lilith she could understand him not wanting to talk about, but why not Charlie? She was still in hell, and very active in its community.

"Oh right! I heard something on the news a few months ago about her... running a hotel of some kind, right? I don't remember much about it" you said. You remembered people at the brothel making fun of her for a couple of days because of a really awkward pitch she had made about it on the news, but that was a while ago, and of course you wouldn't tell Lucifer that.

Lucifer continued to mess with his phone, not looking up at you, "Uhh, ya... something like that... I'm not really sure," he sighed, "We don't talk much..."

You think for a minute, wanting to choose your next words carefully, "Why not?"

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply.

"I'm sorry, we don't-" you start to say.

"No no, its fine, its just... hard. Umm... Our family... used to be the best thing in the world, Lilith, Charlie, and I. We were… so happy, I had the best girls in the nine circles by my side. But I was busy, being the King and what-not, so I did not get as much time with Charlie. Lilith mostly took care of her, raised her, and Charlie grew up kinda distanced from me. I... barely know that much about her, especially now, and the stuff she does tell me, doesn't seem to fucking stick in my brain half the time, and I just feel like I'm a deadbeat father who just calls her to ask her to do things for me sometimes and I-" he stopped and sucked in a long breath, then exhaled. He could tell he was starting to talk fast and get really upset, and he didn't want that. He never talked about this part of his life with anyone and he really wanted to tell you, because with you he actually felt safe enough to talk about it.

He finally turned to look at you, "When Lilith left me 7 years ago, I felt like I lost any basic connection I had with Charlie... because she is so much closer with her mother. I... I want to talk to her, I want to know her... I just... I don't know how... I thought I used to but now... I'm just broken and useless to her..." Lucifers eyes slid back down to his lap and covered his face with his hands.

You looked at Lucifer for a minute, before opening you arms to invite him into your lap, as you usually did when he started to get sad again. Lucifer looked up at you, and soon crawled into your lap.

"I think, the next time you get the chance, try to ask her what she has been up to, how she is doing, maybe see if she wants to hang out or something? I'm sure she misses you too, maybe wants to get to know you too but also does not know how to start that conversation either. That's how I would feel about it anyway." you say as you stroke his hair.

"Why, so I can embarrass her and prove to her in person that I am a loser, deadbeat father? A walking trash pile of a person?" he pouted with a sniffle.

"Lucifer Morningstar," you say sternly looking down at him. You felt him flinch as you use his full name. "You stop that right now, that is not true and you are only hurting yourself and getting in your own way. You aren't doing anything to fix the problem if you don't at least try."

Lucifer groaned and pouted as he laid against your chest, "But it's scary though."

"Yes, and you are the King of Hell. You are apparently to scariest being in all of creation, and you are going to pout and cry into my chest and tell me you are scared of... trying to talk to your daughter?" you say with some sass.

Lucifer laid silently in you chest for a minute, starting to fidget with the soft fabric of your sweater, "Well... when you put it that way..."

"I make sense? I know, I'm a genius," you say with a sarcastic tone, "Look, if you try and she brushes you away, that's one thing. But you don't know if you don't try, ok?"

Lucifer continued to pout in you lap before giving you a begrudging "ok..."

"Good, I'm sure a good opportunity will arise at some point for you to try. I'm here for you when or if you need support around that," you reward him by nuzzling the top of his head and playing with his hair as you went back to watching your show. You felt Lucifer soften and purr as he enjoyed the sensory of you playing with his hair until, you guessed it, he fell asleep on your lap.

______________________________________________________________

Well, it did not take long for your little conversation to move into action. A couple weeks later, while at work, Larry came running in to find you in the mid-afternoon after one of your in-house sessions, a bit of urgency in his walk and face as he approached you.

"Babydoll! Change of plans to your schedule today, 'Lance' requested your start time be moved earlier and he said money was no object, so I'm cuttin' you loose to be with him for the rest of the day. Sounded like he was desperate for you today," said Larry in a hurry, but adding a little wiggle of his brows to the end of his statement.

That didn't sound good. Did something happen to him? "Uh, ok, no problem. How long until the car comes?"

Larry looked at his watch, "Five minutes."

Five minutes?! What the fuck Lucifer?!

You ran up to your room, got changed into more casual clothes, threw on your jacket, and ran out the down. Cynthhhhia tried to snark something at you on your way out the door, something about where you were going off in such a hurry with a bare face, but you didn't pay her any mind as you ran outside.

You saw the car and jumped into it, only to be surprised to see Lucifer sitting in the back of the car greeting you with a nervous smile.

"Lucifer!" you say after you close the door to that car, "Are you ok?! What's going on, you have never requested me early before. What is happening?!" You looked over him, nothing seemed to be physically wrong, he looked ok, just really nervous and... sweating a little?

Lucifer fidgeted nervously with his cane as he smiled at you, "Well, uhhh... Funny story! So, uh... Charlie called me, and... said she needed my help with something involving her hotel, and she invited me over, and I said yes!"

"Great!" you beamed, but you were still confused, you waited for the next part of the statement, but he just remained sitting with the big nervous smile on his face. "So... what does that have to do with me?"

Lucifer messed with his collar, "Well... uhhh... I said yes, and then I got off the phone, and I mayyyyy have started freaking out a little, and I did not want to go over there by myself, so I wanted to bring someone with me, and all I could think of who I could trust was you. So I called your boss, bought out your time for the rest of the day at double your usual price and now you are coming with me to see my daughter... right now." Lucifer sped through before ending with a big, very nervous smile.

Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell, had hired you, his regular prostitute, to go with him to see his estranged daughter that he had not really talked to in years, in public, at her hotel?!

Oh my fucking god.

_____________________________________________________________

As usual, leave a comment if you want added to the taglist so that you can get notifications when future chapters drop!

Taglist: @froggybich @wonderlandangelsposts @glowinthedarkbones1150 @marydragneell @crescent-z @superdinosaurnacho @jam0001 @kyo-kyo1 @so-get-this-sammy @lilzebeth

[norrisjpg]

scott street - ᴍᴠ¹

in which, the pressure of the 2024 formula 1 season becomes too much for the dutch driver, so instead of leaning on his best friend for support, he pushes her away.

contains: angst, swearing, crying, unresolved conflict, unhappy ending, shouting, mentions of childhood trauma, depression, jos verstappen mentioned (ew), a gilmore girls reference, not proof-read.

max verstappen x unnamed female character

...

...

she thought something was off, something wasn't right - and she was correct.

it was right after the belgian grand prix, after max had lost another win through no fault of his own, after mclaren had gained a few more points on his beloved oracle red bull racing.

she was there, she always had been, waiting for him after the race like she always did. although she had prepared herself, nothing could have prepared her for this.

he knew he needed her, but he was just so wound up, so tired of the shitty car, so done with the team that he couldn't even bring himself to look at her when he walked into his driver's room.

"hey, are you okay?" she asked softly, standing up with the dutchman entered the room, his usual sadness replaced with something else - he was fuming. "max?"

"i'm fine." he mumbled, discarding his helmet carelessly to the floor.

"do you want to talk about it?" her voice was somewhat comforting, but nowhere near enough to calm the pure rage bubbling in his chest.

"no." max sighed, refusing to turn around and look at his best friend.

she nodded, not that he could see her, but it was more of a nod to herself. okay, he doesn't want to talk, that's okay. but she also wondered if he knew it wasn't his fault, because he couldn't help a ten-place grid penalty brought on by his team, and he certainly couldn't help that the mercedes were exceptionally quick today and being held up by cars he was lapping wasn't helping him either - it just wasn't his fault.

of course, she knew he'd be annoyed about his race - but that wasn't the route of his emotions, his father was. max had obviously told her about the traumatic events of his childhood, long after they'd happened, although she was around when most of them took place.

however, she didn't bring it up.

"max?" she spoke quietly, her voice a little airy. "it's not your fault, you know that, yeah?"

"i know it's not my fucking fault." he spat back quickly.

"come on, max, please talk to me." she pried a little more. "it hurts to see you like this."

"oh, it hurts you?" he scoffed, finally turning around to look at her, anger ever-so-present in his pretty eyes. "how the fuck do you think it makes me feel? you always manage to make everything about you, don't you? just can't stand the attention being away from you for just one fucking second, can you?"

it took everything in her to not physically recoil at his words - he'd never ever been like this, and she wasn't going to lie, her heart shattered at his cold attitude toward her. she was only trying to help him and he was acting like this.

"nothing to say, huh?" he almost laughed, but there was nothing resembling a smile on his face. "you know what? just get out."

"sorry?" was all she could muster, an expression of hurt confusion on her face.

"you heard me, leave." he repeated it, squashing her hopes that he was just angry and didn't mean it, that he'd apologise and lay in her arms and just tell her how he really felt.

she got up, putting her phone back in her pocket, glancing over at him to see that he'd turned back to desk, fiddling with something on there.

hearing the door shut behind her was confirmation of what he'd just done - why the fuck did he do that?

head in his hands, he slumped down on the couch, already missing her presence. clearly, max hadn't meant any of that, but it was like word vomit. he felt as if he was floating outside of his body, watching him shove his best friend away, and he couldn't do anything about it.

outside, she stood there, motionless. what the fuck had just happened? gritting her teeth, delicate tears fell down her cheeks as she started to walk out of the red bull garage in aimless despair.

maybe if she hadn't said anything he wouldn't have lashed out of her? did she pry too much? why wouldn't he just talk to her?

"ah, good afternoon." a familiar voice came from behind her as she stood in the paddock, unsure of what to do with herself.

daniel ricciardo.

"oh, hi daniel." she thumbed away the salty tears and sniffled before she turned around - but it was no use, daniel caught on straight away.

"what's wrong?" he furrowed his eyebrows, putting a hand on her shoulder.

she knew there was no point in lying, daniel would get it out of her eventually. "max kinda... blew up at me? told me that i make everything about me and then told me to leave- don't say anything to him though."

"you know i can't promise that, but are you okay?" he shook his head, mentally noting to bring that up with max in the near future.

"i'm not sure."

...

a pretty afternoon in monaco had brought about a lunch between max verstappen and daniel ricciardo. a whole week had passed since the incident, and neither had spoken to each other - both absolutely terrified of what the other would say.

max was scared that she'd push him away, the same way he did. she was scared that max didn't want her back.

the reality was, max needed help - he needed her back. since his outburst, things had gone downhill. the car wasn't looking as good as he'd hoped in the factory, one of his cats was ill, and someone had rear-ended his car somehow - it was as if the universe was screaming at him to just apologise to her, get in his car and go to her apartment, tell her he didn't mean any of it and then finally tell her how he really felt - but max verstappen had fallen deaf, clearly.

luckily, daniel ricciardo hadn't.

"max, what is going on with you?" he asked as the two sat on the bench, slightly hot from the round of padel they'd just played.

"what?" he scrunched his nose at the australian, glancing at him briefly.

"you." daniel repeated. "you're drinking way more than usual, i'm the only person you've seen other than for work purposes, and then you pushed your best friend away - god, why did you push her away?"

"how the fuck do you know about that?" max snapped, quickly apologising with a look afterward. "sorry, how do you know about that, though?"

"she was crying in the paddock after the race." he nodded, pursing his lips. "told me what you said."

"i didn't mean to, okay? i miss her. i know i shouldn't have said what i said, but i can't undo it. i just... i'm scared- what if this is it? what if she won't take me back this time?"

"max." daniel said firmly. "i promise you, that girl will always take you back - you could kill someone and she'd still stand by your side."

"what have i done, daniel?"

...

she was more okay than she thought she was going to be. monday evenings were always reserved for max - dinners, movie nights, whatever they decided to do, it was together.

this monday night was different though.

there wasn't the familiar dutch laughter bouncing around her apartment. there wasn't the delicious smell of home-cooked food lingering in the corridor. there wasn't the colour of freshly bought tulips adding to her plain white kitchen (max always gave her pretty flowers when he came over.) and there certainly wasn't the comforting smell of max's aftershave stuck on her cushions anymore.

it had been three weeks and no word from him.

maybe it was time to move on. maybe he wasn't coming back this time.

she decided early on that it was his decision to return - he was the one who pushed her away so why should she make an effort? in no way was she saying it was for the better, but she was... relatively okay. yes, of course there were things she missed about him - no one wanted to do anything on a monday evening apparently.

so, she spent her monday evenings alone, drowning herself in blankets and fast food, watching some movie that she would never even the end of of - because she fell asleep every time, without fail.

so she did move on.

max on the other hand? he was moving backwards - rapidly.

he thought he was borderline depressed. rotting in his apartment with his cats, occasionally venturing out of the house to buy food or see daniel and lando - but that was it. it was as if all the life had been sucked out of his existence - all the colour, all the light.

so, when he turned up to her apartment on a rainy monday evening, it was a knife to the heart, to the head, to the gut.

he walked into the lobby, planning on going straight up to her and confessing every single feeling he'd had since that dreadful day in belgium.

but, he was met with an unexpected sight. there she was, smiling, with a man.

she was laughing, with him. they were walking towards her apartment, about to head into the elevator. if they were on normal terms, max would have waltzed right up to her and asked who he was - but he didn't have that privilege anymore, remember?

so, he turned around, shocked and almost reduced to tears, and he left.

if only he knew, she would have run to him in a heartbeat.

but, maybe it was for the better.

...

coming next... novacane, ʟɴ⁴ motion sickness, ᴍᴠ¹ (part two)

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Final Word Count: 22.6k

Author's Note: Ta-da! I put a lot of work into this last chapter, like actually becoming the president for a couple hours, but I really wanted to make it worth everyone's time for sticking around and reading all the way through.

Thank you so much for following along! All the sweet comments from you guys never fails to make my day!

^//v//^

Cross posted on AO3

The Reveal

Almost three months.

It took almost three months for Leon's portrait to fully dry after it had been varnished. You'd checked it almost daily after the two month mark due to Leon's constant pestering. He was understandably antsy, and admittedly, you were too.

There was a lot of convincing involved, but you managed to keep the man at home while you transported the painting to the White House. He worried it would be damaged en-route. Such a little worry wart.

Setting up the painting's respective spot a column away from Chris and Claire's seemed very appropriate; tall, fake bushes sitting on either side of where it would be placed, a warm yellow bulb lighting up the inside of the decorative archway, and the patterned golden frame where the canvas would forever be now hung empty in that portrait hallway, waiting to be pieced together and completed.

The shiny gold placard had already been screwed onto the frame, words zapped on it via laser:

Leon S. Kennedy

USSTRATCOM Agent from 1998 - 2011

D.S.O. Agent from 2011 - 2017

You knew how long he'd been working as an agent, but it was still baffling nonetheless. Nearly 20 years of non-stop intense and usually very traumatizing work, what a feat.

Moving on, you'd worked out the plans for Leon's farewell party with the President and a few coordinators over the span of a few days, making sure to store the painting in a secure room for the time being. It was to stay covered with a violet piece of velvet cloth up until the reveal at the party, no one was allowed to see it besides you, the President, and the various security guards working the grounds.

After another two extra months of waiting, the farewell party was drawing near. There had to be enough time given for invitations to be sent out to people, wait for said people to RSVP, and allow travel time. And at this point, Leon was busting at the seams; extremely nervous, excited, and even a little scared at the prospect of it all.

Your words from that second painting session all those months ago never left his mind: "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

The man clung to that, doing his best to internalize it and mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He was hoping you were exaggerating, but from what Chris, Claire, and even Jill have told him about their experience after the fact, he knew deep down that you'd seen it all too well before.

What Leon failed to realize was that he wasn't alone anymore. Sure he had his friends to help, but he'd never had someone to come home to everyday.

During the last few sessions, he had asked to stay with you at your apartment, citing the potential aftermath of the party as reasoning. However, you really didn't need him to explain his reasoning, you would've let him. Even if he just felt like it, you would've welcomed him with opened arms.

Besides, he'd already been staying at your place for longer periods of time over the months. You'd visited his house a few times, but he made sure to whine and complain about how bare and boring it was. If you remember correctly, Leon had said, word for word, that your apartment "felt like a warm hug". With that, he shelled up with you in only a couple weeks before the painting had dried. He made special effort to learn your routine, wanting to give you the space that you needed while also maximizing his time spent with you.

Leon was an actual angel, you were wholeheartedly convinced. Some days you would come home after working on another painting to the man cooking dinner, having bought an expensive wine to share with you. When your hands would start to ache and your back and shoulders were sore from the long hours spent holding a paintbrush in an awkward hunched position, he would set aside anything he had going on just to give you all the massages, kisses, and love that you could ever want.

Nothing was ignored when it came to you and your wants and needs. Leon admitted awhile back that he felt guilty for intruding on your space, though you were very quick to shut that down. He was far from a burden, actually lining up more with a dream come true.

And just like he did with you, you spared nothing while getting to know the in's and out's of the man that occupied your mind, heart, and home. You learned his favorite meals, watched his favorite shows and movies with him, returning the massages when he would return from the gym, and paid extra attention to how he liked to be held at night. Who would've guessed that the Leon Kennedy loved to be the little spoon?

What you spent the most time on was making sure to listen when he suddenly went on tangents about his past. They really did haunt him. You would wake up in the middle of the night to him huddled at the top of the bed, arms wrapped around his legs and head between his knees as he did his best to cry quietly. All you could do for him in those moments was pull him against your chest, gently rocking him back and forth while whispering sweet nothings, just until he felt either ready to talk or ready to fall back asleep. If he just wanted more comfort, then that's what he got, obviously.

He was only recently put on a couple medications to help him better manage his PTSD and anxiety since he really had to cut back on the alcohol in order to take them the way he needed. Definitely worth it to both you and him seeing as his nightmares lessened in intensity and frequency.

Now here you were, straightening out Leon's tie for him since his hands were failing him, nerves getting the better of him. He had taken his meds a few minutes ago, wanting to have the full effect during the party to combat any destructive behaviors during it, so it was no wonder his hands were still trembling.

"You're going to do so well, Leon." You smiled, giving him a gentle pat between his pecs after tucking his tie into his suit jacket. He was staring straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed with worry as he stared at himself in the mirror. "You've made so much progress and I couldn't be any prouder."

He licked his dry lips before slowly looking down at you, giving you the best smile he could, which was really just him pulling his lips back tight. If it weren't for you constantly being around to encourage him and push him to get better, he would not be able to attend his own farewell party.

How had he managed to get so far without this level of love and care? Where would he even be without you? Hopefully later when his mind isn't racing a million miles per minute, Leon will be able to tell you just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

Leon watched you in the mirror as you walked around to stand behind him, straightening out his suit jacket in random spots until deciding to just wrap your arms around his midriff, pressing the side of your face against his back with a content sigh. He brought his still-trembling hands up to hold onto your arms, rubbing his thumbs up and down across your soft skin.

His eyes settled back on his own face after staring at your arms linked around him, letting out a shaky sigh of his own as he attempted to just focus on this moment. You were perfect, ethereal, a true work of art. He wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

It took some time, about an hour, before Leon's medication was starting to kick in. You were definitely a big help, he couldn't give all the credit to his meds.

His relaxed demeanor wasn't easy to spot, the man was just naturally rigid, but you waited until he let you know that he was ready; ready to go to his farewell party, ready to see the portrait you painted for him, ready to put in the effort into accepting the next chapter in his life.

The drive to the White House was seamless, having been picked up in a blacked out SUV that held four personal guards, courtesy of the President. Leon wasn't going to complain, he actually kind of liked the pampering effect that came with being driven around by a dedicated entourage.

Almost all good feelings were drained from Leon when the car finally pulled up to the front of the White House where more guards stood waiting to escort the two of you inside. It was still early in the night, but the sun had set long ago, making for quite the beautiful atmosphere.

He could see numerous party attendees walking up the stairs, dressed up in their fanciest outfits for him. He held your hand the entire way up the stairs and into the entrance hall with a grip that was sure to leave your hand hurting. No matter, you could tell he needed you. That vice grip he had was well worth it for his comfort.

There were quite a few more people than either you or Leon expected. It seems as if all available agents, young, old, and retired, had been sent an invitation for tonight, along with quite a few high-ranking government workers. Luckily, this was a private event; no reporters, no news, only those who had been fortunate enough to be invited.

The first to spot you two was Chris who quickly made his way over to pull Leon into a bone-crushing hug, giving him a few solid pats on the back before letting go. Leon only reciprocated the hug with one hand, the other refusing to let go of yours, though his grip had loosened by now.

"Where's Claire?" Leon muttered, leaning to the side to scan over the sizeable crowd. "She's.." Chris turned around to also scan the crowd, squinting a bit as he looked. "She's somewhere. My wife is with her, her family, and Jill."

Leon pursed his lips with a curt nod, humming quietly in acknowledgement before standing straight again. He glanced down at where his hand held yours, squeezing it again for just a second as if to remind himself that you haven't gone anywhere.

Chris had turned back around to see the small gesture Leon gave to you, a coy smirk on his face. "What uhh... what's all this, huh?" He subtly pointed between you and the other man, voice lowered.

Leon cleared his throat and looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear despite the volume in the hall. "... M'gonna save that for the-.. the speech." Chris just nodded, crossing his arms before slowly turning to look through the crowd again. "Alright, well, let me go find the family and bring them over before you're swarmed." And with that, Chris made his way back into the crowd.

Unfortunately, Leon had been spotted by the rest of the partygoers before Chris could return with everyone. Many pleasantries were repeated while also returning small talk with the people he recognized, which was a lot. You managed to avoid most of it, only being questioned a few times due to the rather obvious hold the man had on you. Despite having attended the last few parties like this, most people unable to recognize you as the artist. A blessing and a curse.

The next couple hours were spent eating finger foods, conversing with whoever, and enjoying the way Leon started to flow with the event. He soon found his way to Chris, Claire, their partners and kids, and Jill which really helped him loosen up. He needed the more familiar faces, having now let go of your hand fully to talk more animatedly with them. You made sure to stick by his side as long as you could, letting out a soft laugh every time you noticed his quick glances over to you to check if you're still there.

The time eventually did come for you to part with Leon, signaling a couple guards to follow you down a few hallways until reaching the room where the portrait sat, still covered with the violet cloth. The decision to keep it back here for so long was made by the President, wanting less of a sudden reveal and more of a build up.

Normally it would already be hanging in the entrance hall, covered and ready to be revealed, but not wanting to risk any potential damage, you were asked to hold off bringing it in until the President was ready to give the speech leading up to Leon's.

It'd been set in the golden frame rather quickly with the help from one of the guards that walked down with you. You had the guard to hold it up for you so you could give it one final good look before he was instructed to lead you back. After recovering, you took the portrait in both hands, holding it close as you were escorted back through the halls and into the main entrance hall.

By now everyone had directed their focus closer to the center of the back wall. Next to where the President stood, your own art easel was now set up. That was mostly as homage to you and it wasn't like anyone besides you would understand that it's yours, though Leon did pick up on that little feature. He'd been staring at the back of that thing for months, counted the various old streaks of paint on the pale wood over and over.

It made his farewell all the more personal, struggling to mask the feeling of the ever-growing pit in his stomach from the friends he was still standing next to.

The sound of a mic being tapped drew everyone's attention in to the President, the volume in the hall quieting to a whisper, soon completely silent as he began to speak into the mic;

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you to honor and pay tribute to a true hero, a dedicated public servant, and a loyal friend who has served our nation with unwavering dedication for the past 19 years. It is with great respect and admiration that I address you on this occasion, as we bid farewell to a remarkable agent who has exemplified the very best qualities of service and sacrifice." As the President spoke, Leon held his breath, hands gripping onto his suit jacket to keep from trembling again.

At this point, you'd silently walked along the side with the guards from before, bringing the covered portrait up to the front before carefully placing it on your easel. "Throughout this nation's history, these agents have played an essential role in ensuring the safety and security of our nation's people and have consistently placed their lives on the line to protect the sanctity of our democracy. And today, we acknowledge one agent who has done so with unparalleled devotion."

"This retiring agent has been a silent sentinel, ensuring the continuity of our democratic ideals. Through countless hours of training, vigilance, and selflessness, they have demonstrated a level of commitment that is nothing short of extraordinary. But beyond their exceptional professional duties, this agent has been a friend and a confidant to those of us privileged to work alongside them. They have been a source of strength, a steady hand in turbulent times, and a symbol of the unbreakable bond that can form within the ranks of those who dedicate their lives to service."

You positioned yourself opposite of the President, placing your hands behind your back to keep your posture tall as you now smiled at the crowd, subtly scanning for Leon. His eyes were already on you when you found him, and your smile only widened further.

It prompted his own nervous smile, toying with the buttons on his jacket while turning his attention back to the President, wanting to remain respectful to his, honestly, very flattering speech so far. You followed Leon's eyes, seemingly having the same idea to just watch and listen.

"The sacrifices made by our agents often go unnoticed by the public, and that is by design. Their commitment to duty is matched only by their humility. But today, we pause to recognize and celebrate this retiring agent's dedication, valor, and sacrifice." The President continued to address the attendees in the room, giving you a quick nod before returning his focus to everyone in the entrance hall.

The President outstretched his hand towards Leon standing in the crowd, now staring at him with a prideful yet relaxed look. "To Mr. Leon S. Kennedy, our retiring agent and loyal friend, thank you for your 19 years of dedicated service to our nation. May your retirement be filled with the peace and contentment that you so richly deserve. You leave behind a legacy of honor and courage that will never be forgotten." The crowd of attendees clapped and cheered briefly, causing Leon to reach his hand up to wipe across his face. A poor way to hide his red face. He's done that before, hasn't he?

Once the crowd quieted back down, the President finished his speech with a classic, "May God bless you, your family, and may God continue to bless the United States of America. Thank you" before the crowd picked back up cheering and clapping. You clapped along with them, laughing at Leon's flustered expression. He could barely hold back his smile, not really have expecting to be so well recognized for his service.

Leon's queue to make his way to the front was when the President walked over to stand next to you, making sure not to block the covered portrait from anyone's view. He'd recited this speech to you countless times, even more to himself when he was alone, but all those eyes staring at him were causing him to fumble. He messed around with the mic once he was standing in front of it, and that was your queue to walk over and stand next to him, placing a loving hand on his forearm.

That's all he needed, just a little extra encouragement from the person he relied on the most. His speech was short and straight to the point, never having been a man of professional word, yet he still managed to slip in some words of praise for you and all the help you provided him during his rough patch earlier in the year.

Neither you or Leon had outright said it to each other, let alone to anyone else, but hearing him announce to the entire hall of people that you were his girlfriend made your heart soar. Speaking about you calmed his nerves, and he wanted everyone to know just how lucky he felt, like he'd hoped for earlier.

He bent over slightly to whisper in your ear, covering the mic with his hand to make sure it didn't pick up his voice. "Now, why don't you go ahead and show us all that masterpiece you spent months working on?" Oh, now you were the flustered one, giggling nervously as you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before walking over to where the painting sat on the easel.

"Ladies and gentleman," Leon's eyes followed you as he straightened his posture out, speaking into the mic once more with a wide smile gracing his features, "I'm honored to have the wonderful artist herself present my very own portrait to you." As he spoke, you carefully lifted the cloth from where it was draped over the painting, finally revealing the ever-awaited portrait to everyone.

Just like with Chris and Claire's, Leon was sat in that soft maroon chair, slightly off center, but his position was different with his right ankle rested atop his left knee, elbows on the arms of the chair while his hands rested in his lap, fingers interlaced. His smile was soft and partially crooked while he looked forward with relaxed eyes, a few strands of hair painted to sit in front of his brow. And to tie it all together, it had a lovely green background, a dark forest green as the base while a sage green was used to add texture. The vintage look had always been your favorite, and Leon fit it so perfectly. He was nearly timeless.

Many "ooo's" and "ahh's" were heard amongst the clapping from the crowd, along with a handshake from the President. Before you could turn to face Leon, you felt his arms slowly slink around you from underneath your arms, the weight of his head now pressing down on your shoulder. You could feel his grin when he tilted his head to kiss your jawline, beginning to gently rock you side to side. Getting to show off your work was always so rewarding, but just knowing Leon was handling everything so well was a feeling you'll truly never forget.

He was happy. That's all you ever wanted for him. The man has truly earned his portrait in that agent hall of fame.

The portrait was soon brought down to the aforementioned hall to be hung up and displayed for good, a few small groups trailing down to get a better look at it. Chris was the noisiest about it, telling Leon it looked like it belonged above a grand fireplace, to which said man agreed with.

Chris, Claire, Jill, and their respective families stared at it for quite some time alongside Leon and you. They all chatted while Leon stared quietly, taking in every little fine detail you'd added. You changed his position some, and did he really smile at you like that? He really did look lovestruck. Of course only he could tell that. Hopefully.

He surprised himself with how okay he felt after seeing the painting. You warned him multiple times that it would most likely be overwhelming and emotional, and while it was, it wasn't in a bad way. The most compelling thought he had right now was to just sweep you off your feet and smother you with love.

Leon asked one of the guards to take a picture of him with everyone, including you, in front of his portrait. Then, just a picture of you and him standing in front of it, easily becoming the background on his phone.

The party went on for only an hour or so more before people started to trickle out. You and Leon were some of the first to leave, saying all your thanks and goodbye's with hugs and handshakes.

The moment the two of you walked into your apartment he practically pounced on you before the door had shut, large hands gripping tight on your hips as he sloppily made out with you. He just had to show his gratitude for all your hard work.

Your lips tasted so sweet and your soft little moans were driving him wild, he couldn't help the groan that rumbled from his chest. Full blown sex had been held off by you, not wanting to rush him into anything while you helped him manage his problems. Honestly, he was glad you'd held off on him, because now that he was feeling like his own person again, it made waiting all the more fulfilling.

Leon hoisted you up into his arms after you'd kicked your heels off, holding onto the back of your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling against his lips as he carefully navigated around the short hallway and into the bedroom.

You looked so good splayed out on the bed for him, that beautiful dress you chose was insanely flattering on you. It had to go though, so after yanking off his jacket he made quick work of your dress, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before pulling it up and over your head. Your bra and panties didn't last either. He'd only gotten to see you naked a couple times before, but god, he'll never get tired of seeing you this way, acting all shy like you weren't his favorite view.

Leon was so eager to get his hands on you that he neglected to take off his suit, opting instead to hover over you and bury his face into your neck. He wasn't a good artist, but he loved to cover your neck in shades of red and purple like you were his own little painting, akin to leaving his signature all over you.

He only pulled away once you tugged on his hair, listening to your begs and pleas for him to get his clothes off. As much as he wanted to prolong this night and tease you, he couldn't hold himself back. He needed to feel your soft skin against his.

"So perfect." Leon mumbled against your skin, licking and kissing his way up your stomach and to your breasts after practically ripping off his clothes. His hands found their way back to your hips, pressing them firm against the bed to keep you from squirming away as he nipped at one of your nipples, pulling it into his mouth.

He moaned as he sucked and circled his tongue around your nipple, his eyes falling closed. The other couldn't stay neglected, so he brought one hand up to pinch and tug at your other nipple, sighing when he felt your body press against his as you arched at the sensation. He loved when your moans would pitch, so cute.

His cock was pressed against the inside of your thigh, rutting against it when you would tug at his hair. Once he decided your nipples had enough attention, he sat up and grabbed the backs of your knees to place around his waist. The new position offered Leon the perfect opportunity to drag his leaking cock through your folds, pressing it down with his thumb so the tip would nudge your clit with every slow thrust forward.

You were so wet, so delicate. He could've fucked you right then, slid right into that juicy little pussy, but he needed to take care of you first. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Reluctantly, the man pulled his dick away from you, letting out a poorly concealed whine at the loss. He ran his hands up your thighs before moving one hand so he could circle your clit with his thumb, the other hand back on your hip to keep you steady.

"L-eon~!" You brokenly moaned out, pleading to him with your watery eyes. You needed more; his fingers, his cock, anything. He couldn't say no to that, stopping his assault on your clit to drag his middle and ring finger through your drenched folds to wet them properly. He brought your right leg to sit over his shoulder, hand gripping the top of your thigh as he leaned forward, studying your face closely as he gently teased the outside of your slit with his middle finger.

He moaned with you as he slid his finger in, keeping his eyes trained on you as he started to tentatively thrust his finger in and out. "Yeah?" Leon whispered, licking his lips as you barely managed to nod. "Yeeeaah, there's my girl..." The rumble in his voice was music to your ears.

His ring finger was soon slid in next to his middle finger, switching between scissoring you and making a partial 'come here' motion with them. After only a couple minutes you were leaking all over his hand and the bed, the wet sounds of your pussy mixed with your moans making his cock jerk and drip with precum. Leon clenched his teeth as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, immediately bringing them to his mouth to suck off your juices. He let out an audible sigh after swallowing, repositioning his dick to slide through your folds a couple more times before nudging your hole with the tip.

"Look at me, baby..." Leon's hushed demand brought you to open your eyes, if only half way. He made eye contact with you before leaning forward further to kiss you, all the while finally pushing into you. He soaked in your gasp, his eyebrows furrowing as you tensed up. "Relax.. let me in~..."

"It's only me.." He panted, tilting his head to kiss the corner of your mouth as your eyes shut again. "It's only me, baby..." he repeated this a few more times as he eased his cock inside of you, the stretch only stinging for a moment before it turned to pleasure. He filled you perfectly, you could feel every bit of him, especially with his right hand adding a bit of pressure to your stomach.

Leon sat still for a minute to give you time to adjust, taking the way you moved your hips as a sign to move. He pulled out, all the way to the tip, before slowly thrusting back in. He managed to choke out a quiet "Fuck-.." when you clenched around him. "Taking me so well.. such a big girl~.."

He always knew just how to talk to you, making sure to take his time buttering you up. You were putty in his hands, and between his words and the feeling of him reaching so deep inside of you, you could barely think.

It didn't take long for him to start to lose his composure, the sound of wet skin slapping together filling the room as his thrusts intensified. "All mine. All for me." The grip he had on your thigh was sure to leave a bruise, but that was the last thing on your mind.

The hand he had pressing on your stomach moved further down so he could circle your clit with his thumb again, jaw tight as he looked from your blissed out expression to where his hand was playing with you. "Oh fuck! That's it!" Leon growled, eyes glued to your cunt as he plunged in and out of it. "Cream this dick, mamas~... Cum on my cock so I can fill this pretty pussy up.."

The way you gasped and moaned when you came was enough to warrant a noise complaint, but screw your neighbors. You needed this just as much Leon did.

"Oohhh fuck yeah.. Milk me, baby~... shit-" Leon's thrusts stuttered to a stop while pressed flush against you, abs flexing as he pumped ropes of cum into you. Once you managed to open your eyes, all you could do was stare at the man, flushed pink and sweaty, sitting between your legs. Both of you moaned in tandem as he pulled out, Leon groaning to himself as he watched his cum drip from your pussy. Truly a work of art meant for his eyes only.

He leaned over you again to plant a quick kiss on your lips, chuckling when he felt you smile. "Let me go grab something to clean you up, okay?" You could only nod in response, reaching your hand up to caress the side of his face before he stood up from the bed. He walked across the hall into the bathroom, wetting a soft rag with warm water before making his way back over to you.

Leon made sure to be gentle when cleaning you, the warmth from the rag soothing your tender skin. You were able to sit up on your elbows and watch him, using his gentle touches as a way to calm your still racing heart.

After wiping himself off with the rag, he tossed it over in the general direction of your laundry basket. It was a problem for later. Right now, he wanted lay back on the bed and pull you up so you could lay on top of him. Along with just how nice it felt to hold you, he loved the weight of you on him. So that's what he did, pulling you onto him after laying on the bed, running his fingers though your hair on the back of your head.

"Leon." You muttered against his collarbone. His eyebrows raised, yet his eyes were closed. "Mm?" His right eye peaked open when he felt you giggle. "What?"

"I love you." His fingers paused their ministrations at your words. You lifted your head up to look at him, growing worried with his shocked expression. "Sorry, is that too-" you choked on your words, stopped mid-sentence by Leon's arms suddenly squeezing the breath out of you with a very tight hug. He pulled you up just a little further so he could smush his lips against yours.

"I love you too!" He breathed out excitedly. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to tell you!" You tapped his arm and he immediately relaxed his grip, mumbling a small, "Sorry, my bad.." when you took in a deep breath.

"You're adorable, Leon." You shook your head with a smile, brushing the hair from his face to give him a much gentler kiss before settling you head back against his chest with a quiet sigh.

Leon was still a tough man, but you made him soft. Only ever soft for you.

Side note: I totally forgot to add in the pussy eating i am so sorry. i thought i did but it was literally just a thought that never manifested 😭

tags!: @greywardensaywhat @xkittiecatx @httpsuguru @httpsuguru @k-fallingstar @lysa1201 @bobastayhigh @pocketstoriesstore @agent-dessis-posts @klee-iii @missjoenowhere @mi-zer-y @bigtiddiesimp @finsternisle @sweets3rial @sodacolablast (there's a few of you that tumblr wouldn't let me tag for some reason)

[ohtobeleah]

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter Three: [The Grocery Affirmation]

Summary: When Sunday rolls around, Jake is chuffed to run into a ‘Damsel’ on his running route.

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of depression, anxiety, panic attacks. Mild romance. Angst/Whump.

Word Count: 3.3k

Author Note: EEPPPP I’m back queens!! The serotonin is doing the lords work. Really want to try and stick to a regular posting scene if I can get the routine in place. Been thinking about this one for a while now.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

There’s a saying that goes around hospitals that reads a little something like this. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. But there’s understandable doubt that the person who coined the saying ever went through a major surgery or trauma. 

Or maybe they didn’t mean physical pain. Perhaps they meant the other kind, the worst kind. Maybe they meant the kind of searing, seething, boiling pain that tells you you’re a failure as a mother and a fraud of a wife. 

Suffering is optional……That person didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about. It's all-consuming. The day-to-day struggle of living through hell all the while those who you loved unconditionally, were taken away in such horrific and volatile circumstances. The ever-burning pressure of survivor's guilt, the searing pain of grief, and the utter turmoil of failure all adds up. 

Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. Yeah right. Suffering isn't optional, it was forced upon you in a split-second that changed the course of your life as you knew it…..and wanted it to be. 

Your deep and meaningful with Bob sat heavily inside your chest. Could you trust him? Was it fair to burden him with such a huge secret? Did you put him in danger by letting him in? Would he tell anyone? But as you opened the boot of your car and sighed at the haphazardly thrown-in grocery bags, a small sense of normality took the space of the pressing questions inside your mind. 

The groceries were heavier than normal, either you were getting weaker or you had just decided to purchase more impulse buys than normal. The paper bag handles were surely going to cut off the circulation in your arms as you were adamant to one trip this. From the undercover carport, up the three flights of stairs, down the hall and to the right, that's where your hideaway was. You'd say home, but home is where the heart is. Your heart was ripped from your chest when you watched your son’s life drain from his eyes. Your heart was shattered into a million pieces when you watched helplessly as your husband bled out in your arms. 

So no, no this wasn't a home for you, but it would have to do. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jake Seresin was en route, enjoying a rather peaceful run. Golden tan skin covered with a thin shine of sweat. The perfect combination for any workout. At a pace that matched A Man To Make Me Sweat, Jake made his way down the footpath that ran the expanse of the side street he knew your apartment complex to be on. 

Was the particular route Jake decided to take this morning one intertwined with the hope he would run into you? That's a question for another time. But when you came into view? Jake smiled to himself knowing that the other route passed Bradley’s condo wouldn't have been as eventful. Nor would it have such a beautiful view. 

The sight of you wrestling with a million groceries and effortlessly trying to convince yourself that you were fine, was a sight Jake could watch all morning. His stride started to slow but his heart rate kept rising. The thought of you, the sight of you, the idea of you being his and only his. Jake had never been the kind to want to settle down. He’d never been the man who committed to one person or one relationship. He was a free-floating spirit that enjoyed the company of others. But when he first saw you, first spoke to you, heard that laugh of yours, saw that beautiful smile, listened to your hypnotic voice, he knew he was fucked from the get-go.

On approach, Jake slowed right down to a walk. His eyes never left your silhouette as he reached into his pocket for his phone. Deciding to pause his music rather than just turn it down. Jake could have stayed like this forever, he could have watched you all day. But when he watched as the bottom of one of the paper bags blew out, sending groceries of all kinds across the drive and pathway, he knew he had to make himself known. 

“You need a hand?” Jake had never seen you look so scared in the time he’d known you as you turned around with wide eyes and a look of intense panic plastered across your face. He swore the tone he’d used had been one laced with a lighthearted approach. “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you half to death Brewer.” Jake followed up as he approached with caution, holding his hands up by his head to show surrender and peace.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me Seresin,” The adrenal glands, also known as suprarenal glands, are small, triangular-shaped glands located on top of both kidneys. Adrenal glands produce hormones that help regulate your metabolism, immune system, blood pressure, response to stress and in this particular instance, respond to one Jake ‘Hangman’ Sererin scaring whatever soul you had left from your being. 

In your fright, you had let go of more of the grocery bags you had been trying to gather up. Groceries were strewn across the driveway and subsequent footpath. Cans of chickpeas and packets of beef jerky littered the concrete as you held your left hand over your heart to make sure it wasn’t about to leap out of your chest. 

“Fucking idiot, don’t scare people like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Jake chuckled to himself as a grin stretched itself across his smug face. Only you could call him an idiot in a scathing rage of fear and his mind would wander to marriage and children and dying together after a long and happy life together. Only you could provoke those once thought unattainable desires. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a coronary,” Jake replied softly as he reached down to collect a few of your lost items. “Just saw you struggling a little and thought I’d stop and help a damsel in distress.” 

“Jake, have I ever given off damsel in distress vibes to you before?” It wasn't the fact that you weren't a damsel. Hell if someone, if anyone had been around when you and your family were being hunted, you would have run into the arms of the nearest bystander. But it was the fact you couldn't get close to Jake. You knew his intentions, you knew his feelings towards you were something more than just platonic. And the worst part of it all was you knew your feelings were also more than something you could pretend didn't exist. Right person, wrong time. 

“Not exactly, no,” Jake replied as he handed you a rogue can of chickpeas. 

“So why on God's green earth do you constantly feel the need to play my saving grace?” The proximity in which you and Jake stood was something bordering a breach of personal space. He stood so close that you could see the small beads of sweat dripping down his chest. Slowing as they caught on the fine chest hairs that littered the expanse of his tanned and muscular self. “And clearly you need more shirts if you feel like running around the neighbourhood topless is appropriate.” 

Jake chuckled at the unimpressed nature of his attire, but he knew deep down, deep deep down, you were looking. 

“One, I have plenty of shirts, and two, any excuse to talk to you is a good enough excuse for me, Brewer.” The very thought of Jake going about his day finding any excuse under the sun to talk to you nearly had you forgetting how to breathe. But it was a fleeting thought, you couldn’t go there. He didn't even know your real name. He wasn't your dead husband. Maybe all these mixed feelings were purely birthed from a desire to not feel so alone. 

As you took the can of chickpeas from Jake's hand, you shut him down with a kind-natured jab. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Don't I know it.” Jake replied with a wink and a smile that could light up the entire night's sky on its darkest of nights before bending over to collect more rouge groceries. Your eyebrow raised in question and concern. What the hell was he doing? 

“What are you doing?” The question was out before you knew what you were saying. It was probably pretty self-explanatory. But your brain wasn't computing Jake's actions. 

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Jake answered with a chuckle. “I'm helping you with your groceries.” You stood there in silence as you watched Jake collect the groceries, wondering what you did to deserve such kindness. 

“I said I didn't need help.” You reminded Jake of the conversation you just had. It had seemed to slip his mind. In one ear and out the other. Attention deficit disorder. 

“No,” Jake stood tall, still sweating from his run. Glistening in the mid-morning sun. “You said you weren't a damsel, that didn’t imply I wasn't a gentleman raised by a woman who’d kick my ass if I didn't stay to help you.” 

“You’re a gentleman?” You had never known another version of Jake Seresin than what he had shown you. To everyone else, he was an arrogant, self-obsessed, egomaniacal who didn’t play well with other aviators who cared more about his abs than he did his friends. He was Hangman. 

But to you? He was simply Jake. Bagman. 

“Only for you.” Jake pressed his lips together in a fine line as he smiled. Your eyes caught Jakes in the morning light, golden and warm as dew drops disappeared from blades of grass and birds sang. The way he looked at you, the way Jake paid way too much attention, the way his eyes trailed down from your eyes to your lips as your fingers touched his. You saw him leaning in, you saw the distance getting smaller and smaller. For a split second, for a small fragment of time, you weren’t going to stop him. 

The silence that lingered wasn’t awkward, but it was intense. The unintentional sexual tension got the better of you as you stepped back and let out a rather large sigh. You had to break the moment, you couldn’t let Jake kiss you. If he kissed you now, you wouldn’t be able to keep a friendly distance. It broke the enchantment as Jake cleared his throat and stepped away. 

“Thanks–” 

“Anytime.” Jake, forever the gentleman, continued to help you collect your groceries and followed you back to your apartment in passive silence. Neither awkward or volatile. It was just peaceful, enjoying the company of one another. 

“You know when I asked what we were doing today I didn’t have unpacking groceries in mind.” Jake teased as he looked around your home, still holding as many broken bags of groceries as he could. “Nice place you’ve got here Brewer.” Jake, for as many times as he’d gotten to the front door of your humble abode, from all the times he’d taken you home or picked you up, he’d never crossed the threshold until this very moment. 

“I told you that I was doing a Sunday reset.” You raised your brow at him as you placed some bags down on the kitchen island, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t finish till early this morning, Bob actually stayed back and helped me get the last of the stragglers out.” You explained as Jake looked around your home from where he stood across from you at the kitchen bench. 

“Do you uh–” Jake asked softly as he caught the sight of a single photograph hanging by the hallway. A little boy sitting on your lap, dark hair, darkish skin, deep brown eyes, smiling ear to ear. It looked like you were tickling his side to get the very reaction captured in the image. “Need any help today?” Who was that little boy? Did you have a son? A nephew? 

You could tell by Jake's tone that he had seen something he wasn't technically supposed to see, but you weren't sure what it had been. 

“I should be good, not that I don’t enjoy your company, it's just I need some alone time,” You saw the questions swirling in Jake's eyes, but before he could ask any of them you followed up. “You know, because I spend so much of my time at the Hard Deck if I don’t take this time to focus on me, I can’t focus on you guys.” 

“Right, well I best be getting back to it then.” Jake pressed his lips together as he thought about what his next move was going to be. He had one of two options here. The first being he could walk away right this second without embarrassing himself. He could say goodbye and try to forget about to picture he’d seen of you with the small smiling child. The second and probably the most erratic choice was to lean in and kiss the lips that Jake had thought about late at night and first daylight for the last few months. He could hold your cheeks between his palms and rub the heat across your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. He could feel your tongue dance with his in the moment where time would stand completely still–allowing Jake to feel for once in his life, fulfilled. 

“Yeah–” You replied as you moved a little closer to where Jake stood, moving to usher him back to the front door. “I’m sorry that my attempt to one trip it from the car interrupted–- “ What you weren’t expecting in the middle of your apology was to feel Jake’s lips on yours. The feeling took your breath away. For a fleeting moment, you gave into temptation and closed your eyes. You melted into the physical sensation of another human’s lips on yours. You craved this feeling, one of complete silence in the echoing caves of grief. You allowed yourself to feel the tender touch of Jake’s gentle lips melting with yours as you deepened the kiss. Moving along as Jake pressed your back into the cupboard behind you. His hand fell to your waist as you cupped at his cheeks. Desperately trying to feel every inch of Jake that you could before your mind was to overthrow your heart’s deepest desire for love and admiration. 

“Brewer–” Jake sighed into your mouth as his tongue danced with yours. His hands squeezed at your hips, adoring every curve. Jake could stay in this moment forever if you let him. But as you began to trail your hands down the expanse of Jake’s exposed torso, your brain broke from its restraints with a rude awakening. 

“This is what you get for being a noise fucking bitch!” 

The flash was blinding as the image of the smallest man who ever lived yelled out as he was being placed in the back of the police car. The man who killed your family. 

“Stop!” You gasped as you pushed at Jake’s chest. The look of uncertainty immediately plastered itself across his flushed face. His heartbrokenly beautifully forbidden face. 

“You alright?” Jake questioned with concern as his wide eyes scanned your face for signs of anything wrong. “Did I do something?” He was worried he’d crossed the line, you’d told him so many times you weren't interested. That he was reading into whatever this was, wrong. But he never really listened. He thought the chase was a part of whatever the two of you were becoming. 

“No,” You reassured Jake as you tried to contain the panic rising in your chest. “No it's not that you did anything,” You tried to explain as Jake's eyes softened. “It’s just, I’m–I’m not ready for this.” 

“Is there even a ‘this?” Jake asked as he stepped forward once again. Pushing the boundaries almost immediately. “Just spell it out to me simply, yes or no Brewer.” 

The silence as Jake tucked some of your hair behind your ear was deafening and all-consuming. Your eyes never left his as you tried to find the right answer. The moral answer. The safest and clearly the right choice. No, the answer was no. Nothing was going on between you, you weren't ready for whatever came next. You weren't ready to move on. You weren't ready to expose someone, let alone Jake, to what could possibly be death for just the idea of knowing you. It was a hard no with a capital N and a full stop. One word. Just one. 

“Yes–” *Fuck* “But I just need time, I'm not ready for–” You were trying so hard to find the right words as small tears welled in your water line. “I need to sort a few things out before I can do this, if you don't mind just going real slow, like slower than this?” 

You saw the cogs turning in Jake's mind as a smile ear to ear took over his face. 

“I'll do whatever you want me to, just say the words.” Knowing that you really just wanted the day to yourself, Jake tried his best to effortlessly and as seamlessly as possible, tiptoe his way back to the first choice he had. “I uh–I hope you have a good reset.” 

You could tell Jake really wanted to stay, you could tell he was hanging out for you to change your mind. But you weren't about to, if anything you needed Jake out of your home before he saw anything else he wasn't supposed to see or do anything else you knew you weren't supposed to be doing. No matter how good it felt. 

“I hope the run doesn’t involve any more damsels,” You chuckled softly as you nudged Jake with your shoulder. “Guess you finally did earn the nickname ‘Bagman’ after all,” You chuckled again as Jake did too, nodding along in agreement. “Thanks again for helping me with my groceries, Seresin, I really appreciate it.” 

“Anytime–” Jake cooed as he smiled, heading back towards the front door with you. “See you for beer o’clock tomorrow?” 

“Oh, I'll be there.” You replied as you held the front door open for Jake. watching as he headed on down the hall and out of site. As soon as Jake was gone you shut the door tight, making sure it was locked but the three separate safety measures you had in place, before turning and sliding your back down the door until you hit the ground. “Oh my–” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from panicking as you curled your knees tight into your chest. Jake seresin, in your fucking house. KISSING YOU. What the fuck were you doing? You couldn't let your feelings get the better of you. You had a son to avenge, a husband to get justice for. It was bad enough that you'd slipped up and let Bob in on your situation, but you were clearly allowing Jake to get too close. 

As you tried to calm yourself down from the panic, your phone rang softly in the distance. Back up on the kitchen bench, your phone displayed a name you never liked hearing from. It was mandatory though, the check-ins, the updates, the constant “We’re making progress but can't tell you anything more than that.” 

As you peeled yourself from the floor you saw the name. The dreaded contact that made your heart drop every single time. With every call the memories that haunted you grew more and more real. The veil between reality and memory blurs to the point you aren’t sure what’s real and what’s the past. It all hurts the same though, internal suffering. The name that kept bringing it all back, time and time again. Year after year. Never allowing old wounds to heal. 

Roger. 

Suffering is optional……That person didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags: 🏷️ @a-reader-and-a-writer @xoxabs88xox @hiireadstuff @buckysteveloki-me @athenabarnes @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @na-ta-sh-aa @kmc1989 @sunlightmurdock @jaxfart @lauenderhaze @sugarcoated-lame @maisie-rebloging-blog @captainmoonknight @seitmai @shanimallina87 @kajjaka @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @imladrisofabookdragon @buckysteveloki-me @mrsevans90 @allepaula @els-marvelvsp @djs8891 @paperbag33 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @86laura11

[morning-star-joy]

I am not the only traveler

a stranger's heart without a home Chapter 1

Pairing: rivals to friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Fic Summary: Sleeping with Joel Miller was supposed to be a one time thing. When the older brother of your closest friend showed up in Jackson, you hadn't expected him to stay more than a day. You'd both given into a brief moment of passion before he left, and that was the end of that. It didn't matter, you were never going to see him again. Then Joel returns a few months later, and screws up everything about the comforting life you had established in Jackson.

Fic Genre/Tags: One Night Stands into Friends with Benefits (from chapter 3 & on, forgive the exposition), Emotional Slow Burn (really slow), Eventual Romance, some Angst, some Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family (lots of Tommy & Reader and Dina & Reader friendships), Long Chapters (usually around 10k except for this first one)

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) starting in Ch 3, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader around 30, Joel 56) Themes of Grief/PTSD/Depression with mentions of death (family members, both Reader and Joel) that can be heavy at times

Chapter Warnings: Brief Canon-Typical Violence (Infected), Language, Alcohol Use

Wordcount: 5.2k

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || masterlist

ao3 link

You were young when the world ended.

Details of Outbreak Day and those hard days that followed had gotten lost in the flow of time, memories difficult to recall so many years later. You supposed you should count yourself as one of the lucky ones, to have made it long enough that those days had become blurry, the trauma easier to repress.

But never forgotten, you remark to yourself as trained eyes scan your surroundings through the scope. While the immediate events of the Outbreak were heavy with loss, there were some things worse than the Infected and what they took. Some wounds were newer and deeper, too stubborn to heal. Impossible to forget.

Movement catches your eye, and all somber soliloquy is forgotten as you hone in on the Runner shambling through the snow. You inhale, steadying your aim, finger pressing down on the trigger as you slowly exhale.

The Runner hits the ground with a loud bang, joining the other dead Infected scattered around the abandoned barn. You quickly eject the cartridge, scope moving to find the source of an inhuman snarl as another came running around the corner of the building.

It had become a learned routine, a habit as second nature as breathing. Inhale, finger on the trigger, and exhale as a shot rang through the air, and the second one dropped.

You pause.

“Eleven to eight,” a Southern accent drawls from beside you, and you suppress an eye roll as you turn to look at your patrol route partner and perpetual pain in the ass.

“You know,” you sigh as you turn back to look through your scope again, “one of these days you’re gonna shoot at the same time I do, and one of us will look like a fool with a wasted bullet.”

“Probably you,” the stupid comeback was filled with playful arrogance, and this time you couldn’t stop your eye roll.

You huffed quietly as you mumbled, “Charming, Miller.”

Seeing no more movement, you allow yourself to relax. You lean back, rolling your neck to loosen the tension in your muscles as you hear your companion laugh.

“Ah, don’t be a sore loser,” you glare up at the man as he stands and stretches. “Eight ain’t bad. Maybe eventually you’ll beat Eugene.”

You push yourself onto your feet, dismounting your rifle and swinging the strap over your shoulder. “Tommy, we both know Eugene can probably drop more than the both of us combined. To beat him would be an honor.”

The two of you began to head back to where you hitched your horses, your mood lightening now that you had cleared the area and the scent of danger was no longer heavy in the air.

You looked back at your companion to see him smiling amiably back at you. Dark curls, a strong nose and a kind face, Tommy brought comfort to many with his presence, you included. But you knew better than most how deceiving a smiling face could be, especially if you were on the other end of the ex-Firefly’s scope.

Luckily, you had never found yourself unfortunate enough to be caught in his crosshairs. You were sure you wouldn't be alive now to tell the tale if you had been.

“And besides, aren’t you about as old as him, anyway?” you teased as you swiftly mounted your horse, barely hiding a snicker as Tommy grunted from a misstep in placing his foot in the stirrup on his own horse.

“C’mon, I’m nowhere near that old!” You couldn’t help but laugh, both at the protest and the muffled curses behind you as you nudged your horse into motion, forcing Tommy to catch up when he had just barely finished mounting. “Besides, you ain’t that much younger than me, girly.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you tossed an unimpressed look over your shoulder as he eventually managed to catch up and match your pace, “You got at least a decade or two on me, old man.”

“A decade of wisdom,” he drawled with a charming grin, one that had all the ladies fawning over him for a time since you both arrived in Jackson, until Maria locked it down.

“A decade of age,” you countered, urging your horse into a gallop. “And wrinkles! Trying to cover it all up with that hideous thing on your lip?”

You could barely hear his initial reaction over the sound of both of your horses’ hooves hitting the snow-packed ground, but you know it was affronted. His shout pushed against the wind to reach your ears as you rode, “Maria said she likes my mustache!”

Scrunching up your face, you look over at him with a mock sound of disgust. But you couldn’t hide your laughter, your expression cheerful, mirrored by Tommy’s as the two of you took the established patrol route back to Jackson.

Jackson had been your home for the past few years, though you had been tentative to call the settlement such at first. While Jackson was comfortable, there were things that were lacking, presences that couldn’t be filled no matter where you went. Eventually, you figured Jackson was as good a place as any to try and settle down. To try and carve out some kind of life for yourself. 

Besides, it had Tommy, the only friendly face you still recognized. Even if you had really wanted to leave, he was adamant about staying, and you couldn’t bring yourself to part ways after the bond you two had forged. An unbreakable bond, as many forged in the fire were.

Not for the first time, you felt a weight pressing on your abdomen. It was a phantom sensation, a reminder created by the cruel confines of your mind of the mark you had chosen to brandish there. The first life you had chosen to lead after everything had been decided for you since the Outbreak.

Or had you been a follower then, too? The thought echoed in your head as you waited for the gates of Jackson to open, gaze flashing to Tommy beside you, happily content and eyes bright; probably eager to return to Maria.

Are you still following now?

You shake the musings away, horse slowly trotting after Tommy's into the settlement when there was enough space to move through. The mood in the air of Jackson was one of cheer, perhaps holiday cheer if you looked closely enough at the snowmen built by children, carols sung by friends, and trees decorated by families.

Your hands clutched the reins tighter, looking straight forward at your path as the sound of laughter echoed around you. It mixed with the quieter cacophony of workers carrying out their tasks to keep the settlement running, so those fortunate souls that still had families could call it home. You took a strange, sick bit of comfort in the idea that maybe some of those workers were as hardened and bitter as you.

Together with Tommy, you rode slowly to the stables, silently going through the process of unloading your equipment and caring for your respective horses once inside the safety of your respective stalls. You were in the process of running a brush through your horse’s mane when you heard Tommy call out from the next stall over to another patrolman passing by.

“Hey Mike, you seen Maria around?”

You could understand the tinge of worry that leaked into Tommy’s voice when he asked the question. While the two weren’t obvious about their relationship, their marriage was well-known, perhaps even a morale boost to some. Maria usually was lurking somewhere nearby when you and Tommy returned from patrol, but she hadn't been today, which was odd.

“She went out with a group earlier.” You swear you could hear Tommy’s teeth grinding together from your own stall even before Mike was finished explaining. “Bonnie and Greg saw a couple folks across from the dam, they went to check it out.”

Tommy gave a stiff nod, and you both watched as Mike left before you turned back to run the brush through your horse’s mane again.

“She can handle herself,” the words were meant to be a comfort, but there was an unintended edge to your tone that you winced at.

“I know that,” you glanced back over your shoulder to where you heard Tommy continue to unpack his horse. “That’s not the issue, it’s just—”

“I know,” you repeated his own words, voice softer now as you set the brush aside.

Maria’s pregnancy wasn’t common knowledge yet, but Tommy had been too excited, too flat-out drunk from his own personal celebration when he came to your house that night not to let it slip to you. Your loyalty to him ensured that you wouldn’t run your mouth about it, even if you did have the urge to spread that kind of gossip—which you really fucking didn't.

After a few sugar cubes fed to your horse as a treat, you slowly shut the gate to the stall behind you. You leaned against Tommy’s open stall to watch as he fed his own horse an apple, a larger treat he must have been saving.

You knew family was important to Tommy, and how much becoming a father meant to him. While there was a twinge of jealousy you felt for the life he had built after all the shit you both had done, you were happy for him. Maria was great for him, and vice versa, the two balancing each other out when it came to power and humility.

Something was eating away at you though, as you looked over your shoulder to make sure the two of you were alone. You respected their privacy, but you were part of Tommy’s life too, even before Maria was. There was no way you could let it go so easily, and seeing as Maria wasn't around to hear…

“Hey, Tommy,” you said slowly, the toe of your boot tapping against the dirt-packed ground as you wondered how to broach the subject carefully. Experience had taught you how touchy a topic it was you were about to bring up, and he was already in a bad mood now with Maria out, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Your inner musings had trudged it up from the back of your mind, and you wouldn’t be satisfied until you acted on it.

“Hm?” He wiped his hands, tugging his gloves back on as he arched a dark brow at you. Both a question and a signal to proceed.

“I was just wondering,” you hedged, arms crossing over your chest as you braced yourself for his reaction, “you send a message to your brother yet?”

You watch as Tommy’s shoulders bunched up, his entire body stiffening, and you have to suppress a sigh.

“Tommy—”

He quickly interrupts you by speaking your own name, his tone dangerously low, signifying the thin ice you were walking on. How stupid it was for you to broach this subject yet again. But you already knew that, and you sure as hell weren’t going to stop now that you had started.

“You’ve never missed a week, Tommy,” you urged as he shook his head and brushed past you, “he’s probably worried sick—”

A harsh chuckle interrupts you, the sound hard and forced. Still, it didn’t deter you as you followed his heels out of the stables after he had shut his horse’s stall.

“That’s a hard sight to imagine,” Tommy’s voice was bitter, not an unusual tone that he possessed when talking about his brother at times. But you had heard the other times he spoke of the man you knew only by name alone, the glowing adoration that said much to the love he still held deep down for his older brother. “I doubt he’s even noticed.”

“Christ, Tommy,” your voice held a note of exasperation to it now. “He’s your brother.”

“And?” He was walking fast, trying to get ahead of you, maybe lose you in the crowds of the main street. But you were quick and in front of him in an instant, making him stumble to a halt so he didn’t barge right into you.

“Look,” your voice was quiet, not wanting any of the residents to overhear this now that you were out in the open, “I respect Maria, probably more than any of those fucking Fireflies we killed for, but—”

“Not,” the words were grounded out of clenched teeth as Tommy stared hard down at you, “another word.”

You bristled, anger filling your veins as he spoke to you in that same tone he had when he was your superior in that godforsaken rebellion. So you let him brush past you, trying to control that simmering rage, not wanting to say anything you might regret to one of the only friends you had left.

Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying one last sentence as he started to walk away, the words hauntingly quiet and pulled from your mouth almost as if by some invisible force, “Do you know what I would give for that chance?”

Tommy stopped. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask what you meant. He didn’t have to.

You watched as he hesitated, gloved hands clenching into fists before relaxing as he looked back at you. His gaze was somber; asking you for forgiveness, but resolute in his path.

A defeated exhale escaped your lips as you gave a short nod, laying this issue to rest for now. You both knew you would bring it up again at some point, as you had been over the past few weeks since you had learned Maria had convinced him to stop sending the radio messages across the country to his brother. Just because Tommy was growing a new family now, didn’t mean he had to forsake the one he used to have.

The heated exchange was not new, but it still left you exhausted. Combined with the physical tension you held between your shoulders whenever you patrolled, you nearly dragged your feet as you walked towards the nearest spot you could stop at for a drink.

“You’re back!”

The bright words pulled you out of the darkness of whatever lonely path your thoughts had led you down. You looked up from the bottom of your liquor glass over to the young, freckled face beaming up at you. You should’ve known it wouldn’t have taken her long to find you, the kid was persistent as fuck when she set her mind on something. Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed as your lips quirked into a half-smile.

“Always so astute,” you reply, though your tone only held a friendly teasing with the snarky response as you brought your glass up for another sip.

The teenager scoffed, rolling her eyes as she hopped up onto the stool next to you, ignoring the complaints of the bartender about adults only as she focused her attention on you. “How many did you get today?”

You took your time sipping your alcohol, finding it hard not to spit out the drink in laughter at the impatient look on the girl’s face. After finally putting the glass back down, you took a moment to indicate you wanted a refill to the bartender before answering, “Eight.”

“Aw, man,” she sighed as she crumpled, head falling onto her arms that she had dramatically thrown onto the bar. You did laugh this time, much to her apparent annoyance judging by how she peeked an eye out to fix you with a withering glare. “You’ll never catch up to Tommy like that!”

“Uh, he only got eleven,” you added, smiling and sending a nod to the bartender as your glass is filled with the amber liquid once more. “I wasn’t that far behind.”

“That’s double digits! You’ve never gotten double digits.”

“Dina,” you drew out the name of the girl in what was supposed to be a reprimanding tone, but it was impossible to hide the fondness you felt for your young shadow.

Even if you knew there were hardly enough Infected around Jackson to get double digits when you and Tommy were both out taking care of them on an established patrol route. Even though the girl who looked up to you didn’t know the body count you had left behind before coming to Jackson, or how many times you had pulled Tommy's dumb ass out of the fire.

“May I remind you that eight is more than you get?”

Dina’s head shot up from her arms, her glare shooting daggers at you. “Only because nobody lets me go.”

“Because you’re still a kid,” you remind her, earning a scoff as she swings herself around on the stool, ponytail swinging behind her back as her arms crossed in an act of stubborn defiance.

“One day, I’ll get more than the both of you combined,” Dina mumbles, and you smile wistfully at her adolescent determination.

Your glass lifts to her in a toast. “Looking forward to it,” you grin as she scoffs, ignoring the push she gives to your shoulder as she calls you an old drunk.

“Uh, Tommy’s old,” you countered as you knocked back the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn down your throat, but relishing the warmth it supplied after the day you spent in the cold. “Eugene is really fucking old. Me? I’m young as fuck.”

“Oh really?” Dina counters as she hops to her feet, followed by you as you stretch your arms over your head. “I can hear those old bones creaking as you stretch.”

You jokingly poke the back of her head as you fall into step besides her. “Little shit, you'll be as old as me in ten years,” you chastise, tone devoid of any real anger. She playfully shoves you back and you overdramatically stumble, drawing bright laughter from her that you joined in with.

Dina had arrived at Jackson not that long after you and Tommy had. You remembered your heart aching for the girl who looked so lost, alone with no family and friends to take care of her. Maybe you saw some part of yourself in her; or maybe you had seen a ghost of what you had lost. 

No matter what it was, it spurred you to take the girl under your wing, the two of you forging a close bond akin to a mentorship. Dina loved hearing your stories, living vicariously through the tales of your past as well as the patrols you took up around Jackson. She didn't have to know those stories from your history were always fragments, leaving out the worst of the brutality you had committed. She was satisfied with the adventure they told.

“So, how was your date?” you teased as the two of you pushed out of the building into the crisp winter air. You shoved your hands into your jacket to warm them up, laughing at the blush that flooded Dina’s cheeks as she glared up at you.

“It wasn’t a date!”

“You and Jesse hanging out alone wasn’t a date?” you countered with a brow arched in doubt.

“I hang out with Jesse all the time,” Dina muttered as she kicked at the ground, and you hold back a laugh to protect her fragile young pride more than anything.

“Yeah, but not alone,” you point out, waiting for whatever biting remark Dina was preparing before a sharp shout pierced the air and caught your attention.

Your heart leapt into your throat as it only took a moment to realize the booming voice had called out Tommy’s name. Feet shuffling forward, you peered through the street in search of the man, searching for any hint of danger and relaxing only once you saw him safe from harm from where he stood atop a scaffolding.

He wasn’t injured, but there was something in Tommy's eyes that you had never seen before. An intensity, almost disbelief as he stared at something, or somebody. You followed his gaze, brows furrowing as you saw Maria’s group had returned and was moving down the street, but that definitely hadn’t been Maria that had shouted.

Movement catches your eye, and your gaze snaps to a man dismounting one of the horses. Your brows furrowed, not able to instantly place a name to the face of an older man, hardened both by age and the harsh life of an apocalyptic land. Strange that you couldn't name him, considering how well you knew most of the Jackson guards and patrolmen by now.

Maybe he wasn’t a patrolman? Your mind raced through options as you tried to keep up, hampered slightly by the alcohol you had consumed as you looked over the group. You recognized them all, except—

Your gaze stops on a young girl, maybe around the same age as Dina, sitting on another one of the horses. You frowned, remembering what Mike had said about finding people near the dam. Was this them? You looked back to see the man moving towards Tommy, who was quickly descending from the scaffolding.

Father and daughter, maybe? But why had he called out to Tommy? What—

You watched as the two men embraced each other in a tight hug, and suddenly something clicked.

Joel, the name resounds in your mind. You lean back on your heels, shocked for a moment. A huff of disbelief leaves you, forming a small cloud of cold air in front of your eyes, obscuring your view for a moment before clearing to show the two men laughing and grinning at each other as they pulled back before hugging again.

You smiled, feeling a hint of warmth in that hollowed out place in your heart. A sting pricked the back of your eyes and you shook your head, patting Dina on the shoulder as you turned around to head back inside the food hall.

“I need another drink.”

The bowl of chili in front of you was half-eaten, only due to the urging from Dina to get something in your stomach.

“I’m not drunk,” you had tried to reassure her, “just a little tipsy.”

“Yeah, well, if they decide to come in here, we need a reason to stay,” she had snapped back as she tried to shove you into a seat again. “So eat!”

A barely contained chuckle nearly passes your lips as you look up from your food to where the girl had wandered to now, hiding behind a pillar, though hardly effectively. You made a note to yourself to teach her a bit more about being stealthy later. Who knew if she might need it someday, especially if she wanted to patrol for Jackson when she was old enough.

Although you tried to give the group their privacy, you ended up with an ear half-tuned into their conversation as your food helped to slowly sober you up a bit. At least you weren’t half as obvious as everybody else in that food hall right now. One glance around showed all of the attention was on the four seated at the center table.

You did pride yourself on the fact that you hadn’t looked at them since they had first walked in. What a strange stroke of luck that they ended up in the same spot as you and Dina, much to the teenager’s excitement as she slowly became restless enough that she had abandoned her own food to sneak off to a spot where she could get a better look at the new arrivals. Or one of the new arrivals in particular.

It wasn’t every day somebody her age showed up in Jackson, so you couldn’t blame her for being curious. You had to admit you were curious about the unexpected arrivals yourself, though your curiosity was based on a bit more knowledge than the pure unknown everyone else was dealing with.

Tommy was always sparing in recounting details about his past, but you were closer to the man than most. A bond forged in firefights, the two of you had relied on each other for years in the Fireflies. Those habits were hard to get rid of even now that you had settled in Jackson. Oftentimes he would seek you out for a right-hand man, knowing you would get the job done and watch his back, trusting you as much as you did him.

More than that, Tommy had become a friend. Maybe even family, if the two of you were blackout drunk and giggling over a stupid, shitty joke you wouldn’t remember in the morning. After all the loss you had suffered, you found you could rely on Tommy to be a constant, something you desperately needed after parting with the Fireflies. And it seemed that Tommy might need that, too. Although he had Maria now, you were both fond enough of each other to still spend more time together than not.

Which was why you knew more or less just who Joel Miller was. The picture that Tommy had painted of his older brother in your mind was of a cutthroat man, unafraid to get rid of anybody who stood in the way of whatever he wanted. From most of the information you had gathered, though, what he wanted seemed to be keeping the two of them safe.

Still, you had seen Tommy in action. You knew exactly what he was capable of, and knew who he had learned it from. There was no way in hell you would ever want to be on the opposite side of him, and if Joel was worse? If he had been the leader of the two, and Tommy was just a watered down version?

You spared a glance back over your shoulder to see Joel shoveling food into his mouth alongside the girl. The intense way they both gripped their forks and stabbed at their meals could almost make you laugh, the two mirror images of each other. Like father, like daughter, you supposed, although Joel having a daughter was news to you.

But Tommy had always kept the details of Joel’s life pretty locked up, from their time in the Boston QZ all the way back to life before the Outbreak. All you knew was that they were from Texas, and that Tommy had been in the army. You never felt the urge to pry, respecting his desire for privacy. Life from before and immediately after the Outbreak was private for a lot of people, you included.

Besides, anything you needed to know about Tommy, you already knew—mostly the fact that he wouldn’t shoot you in the back.

“What?”

You looked back up at the confrontational shout, seeing the girl next to Joel had snapped at—

Laughter bubbled up in your throat that you had to fight to hold back as you followed the girl’s gaze to see Dina backing off from her unsuccessful hiding place. The back of your hand covers your mouth as you smother the laugh that managed to escape, clearing your throat sharply to cover it up. You shoot Dina an apologetic look when you feel her glare at you.

You gave it a minute or two after she left, your fork absentmindedly pushing around the rest of your food before you push yourself up to your feet with a sigh. You felt a twinge of sympathy to the embarrassment Dina probably felt at being caught, but it was entertaining to see the new girl with Joel could potentially go toe-to-toe with the headstrong teenager.

Your eye gravitates towards the table of four as you pass by, holding back a wince as you notice Tommy taking Maria’s hand. Had he not told his brother that he had gotten married?

Fuck, Tommy, you think to yourself, shaking your head as you glance over at Joel, jumping when you find yourself in direct eye contact with him.

The stare Joel fixed you with was severe, definitely harder than you had ever seen Tommy look at a friendly stranger. Even closer now, you could see how right you were when you judged his face was weathered by age and experience.

Prominent frown lines and what seemed to be a permanent crease between his brow already said a lot about his hard exterior. Then there was the intensity of his dark brown gaze, his pupils moving back and forth across your face as if he was sizing you up, assessing your threat level and how fast he could take you down if needed.

Maybe you weren’t a friendly stranger to Joel. Hair that might have been as dark as Tommy's at one point was now lightened with gray, and physical features aside, his stern presence left no doubt that Joel was the older of the two brothers. Perhaps all those years focused on survival had worn him down, and he couldn’t see a friendly face in anyone anymore.

You couldn't really blame him if that was the case. He and Tommy were probably both still alive because of that caution, and for being responsible for Tommy's survival alone, you felt gratitude for the grizzled survivor.

Not that he would understand, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was reading from you in those few seconds you observed him.

“Joel, say congrats,” the girl at his side hissed. Joel’s attention snapped back to his brother at the words, and you finally looked away. 

Tension you hadn’t realized gathering in your body released, and you rolled your shoulders backwards to try and relieve the sore muscles. Behind you, Joel’s Southern accent, edges of the lilt rougher than Tommy's, echoed with an empty congratulations. 

Despite your better judgement, you scoffed at the empty sentiment.

You knew Tommy would be searching for his brother’s approval, and it certainly wasn’t given with that short tone. Shaking your head and trying to rid yourself of the mild annoyance you felt at Joel’s displayed indifference, you reminded yourself that you knew nothing of their family affairs. Just because Tommy might as well be the only family you had left, didn’t mean you were the same to him.

That thought brought a wince to your face as you pushed through the doors back into the picture-perfect winter scene of Jackson. Strands of lights reflected iridescent in the snow, children running through it and having snowball fights as their parents looked on in joy.

It struck you then, a feeling you weren’t a stranger too, but one that carved further into that hollow place in your chest each time you felt it.

You were lonely.

Yes, you had Tommy and Dina. And yes, you knew you weren’t the only sole survivor of a family line in Jackson. But in moments like this, especially in the long winter months when the nostalgic scent of what should’ve been the holidays lingered in the air, it was hard not to feel the sting of all you had lost.

You quickly zip up your jacket, pulling the collar closer around your neck as your fingers already start to numb at the chill in the air. Pulling your gloves out of your pocket and onto your hands, you wander out into the streets of Jackson, searching for another purpose in the cold.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

Midsommar vs SPOP: Cults and Religious Trauma

i watched Midsommar recently and was struck by how subtle and nuanced the Hårga were, in comparison to the Intergalactic Horde. of course, i don’t expect SPOP to show the kind of brutal gore that Midsommar did, but what i’m talking about is the way these cults indoctrinated members.

Horde Prime just mind controlled everyone to follow his orders and praise him, and it just felt so immature, especially compared to the way SPOP handled some of the other deeper topics. you’re telling me they wrote an actually good manipulator in the form of Shadow Weaver, but couldn’t do the same for Horde Prime? cult leaders are supposed to be manipulative. they don’t just force you to join their cults because it’s so much easier to break out of it. no, what they do is they convince you that this is for your own good. they promise you support, community, happiness, peace. they especially target emotionally vulnerable individuals, because they are a lot likely to accept help from a large community who is seemingly just looking out for them and trying to help them out.

and this is what happens in Midsommar. Dani recently lost her entire family to a murder-suicide, and her boyfriend had fallen out of love with her at this point and he often manipulates and guilt-trips her whenever she points out his mistakes. she was overall extremely lonely and depressed, trying hard to repress her emotions for everyone else’s sake. this is the kind of person the Hårga were looking for. a lot of the audience didn’t even realize that Dani was being indoctrinated into a cult or that joining said cult was going to be very unhealthy for her. that’s how convincing the Hårga were.

Pelle especially seems like the warm, comforting figure that Dani needed, letting her open up about her feelings and listening to her, in contrast to Christian, Dani’s boyfriend, who was often preoccupied with other things, and didn’t even bother to remember Dani’s birthday. you almost root for Pelle and Dani to end up together, until you realize that he is also part of the cult and all of his empathy and compassion is just a clever way to manipulate Dani into trusting the Hårga.

the scariest thing about the Hårga is that they weren’t large, imposing figures with a god complex. they didn’t have a leader who ruled them with an iron fist. they were just a seemingly normal community with seemingly normal people who had fun rituals and celebrations, and seemingly supported and cared for one another. even after seeing two people die brutally, Dani was still manipulated into joining the Hårga because they took advantage of her trauma and her loneliness. she desperately needed actual support and a shoulder to lean on, something her boyfriend didn’t provide. so when the Hårga offered her that support, it was easy for her to believe that this community was exactly what she needed.

and i think SPOP could have pulled something like this off, especially with Catra. if they really wanted us to believe that Catra felt guilty about her actions, they could have gone a more interesting route. i mentioned this in a previous post but instead of Horde Prime chipping Catra, they could have shown him manipulate her and promise her that she can be absolved of all her sins if she joined him. instead of being all like “teehee i know you have a crush on adora, you gay kitty”, they could have shown him feed on her insecurities and loneliness, and promise her a happier future of she joined him, playing on her need for validation and affection.

and in a moment of desperation, Catra believes him. she has lost everyone at this point, so she accepts what little comfort is offered to her. and then it’s the writers’ choice whether to redeem Catra by having her come to the realization that worshipping a genocidal tyrant with a god complex is actually not going to help her become a better person, and that she was just repressing her guilt and convincing herself that this is the best option; or to have her stay and face a tragic ending of sorts. either way, i think it would have been better than what we got.

i know that Nate apparently struggled with religious trauma and guilt (according to a few posts i saw, at least) and i’m not trying to say that i know his experience better than he does. i just think the execution with Horde Prime was really off, and he was almost like a funny caricature of a cult leader, rather than a representation of an actual cult leader.

[greml1nb0i]

Hazbin Hotel Rewrite [WIP- this is copy and pasted from my docs; this is old but i wanted to share it anyway]

Rewrite the Characters:

Original +opinions (ooo~ Spicy) :

Charlie - Princess of Hell, Daughter of Lucifer. Sheltered and Cheery.

  I hate that she’s just Disney Princess coded. They could have used the whole sheltered route well but TBF we don't see that either.  We see a weird rendition of that where everyone forgives her for her terrible actions but yet other characters like Husk and Angel Dust are somehow held to a higher sense of accountability for their actions?!

  I also don’t believe whoever raised Charlie could keep her away from the ever growing and changing landscape of Hell. Like if you're going to be a Princess of anything its really important for the next heir to be well acquainted with their kingdom's landscape and history. At the very least talk to the locals and commonwealth. 

 Her design is...ok. It didn't change much from the pilot but tbh i liked her Pilot design, I feel like it makes sense for her to wear hints of red and white, but i wish they added more than just red, i feel like black or gold would have been better or even purple for Biblical accuracy of Pride.

Vaggie - Girlfriend to Charlie and protector of the Hotel, ex-Exorcist. 

 Why did they change the lore? Also why does it feel like the VA hated being there or was just given 0 directions. She sounds dull and plain except for when she’s sounding like she’s angry, which is 99.98% Of Vaggie’s emotions.

  That, an amnesia apparently?! How does vaggie not remember the very weapon that cut out her FUCKING EYE that still makes no sense, like how tf her and Lucifer and even Husk have wings, if wings are going to be used for ANY character why make them seem important to Vaggie when Husk literally has wings, and Lucifer the supposed “fallen Angel” STILL HAS HIS?! Like why? How does this make sense? 

Angel - FemBoy, Sex worker. Deals in Self destruction, self loathing and deep depression while also being flirty and promiscuous. Was in a Mafia family. 1940s timeline. 

 Trauma porn character and just a bunch of gay men stereotypes. As a survivor, his story doesn't hit the way its meant to. There's a good and bad way to show SA and Abuse and while they did it “eh” (im saying this loosely) at first, they were completely unrealistic and downright infantilizing at the end.

  There's no way someone who just went through a beating, an having to almost get drugged and dragged out of bar, is going to forgive the same person who started the stupor in the first place- ESPECIALLY ON THE SAME NIGHT!!!!!

I FUCKING CANT WITH THESE WRITERS THINKING MENTAL HEALTH CAN BE SOLVED IN A 20 MIN EPSIODE, IS THIS A KIDS SHOW ABOUT FRIENDSHIP OR AN ADULT SHOW ABOUT CARTOON DEMONS IN HELL. 

And don’t get me started on that terrible musical number, it’s just soft core rape in a cheery pop tune i fucking hate it!! It doesn't help that Raph, an SA fetishist STORYBOARDED THE DAMN SCENE

WHAT THE FUCK MEDRANO!?

Husk - Angry grump, bar keeper. Contracted to Alastor. Gambler. From the 1970 or 60. 

 The design is a character designer's worst nightmares come to life on the screen. Every furry from the early 2000s clutching their pearls in cringe. It screams “omg rawr xD uwu” era and i think we as a society are way past that, i figured a 30 something year old woman would be too.

[apparently it was her sisters OC that was put into the show, viv why?!]

Alastor - radio show host from the 30s. Cannibal. Half Creole. “Wendigo design”. Cocky and always smile but is "quite dangerous when provoked." [yea ok pal]

  An OC from middle school that should have stayed in middle school. There is a reason so many OCs from artists' early childhood don't make it into their new and growing art style. Most of the time if you keep obsessing over the same OCs you stunt yourself on growing in your art. Tumblr Sexy Man is that exact thing. I like him in concept but, if he was drawn better and actually looked like a man from the 1900s and in his 40s,(or even a half creole man; that's supposedly a Wendigo) I'd have less to complain about. His concept is good and interesting, but its not the first or the last and Alastor def isn't the first. Also give that man a haircut please!

Nifty - Japanese-American. From the 50s Obsessive and a neat freak. Camera shy but psychotic.

  I feel like this is just a racist stereotype waiting to be exposed. The “young psychotic Japanese  girl” trope is so fucking old and repetitive that i cant vibe with a character like Nifty when i know her only purpose is to be used as comedy bait. It doesn't help that Viv didn't give Nifty almost any merch! Like WOW really showing favoritism over the merch sales and that is disgusting.

Sir Pentious - British inventor. Kinda an idiot but is a brilliant machinist.

  We were robbed of a decent villain. I hate that he became part of the cast and became the first redeemed as if Angel wasn't there longer and started showing signs of Redemption sooner, like we got more Redemption scenes of Angel but like NONE of Pentious and we are supposed to believe this weird snake dude is redeemed just cuz he kissed a girl and got himself killed for nothing???? VIVZIE YOUR ASS WRITING IS ASS!!

Also he's a stolen Character...seems to be a trend for Viv..

Lucifer - King of Hell, Father of Charlie, Sin of Pride. Depressed and non-serious, deep self loathing. Complex of some sort. Short King.

 He’s fine..i guess, i mean its freaking Jeremy Jordan VA-ing him…he kind fixes whatever is wrong with Lucifer character wise. [this is for very obvious reasons a joke, while re-reading this i realized some people might not know i'm being sarcastic,oopsies] He’s a terrible character for numerous reasons. He is kinda homophobic if you really think about that “i like girls too” line and then proceeds to call her “MAGGIE”;  Lucifer feels like he is just there to satisfy Viv’s  disney esque “daddy issues” type kink she has for “tragic characters and shitty dads” type characters.

 Designs wise he trash. He looks like jeff the killer but blonde and drawn by your aunt who refused to go to art school

Cherri Bomb - Angels Friend. Arsonist. From the 60s(?). Punk rock.

 Her design is literally traced and just the Addict design…the fans are just stupid. Also i dont like the fact that Viv EXPECTED viewers of her show, to have done homework on who the fuck Cherri is, cuz if you're a new watcher, and didn't read the fucking Vivziepop Bible, you wont know who tf she if or why you should even care about her.

 Why is Angel hanging out with someone like this in the first place, You’d think because Angel is older and from a different time period he wouldn't vibe with Cherri?? But apparently Viv thinks a fem gay man from the 30s would be the best homie to a 20 yr old punk rock Aussie from the 60s, a whole 3 decades of time difference!! Tell us why and how they know each other!! How can these fundamentally very different people even vibe together!! Is it just cus "wow shared trauma of abusive lovers" cuz wow Viv.

(her entire design is also stolen soooooo~)

Mimzy - who?

This one also feels really fucking racist. Idk what it is with Viv but the jewish stereotypes of Mimzie are absolutely atrocious. 

Fix:

Charlie - [TBD]

Vaggie - [TBD]

Angel - [TBD]

Husk - [TBD]

Alastor - [TBD]

Nifty - [TBD]

Sir Pentious - [TDB]

Lucifer - 

 Was an Angel with dreams, and took part in the Creation of All Things.

   However Lucifer was too ambitious and went off course with the designs of Earth’s creatures, causing the other Angels to feel uncomfortable by him and his new creations. 

While the Angels were tolerating him, he was allowed to visit the First Human, but in doing so felt that their lack of knowledge was unfair and so in hopes of helping the other Angels see things his way, he gave the Apple of Knowledge to Adam and Lilith. 

 This didn't go as planned though, Where Lilith became kinder and more empathetic, Adam however became more uptight, and acted as if he was better than Lilith.

 Lucifer defended Lilith against Adam thus causing the Angels attention to be drawn. Seeing what Lucifer had done; Ultimately bringing evil (free will) into the world, They (strangely) cast Lucifer AND Lilith, as well as the creatures Lucifer had created to the dark void;

 The Angels now would call it, Hell. Lucifer, home. 

Lucifer would first land in Hell confused and depressed, Along with Lilith they both begin to freak out as they look into the dark, empty landscape in front of them. Feelings of bitterness begin to reside within Lucifer, that settled into a resilient sense of ignorant Pride. 

Lucifer’s Creations - 

 The demons and most of the Hellborns. Lucifer is treated as the Divine Judge of Hell, His punishment is having to witness all the evil that had been created due to him and He in turn must turn what could never be, into another one of his creations. Though he is given it a process. He has given up on making anymore Hellborns due to them fixing that themselves. Demons that are specifically Dead Humans (The Sinners).

Sins - 

 All of the Sins were once creatures created by Lucifer that began to Form into The 7 Deadly Sins. However the rest of these creatures evolved into lower ranks and a hierarchy was formed. With the Sins and Lucifer being at the top.

 The 7 are special creatures that Lucifer held a special fondness to in particular. More so than some of the other Creations. Each of these Sins were given a mission after the fall and were subsequently turned into the Sins by the Angels, who felt they deserved the same punishment, if not worse, as Lucifer. Forcing each of the Sins to work as their prince/princess of their specific ring unless they want their entire existence to cease. They rather that not happen.

The angels cursed all the sins, and Lucifer himself. that if they ever stop their torment they will cease to exist. Angels thought this was humane but didn't realize or rather didn't care that much at the time how barbaric it actually is. 

Dubbed the Curse of the Angels or Angels Kiss 

(play on Kiss of Death where whomever Death kissed is marked for death, 

here the Sins were “kissed” by the Angels and a “kiss” was once used to symbolize a curse or bad omen onto another)

their "death" however is more than they evaporate into nothing

its their very minds and bodies slowly begin to deteriorate painfully to the point of being empty husks. No expression, No emotions, No sense of self. Nothing. Their consciousness and personality essentially gets erased entirely.

Premise IDEAS for Rewrite: 

1] 

Sinners go through character arc delving into their issues that lead to each one's Redemption

Heaven gets upset over the rise of redemption in Sinner 

 Earthly Denizens of Heaven/ “winners”  attack the Hotel

The Sinners and the Staff defend the Hotel

Heaven’s attackers are turned fallen. 

{END}

so i started this almost a year ago, it was right when i really started to dislike Viv and Helluva Flop Boss. If you wanna give a suggestion on what you think could make this better go for it. It's a WIP- so any advice is welcome and appreciated!!

[bpdbeehive]

I recently watched the game because I had to see if it was as bad as everyone says and it actually isn't? Yes, these two are fucking weird and uncomfortable to watch be touchy feely and I don't support that and if you ship incest block me.

But I really want to dive into their psyche, Ashley is so fucking BPD coded (I have BPD) and Andrew is UNFORTUNATELY her FP, she's so jealous of anyone who tries to get close because he's always been all she's had, she says she should kill herself when upset with him, she is terrifed of him not liking her and accuses him of it irrationally multiple times and her mood swings are drastic to the point anger goes to tears to happy in minutes.

And Andrew could have possible DID (I have DID) that Ashley finally noticed at the end of one route where she's hoping for the one that's more anxious yet loving, the other is unfeeling and cold and doesn't put up with her shit. On the other hand, it could just be symbolic of how his innocence died the second he was partly responsible for taking a life and he has to completely shut off to deal with the trauma that happens later on. He's definitely depressed too with his uncaring nature with some PTSD as shown with his repressed memories.

The reason for their codependency and unhealthy relationship blurring the lines between family love and romantic love is their parent's fault, Ashley was excluded by everyone but Andy, and Andy was expected to raise her himself as a child, they shared a room their entire lives, and they were abandoned, they've always been all each other have and Ashley belittles him into thinking she's the only one who really loves him as a coping mechanism for her fear of abandonment. These parents saw a child with physiological issues that make empathy hard and gave her up to a kid to fix, they feel like no one cares but each other.

Incest is disgusting though, I'm just saying they're fascinating to me and every single time I mention them I'm going to clarify there's more to this game and I don't associate with that side of the fandom

[yanderepuck]

Ikevamp au where everything is the same except the suitor falls in love with you, but you hate them.

Imagine. An otome game, but you constantly turn down the guy.

Napoleons route: what makes you think I want to be your body guard?

You: what makes you think I want to be near a panty sniffer?

Napoleons route later: wait... I think I'm in love with her

You: why won't he leave me alone.

Wait why is this actually hilarious

Mozart's route: no one likes you and no one wants you here.

You: what makes you think I want to spend my time with a man who meowed at people?

Mozart's route later: so I actually really like your company

You: I've never enjoyed being around you for a moment after you called me a nuisance.

How would you expect me to fall in love with either of these two after they both tell me they want nothing to do with me. Please explain

Leonardo's route: I'm going to drag you around the city and have you help me with things

You: please just let me be depressed in the mansion

Leonardo's route later: I've really been enjoying our time together

You: please just let me be depressed in the mansion.

Just let her do her thing. She wants to go back home with no strings attached. Make sure she doesn't try to kill herself but please don't drag her along against her will.

Arthur's route: you're a pretty little thing

You: touch me and I will scream and bite you myself. Never speak to me. Don't even perceive me.

Arthur's route later: so it all started when I was a wee lad

You: didn't I tell you to stop acknowledging me? I'm not interested in your trauma. I didn't even know who wrote Sherlock until I got here

Let be real. Most of us didn't actually know. We knew Sherlock didn't write Sherlock but we didn't know it was some crazy fairy man.

Vincent's route: you're really sweet and I think we should be friends

You: yes. Friends is nice. You seem very nice

Vincent's route later: so..I..um...I want to be more than friends.

You: learn how to have a negative emotion and stop acting like being sad is a bad thing.

The boy is honestly toxic. He's going to invalidate your negative emotions I feel it.

Theo's route: hondje! You saw my scar and so now you're going to work for me!

You: shouldn't I be the one trying to blackmail you??

Theo's route later: you're actually a really good worker and have a good eye for art. I like you hondje

You: so you like capitalism? Am I even getting paid? I didn't travel through a door just to run around the city and sell art work

I'll never understand how it makes sense that Theo thinks he can make her do things bc he assumes she noticed some random ass scar. WHAT'S WRONG WITH EVERYTHING LEARNING YOU GOT SHOT. YOU DIDN'T COME FROM THE FUTURE. THEY CAN TECHNICALLY LOOK UP HOW YOU DIED.

Why did I have a hard time coming up with one for Isaac. Ik that boy is problematic but why am I having issues

Isaac's route: HOW DONT YOU KNOW ABOUT *insert very complicated scientific theory*

You: I went to public school my dude. Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell

Isaac's route later: she's very kind and patient. Is this what love feels like??

You: IF HE COULD SHUT UP ABOUT HIS WORK FOR 5 SECONDS THAT WOULD BE GREAT

I know once I post this I'll think of a better one for Isaac. But oh well. Boy needs to let you talk about your day.

Dazai's route: you're so cute. I'm going to adopt you as my little sister

You: you're a little weird... But I guess this is okay

Dazai's route later: so I really like you, but I need to push you away and act like I don't care because it's what's best

You: I have been here for two weeks and you've tried to kill yourself 4 times. How did you think I could mentally handle that let alone want to date you, PLUS YOU KEEP CALLING ME YOUR LITTLE SISTER

He sibling zones you up until the very end. What kind of Alabama kink do you got going on, Dazai

Jean's route: I'm not sorry that I bit you. Don't talk to me, I don't want friends. No one understands me anyway.

You: if Comte doesn't beat your ass for biting me then I'll do it myself.

Jean's route later: I think I'm learning what love is. She's helped me with so much and I want to repay her

You: he bit me and never apologized or got in trouble. Why the hell would I ever be interested in him. He's treating life like a SURVIVAL GAME

I have many complaints about Jean. But my main one is the biting and him never getting in trouble for it bc he's the favorite child.

Will's route: you found and read my note book and now I have to keep an eye on you so you don't tell anyone that I'm using this information against them to possibly get them killed!

You: sooo...you aren't writing all of this because you have bad social skills and are just trying to better understand everyone because they are all from a vastly different time period than you? Thanks for telling me your plan.

Will's route later: so I've realized the error of my ways and I'm not going to do the deed any more and I hope you can forgive me

You: LET ME OUT OF THIS DAMN VILLA

Will became a little too obsessed. Oops

Comte's route: it is my fault that you are here, so I will protect you and take care of all your needs while you are here. You'll be the daughter I never had

You: thanks! I'll work around the mansion to pass the time and get to know everyone better

Comte's route later: I know I have pushed you away multiple times but I really love you and I want to spend centuries with you

You: I have seen how bad of a parent you are and I've picked up your dirty clothes off the floor I don't think this is going to work

Comte just keeps daughter zoning you and then is like "so I love you" IS THIS WHERE DAZAI GETS IT FROM.

Sebastian's route: every time you do something wrong I'm going to flick your forehead

You: do that one more time and I swear to God I'm slapping that grin off your face

Sebastian's route later: being with you is making me miss home and consider going back to our time. I would love to go back with you and spend our lives together back in Japan

You: there's so many reasons why this wouldn't work out and staying at the top: YOU TOOK SOME RANDOM PILLS SOME PRIEST GAVE YOU. Not to mention you didn't tell ANYONE you were dying

If you're gonna fall in love with me at least tell me you're going to die in a few months.

Also not going to do the trio in this moment. Oops sorry

[humornaut]

hi!! i’m a relatively new omori fan (a brainrotted fan, however, with 140 hours in the game so far… and 98% completion bc i lost to the recyclepath.. -_-) anyway, i love your analysis posts, you’ve clearly studied the details of this game very well!!

i was hoping to ask about the timeline of white space and headspace creation, if you have the time and would like to! my roommate and i played together and have tried to piece it together a few times over the four playthroughs we’ve done (two of each route), but there are still some details that seem contradictory to me. i’m sorry if this is obvious though!

so the transcript of the truth album says “you sink into a crevice in your mind… an empty white room” so i initially assumed white space was created on the day of the incident, in that dissociative state while mari was in the bed. you also see this in the sequence after three days left before going back into headspace where it’s sunny and basil in front of the door, then sunny in white space, then the manifestation of omori. of course, we’ve also been told “you’ve been living here for as long as you can remember”, but we can assume the “you” is omori instead of sunny, which makes sense if he was created in white space

however. in the lost library we see that sunny used to explore headspace during school, presumably before the incident, and daddy longlegs says “in the beginning, there only existed two... the dreamer and his room” and then “the dreamer grew weary of his room and created a door that led to many different worlds”, referring to white space and headspace, so white space existed first. so white space existed before the incident.

so then the white space reference from the truth album is maybe about the manifestation of omori, instead of the creation of white space. i think the outfit sunny’s wearing in the omori cut scene is also the same as from the day of the incident (the black tshirt & shorts). so presumably (before the incident), sunny used to explore headspace as sunny instead of as omori.

daddy longlegs then goes on to talk about black space, and how omori was created to let sunny “ascend to a blissful state of ignorance” and “forget himself” (this also prompts an interesting question of how sentient omori is — because he’s the protector (& knows enough to be willing to kill basil) but he’s also “ignorant of his own fabrication”, according to daddy longlegs, but i guess that’s another matter entirely!) black space was created in response to trauma, so that again supports the idea that omori was manifested after the incident.

so then white space. a place to survive but not to live. the black lightbulb is the repression of an idea, ie, the lightbulb was created after the incident. but sure, white space can exist without the lightbulb. my question then is, why did sunny need a place to survive before then? we could say that dissociation has always been his go-to reaction in stressful situations, and that’s why. but he was also in white space long enough to get bored of it, enough to conjure headspace.

we have a few vague clues that sunny & mari’s home life could have been bad, but nothing concrete. and personally, i’m of the opinion that his life being more or less ideal to begin with enhances the tragedy of the story (as well as him and basil having opposite tragedies, as i saw someone else point out — sunny’s being that he was already very much loved & cared for, so it’s worse when it’s taken away, basil’s that he never had that in the first place), but i guess that’s up to interpretation. other than home life issues then, just the stress of the violin? general developmental issues? depression? something else?

i’d be super curious to hear what you think (again, if you have the time)… thank you! :)

Hi there! Sorry about how long this took me, I've had a lot going on + I actually wrote a whole long response that took me like a week of on and off working, and then I accidentally shut off my computer and lost the whole thing :(

I want to start this off with a couple disclaimers: Omori intentionally keeps its timeline close to its chest (presumably to add to the game's feelings of unease and the mystery of it all) AND we see evidence throughout the game that during Omori's long development cycle, it saw multiple changes to its story that ultimately makes the game's timeline a little inconsistent in a way that doesn't really matter.

I think I don't really have to explain the first point to you, but it will be relevant when talking about Headspace, because the game doesn't even commit to Headspace being purely a dream, as there are plenty of indications throughout it that it could be something a bit more supernatural.

However, I do want to elaborate on my second point there, mostly because this is something that I've wanted to talk about for awhile, and what better time to bring it up than when we are talking about the timeline! So:

How Old is Hero Omori?

I swear this is an actually interesting question

It might seem silly to ask this, considering the game actually tells us how old he is in Headspace, but stick with me.

Based on this line, Hero (and presumably Mari) are 15 pre-canon, while the rest of the group turns 12 during the year of the album (except Kel, who would've turned 12 prior to Basil getting the album).

So let's take the time skip into account. When we first meet real world Aubrey, she says this:

After this point, the game tends to stick to the time skip being four years whenever it comes up. But this isn't technically true! Even accounting for the months after the incident that Sunny continued going outside for, the incident happened in October, while Sunny comes out again during the summer. Most likely, we're actually looking at around 3 and a half years, with Sunny coming back outside the summer that he would turn 16. Since we are presumably at the beginning of the summer, with Hero just now coming home from college, Sunny would actually be 15, at least during the main portion of the game, though once he's in the hospital, it appears some time has passed so that school has now started back up.

Why does this matter? Well, based on this timeline with Hero being 15 in the photo album, he should have turned 19 the January prior to the game's main events, and this is what most people see as canon. However, within the United States, most people, unless they graduate early or late, will leave High School the year they turn 18, meaning most people turn 19 during their first year at college (if they attend).

At first glance, this doesn't seem to be an issue, but we know for a fact that Hero has actually been away at college for two years, due to this interaction:

This is the second summer that Hero has returned from college! He should be 20! Now Hero is a bit of an overachiever, so it is possible that what is actually happening here is that he graduated early, but I doubt that due to what we know about how Hero reacted to Mari's death.

For that first year, even if Hero was technically going to school, he certainly wasn't excelling at it. By the time he gets to the state we see him in-game, he has maybe a year to a year and a half left of schooling. I'm really not sure that I can buy Hero graduating early, regardless of how well he does from that point on.

I also want to acknowledge that the game could simply take place ~4 1/2 years, rather than 3 1/2. There's no reason not to go with this, other than it would mean that the younger four are actually 17 during the game. You are free to believe this instead, but I am going to go into what I actually think is going here next.

We know that the characters got younger during development. We actually have an older version of the photo album, in which instead of saying that Sunny was turning 12, it says 13. Why did this happen?

Let's take a look at Aubrey's recollection of what happened following Mari's death:

For reference, this is part of what she says at the tree stump during One Day Left.

Her words here imply that she wasn't actually aware about how bad it was for Hero, and most of the fandom typically just leaves it at that.

But that's weird, right? Look at what she says. It seems like she did HAVE a reason for why Hero wasn't available, it was just incorrect. And what's more, this is definitely how Hero would've been after his year of very much not studying. There's no reason that Aubrey would believe that Hero reacted to Mari's death in this way unless it was true, especially since it is something that would later be true.

I also want to point out that Kel's talk in the cemetery in which he tells us how Hero reacted to Mari's death is entirely optional and disconnected from the actual main story cutscenes in the real world.

To bring this full circle, I also want to point out a mechanic that was added to the game VERY late in development:

You might see where I'm going with this.

Here's my theory. Originally, Hero would not have reacted to Mari's death with staying in bed for a year in a depressed state. Instead, he would've immediately become lost in his studies as a coping mechanism. However, when the team had the idea for the emotions chart, they likely realized that while happy and angry fit Kel and Aubrey's coping methods respectively quite well, Hero did not seem to fit sadness all that well at all.

In order to make Hero fit sadness, they change his story so that he stayed in a depressed state for a year, but they don't remove his original story of getting lost in his schoolwork. After all, they already had the writing and art assets finished and the game had already been in development for a long time. So instead of doing any major rewrites of the actual script, they simply add a single cutscene in the graveyard that doesn't seem to contradict anything that lets us know that this is how Hero reacted!

Then they had another problem. If Hero spent a year not caring about school, how would he have graduated on time? It would've been difficult even for an overachiever to do two years of schooling in one year. This is an easy fix as well! All you have to do is go through the very few instances of characters' ages being mentioned, and make everyone a year younger! It would've been a lot easier for Hero to catch up and excel if he had an additional year to do so after the incident with Kel! It also gives us another instance of a character getting overwhelmed and angry and pushing someone they care about, which we see multiple times! It works really well, and I like it a lot, but I haven't been able to unsee this change being made ever since the first time I thought of it. The minor line of dialogue about the hero sandwich that reveals Hero has been in college for two years would have been overlooked, since it doesn't mention his age, and likely would've been forgotten due to its unimportance. Aubrey's line, while wrong, can also still be explained away by her simply not being in the know about how Hero really reacted to Mari's death.

I'm not saying this is definitely what happened, but this theory does explain that one tiny little inconsistency that we see in the game. Could also be nothing though idk I'm not perfect

SO

The timeline of the creation of Headspace, White Space, and Black Space! The thing you actually asked about and care about!

It's a little difficult to actually place a lot of things here. Headspace is already so vague. We can use Daddy Longlegs' explanation as a general guide, but it's still difficult to figure out how it lines up with the between night cutscenes, as well as some of the other things.

What I can say is that Omocat has explained Sunny's dream worlds as a very real reaction to trauma that some people have. From this perspective, it would've always existed in some form.

In regards to the truth album line about sinking into the empty room, it's important to keep in mind that nothing there (unless I am super mistaken) implies that this is the first time that Sunny has been there, only that it is happening in that moment. In fact, I find the use of the term "sink" to be very interesting in this context, because very recently prior to the end of the photo album and the incident itself, Sunny had another very traumatic experience when he nearly drowned at the lake. This incident is also very important because many of the traumas that we see from Sunny in game come from this incident. He is still extremely scared of heights, spiders, and drowning by the time the game happens. I don't think it is out of the realm of possibility that White Space was initially created as a response to that, assuming that it didn't already exist for Sunny's entire life.

Next! Headspace, as I understand it, refers specifically to the dream world that Sunny created by merging a bunch of different dream worlds together in order to hide away Black Space, as told by Daddy Longlegs. What we see in the school day memory isn't Sunny exploring Headspace, rather it is just establishing that Sunny has always had a creative and wandering mind, which is why he was able to create Headspace as a coping method in the first place.

The "you've been living here for as long as you can remember" line can also mean many things! It can refer to Omori, as you said, or it could refer to Sunny always having White Space to some extent, OR (and I find this to be the most likely answer) that regardless of how long Sunny has actually had White Space, his repression of ALL his memories both the good and the bad mean that this is literally all he can remember!

All of this is to say: I don't really know. I'm really sorry about that, I've typed this up multiple times trying to come up with a satisfying timeline that I can actually point at evidence for. I believe that Sunny probably had access to White Space before the incident itself, but Headspace probably only became necessary to form out of his different dreamworlds and fantasies after the incident. He was always creative, so he always had creative dreams, but Headspace itself was almost assuredly a post-incident creation.

I apologize that this probably wasn't the answer you were looking for. There might be an answer in there somewhere, but I hope I've shown here how trying to come up with a definitive timeline for Omori can create issues.

[arcriotwrites]

~𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓣𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱~

Bucky Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Angst and discussion of Bucky's/Reader's trauma, descriptions of death, themes of depression, swearing

Tags:

#buckybarnes #thewintersoldier #death #trauma #fanfic #xreader #tangst #revival #first post #love #mypoorbaby:( #Ijustwannahughim

Author’s Note:

This is my first post to this account! I haven’t written this type of stuff in a while so I apologize if I am a bit rusty. I love Bucky so much and wanna hug him so bad so I wrote about doing that to ease my delusions. I hope you enjoy! (Please ignore the grammar errors, it is 11:30pm when I am posting this)

Word Count: 2.1K

Your eyes can't seem to tear away from the security monitor, your gaze specifically on the silver glint you can see from the dim desk light he sits at. You lean back in your chair, letting out a deep sigh, your hand running over your face.

He shouldn't be allowed to do this. To just forget.

Your thoughts seem to drift as you feel frustration rake your body, your mind starting to cloud in anger. He was a criminal, an assassin, a killer and yet Shield just lets him run around like a commoner. Your anger seems to drift into logical thinking as it often did, your memory flipping back to all of the files you read on The Winter Soldier. After the corruption of Shield and the publication of Hydra's files due to The Black Widow during the destruction of Project Insight, you found yourself spending many late nights pouring yourself over the files on The Winter Soldier. Your colleagues didn't like to talk about him whenever you brought him up, almost treating him as if he's Bloody Mary, like saying his name would summon him. Though despite what he has done and the destruction he has caused, he always intrigued you. So much so you became his personal watcher. Security cameras and microphones were put up in his apartment before he relocated himself their permanently, making it so that his every move was watched without his knowledge.

You feel yourself drift back to reality, not knowing when you decided to get up from your desk. You find yourself walking out of the newly built Shield headquarters, turning to look at the building as you exit the doors. After the corruption, they immediately started rebuilding.

Time doesn't stop for them I guess.

The thought passes through your mind as you slide into your car, dropping your computer bag into the bag seat with a soft thud. You let out a deep sigh as you sit there, debating whether you were really going to do this or not. As you turn the key, the car engine roaring to life, you route your GPS to a certain Brooklyn apartment.

Pulling up to the building felt so strange. Sure you had driven by before and watched it nearly 24/7 but parking your car outside seemed like a bad idea. A shiver runs down your spine as anxiety settles in your stomach, feeling as though your heart jumped to your throat. You release a deep breath as you step out of your car, wrapping the jacket you had on around you tighter. As you approach the main entrance, your hands shake when reaching for the brass door handle.

When you enter the building, it was exactly as you expected. Single apartments on either side of you dictated by A and B, a staircase in the middle of the hallway that went up 5 floors, even the mirror hanging above the small table in the main hall seemed to be exactly where you expected it. The familiarity of the building brings a small sense of comfort to you it fully sinks in what you are about to do. Your footsteps seem to echo as you climb the stairs to the 4th floor, knowing he resided in apartment 4B. When you reach the 4th floor, you can feel the anxiety creeping up again, feeling as though you were going to be sick. You quickly take note of your exit routes before walking to the door with the brass plaque on it that read '4B'.

You take a deep breath before knocking against the wooden door, swallowing hard as you try to find what to say.

"Mr.Barnes? I um- I know you don't like visitors especially if it is unannounced but I just- I feel like we need to talk."

You speak, your voice coming out softer than you had wanted it, making you wonder whether he even heard you. You can hear his heavy footsteps approaching the door and stop just as he reaches it. After a few seconds of silence, you clear your throat.

"I'm going to be honest with you. I came here to try and figure out what happened. I have been angry for so long and I'm positive my anger is based in confusion and so I came looking for answers. I have been trying to figure it out on my own but it's never a good enough answer, you are my last resort."

Your voice slowly becomes a whisper as you ramble, not noticing just how much you were saying until it was already said. You hear a deep sigh on the other side of the door. When he speaks his voice comes out gruff and raspy, as though he hadn't spoken in years.

"You with Shield?"

His question has you sighing in defeat, expecting this to be the end of the conversation as you respond.

"I am but they aren’t aware that I am here right now. I came here strictly on my own business and accord."

Your response is hopeful as if trying to prove to him that he isn't your assignment. That he isn't your mission. You hear his footsteps and then the door of the lock squeaking open. The sound of the doorknob turning causes you to swallow hard, understanding that you were about to walk into his domain.

As he opens the door, your eyes fall to him, your lips parting slightly in shock. You had expected to see a man full fo hatred, covered in wounds and bruises. You had expected to see a killer open that door. Yet standing in front of you was a man. His hair was brown and to his shoulders, dark circles rested beneath his crystal blue eyes, a black hat was placed on his head, shadowing his face partially. He looked tired, maybe even burnt out. His appearance made you almost feel bad for him. You notice a glove covering his left hand, that same hand motions for you to come inside and for some reason, you do.

As you step inside, you look around the apartment. Newspaper covers the windows, the floor was worn, a small kitchen to your right and a mattress on the floor to your right, no sheets on it. You would’ve thought Hydra would set up their best soldier better before they got taken down. He stands next to the kitchen counter, examining you. As your gaze falls back to him, a shiver runs down your spine at the look in his eyes. It wasn’t predatory or dangerous, his eyes were full of curiosity and nervousness.

“You wanted to talk?” He asks, clearing his throat as if trying to remind you why you were here. Your attention snaps back to the task at hand.

“Yes. I um- I…” You trail off, feeling words die in your throat. How could you explain this to him without sounding weird?

“I have looked over your files, I know your history.” You notice him tense up as you speak, his jaw clenching and his posture straightening slightly. You continue;

“I’m not here to hurt you or pry too much but there are so many questions I have that I can’t get answers to except from you. I um- I had a brother. His name was Cody. He was the funniest guy you’d ever meet, he would tell stupid dad jokes and make sure everyone had a good time everywhere he went.” A dry laugh escapes your throat as you feel your chest tighten, the words coming to you easier now as you speak about someone so close to you. “He went to towns outside of what was Sokovia to help build hospitals after the Avengers destroyed the country. I went to visit him for the summer, taking time off work to go help him do this amazing service. When I got there, his project advisor said he hadn’t seen him so I went looking for him in the hospital he was working on at the time. I found him in the basement, shot in the chest and once in the back of the head. He was slouched against the wall opposite the door, sitting in his own blood. His eyes were still open…” As you describe the scene you had walked into, the memory floods back like a dam breaking. Tears well up in your eyes as your gaze drops to the floor, not wanting him to see you this emotionally vulnerable. You notice his stance has relaxed, his face dropping as you speak. He knows what’s coming, waiting for you to say it.

“He was assassinated by The Winter Soldier. The shots were so precise, I knew that’s who it had to be. No one would make it two clean shots. I knew how Hydra trained their soldiers. I contacted Shield to find out if my brother was in Hydra’s files and if I could bypass the encryption to see them. I was able to. He was listed as a false suspect.” The words choke out, your voice cracking as a son takes your body, placing a hand on the counter in front of you to hold yourself up.

“He wasn’t even a threat, Hydra misidentified him as their next target. He was killed for no fucking reason. He didn’t deserve that. He was doing such good work, hell he was doing better work than I could ever do at Shield.” You scoff out the last sentence, sniffle and wiping your face with your sleeve. Your gaze rises to the ceiling, as if trying to get the tears to stop. Your lips quiver as you try to calm down, seemingly unable to stop the cries that make your whole body quiver. You don't want to look at him, knowing you would fully breakdown, your knees threatening to give out. You hear him clear his throat, the sound coming out like choking. You blink quickly, bringing your hand up and wiping your eyes with your jacket sleeve. You sniffle, trying desperately to gather yourself before continuing.

"I'm not here to try and condemn you, I simply just want answers..." You hesitate as you speak, your voice coming out broken and soft, your tone shifting to be almost pleading with him. You slowly lift your gaze from the floor, your eyes landing on him. He stands on the opposite side of the counter from you, his hands resting on the wooden top. His head is bowed, his hair falling like a curtain in front of his face. You take a few deep breaths as you try to compose yourself. When you speak, your voice comes out more even;

"I just want to know if you remember him."

You watch as he slowly lifts his head. His voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper.

"I remember them all. It was like I was screaming to get out but I couldn't. It's like I was a witness to my own crimes that I couldn't stop." His voice breaks as he speaks. You notice the tears that fall down his cheeks, his eyes seeming to glaze over in pure grief. In those few sentences, your entire perspective shatters. The man before you wasn't a killer, Hydra made him that way. They scrambled his brain and controlled him like robot. He was nothing but a tool for them. You watch as he breaks down, beginning to pace circles in the small kitchen, trying to control his breathing. Your breathing begins to pick up and without thinking, you walk around to the other side of the counter, now invading his space even further.

"I'm so sorry..." He chokes out, his voice hoarse as he looks at you, his cheeks wet with tears. Almost like an instinct you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in to a tight embrace. Sobs rake his body as he practically collapses into you. You had been so stuck in your own grief and anger that you hadn't stopped to think about all that he has dealt with. Sure, his trauma doesn't diminish the loss he caused you as The Winter Soldier, but it gave you a new perspective as to how broken he is about it too. You find yourself running your fingers through his hair trying to soothe him. Tears run down your cheeks as you stand there, holding the shattered man in your arms. You feel his metal arm wrap around the small of your back, his other one wrapping around your shoulders, trying to pull you closer to him. His face is buried into your shoulder as you speak, your voice just above a whisper;

"I forgive you."