#that’s the single easiest way to feel alive again

[chlo3sevigny]

this is literally the best ep i’ve heard this year

[sttm99]

Trueform!Sukuna X Reader

Content Warnings...? Slight gore

Once again, it is time for Sukuna to collect his payment for a decade of peace; twenty young women sacrificed for his pleasure. For over fifty years, Sukuna has he has enjoyed murdering these women for pleasure until finally, he meets you.

You had been in the cell for so long with these girls. Their cries had become obnoxious and pathetic. It was irritating to your ears. It wasn't as though they weren't being heard. They were.

But they were being ignored.

And why would they not be? You shuffled further into the corner of the cell, disregarding the moistness of the ground as it seeped the thin fabric of your kimono. You brought your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around it and closing your eyes.

It was a futile attempt to drown out the screams. It was becoming a mess of noise. You could no longer differentiate the screams of the girls past the door from the ones of the girls scared of their turn.

You sighed as you shifted unto your side and leaned your entire weight unto the wall. You didn't know how long it'd been since the first girl had been taken. Then the next one that was pulled away after that, and the one after her. Your sense of time was practically non-existent.

You were hungry and tired, and your heart pounded viciously from the fear. You could be the next girl to be pulled away and offered up to the demon whom the village paid tithes to. Because that was what you all were, useless offerings to appease the creature for a single decade of peace.

Your throat was dry, and you fought the urge to soothe the itch in your ankle, knowing that once you started, you'd find it hard to stop. You were absolutely silent, never moving unless thoroughly uncomfortable, never making a sound. Few others were motionless like you. The majority of the girls had been reduced to cries and screams of anguish and pain.

You didn't understand what they were shouting or crying for. It wasn't that you weren't afraid, you were, much more so than you let on. Your skin was covered in goosebumps, and your chest felt as though it were going to explode. But you had nothing to cry for. Even if you were released, you had nowhere to return to.

Your parents had been the ones to sell you off as an offering. Why would they want you if you managed to escape? So you hugged your knees tighter to your chest, holding in the tears in your eyes, praying that you would survive, even though it was more or less impossible.

Ryomen Sukuna never took brides. He had been receiving offerings for decades longer than her parents had lived. Of all the girls he'd been given, he'd never left a single one alive when she was offered.

There were people that theorised he wasn't interested in brides and just used the sacrificial ceremony as an excuse to kill women, because they never fought in any wars or battles against him, and this was the easiest way he could get a steady stream of women to slaughter.

It was a cold and sinister thought, that this whole thing was an excuse for him to slaughter. Yet, this was still your fate, and you had no choice but to accept it.

That knowledge didn't make acceptance any easier, though. You didn't want to accept a quick death. You wanted, more than anything, to live. You weren't heroic or brave. You were scared, more so than any of the girls surrounding you.

Your body shook with it, your skin blazed with that sickly feeling. Your chest hurt against your pounding heart, and your fingernails were digging into the peeling skin of your knees. Your lips quivered as you sucked in your sobs, vision blurred with tears.

You were so scared. You tried to escape into your thoughts, but the discomfort of the moisture that had seeped through the fabric of your clothing, wetting your skin, didn't allow you believe you were anywhere other than the cell.

The doors opened, a village guard walking out to pick out another victim, and you gasped loudly at the sight of a hand peeking through. It was pale, covered with splashes of blood. You choked in a sob, pushing impossibly further into the wall, wishing that you could seep through the cement.

The guard's head snapped manically in your direction, his eyes catching yours. Your stomach dropped as you made eye contact, and your lips quivered as he began taking steps in your direction. You pushed back against the hard cement, shaking your head profusely, silently begging not to be taken.

It was useless. The other girls whimpered and looked at you, and you couldn't feel sorry for them because you were the one being taken, and you knew that they were all glad it wasn't them this time. You pulled against the guard, grabbing you, trying to kick yourself further into the wall.

It made the whole thing worse. The wetness of the ground had completely damaged your clothes and had reached the skin of your butt. The continuous brushing of your body against the floor had caused it to ache.

"Stop struggling, whore. Be grateful for the honor to help your village!" The guard spat, forcibly dragging you across the floor.

You kicked and wailed, finally breaking your silence. In the end, your own screams were the loudest of all as you were being dragged away. You met the eyes of so many of the girls, all of them scared like you were, all of them happy you were taken instead of them.

"Please," you begged as your skin scraped along the hard floor, "Please, please, please! PLEASE LET ME GO!" Your pleas were futile as you were dragged through the door.

The guard shut the doors quickly, the wood banging against your fingers as you were dragged through. The volume of your screams got impossibly louder because of the pain. You were in so much pain.

The guard bent down and grabbed your hands, harshly pulling you up to your feet. You stumbled into him, forcing him back just a few steps before he hit your face and pushed you through darkness and through another door.

You stumbled through, falling and landing on your hands and knees. You cried out at the impact on your already aching fingers, falling forward unto your chest as you instinctively began holding and massaging your fingers.

The room was dark, lit by just the lighted lamps at regular intervals on the high ends of the walls. The floor was covered with blood and strands of hair and limbs. And a figure shadowed in darkness stood near the edge of the pentagon-shaped room, motionless.

Your eyes were trained on the figure in the dark, your face contorting as cries and sobs wrenched themselves from your throat. You flinched as the door closed behind you quickly, breaking your stare. You turned around just as swiftly, legs kicking through the pool of blood on the floor, pounding against the wood in frenzy. You had completely disregarded the horrible ache in your fingers as you slammed your palms against the door repeatedly, switching to pounding with closed fists. There were tears streaming down your face with your hair matted to your skin.

"PLEASE! LET ME OUT! PLEASE! COME BACK!" Your yells fell on deaf ears as you kept pounding, too scared to look behind again at what was in the room with you. You had never seen Ryōmen Sukuna in the flesh before, and you never wanted to.

"My, a really pretty one tonight," your blood ran cold at the sound of the voice coming from behind you. Your body froze, and you went silent.

A shiver ran down your spine, and your eyes widened at the sensation. His voice reverberated round the room. It was nothing short of inhuman.

You felt like throwing up.

"Why stop on my account?" You could feel the heat radiating from him as he squatted next to you.

You flinched away, falling on your hips and elbows. You hadn't even heard when he approached her. Against your better judgement and out of nothing but pure, human curiosity, you turned your head to gaze up at him.

Ryōmen Sukuna, slaughterer, demon, King of Curses.

His uncovered chest was adorned with black markings, snaking over the ridges and contours of his body. Your eyes trailed the beads of sweat that dripped from him until finally, you were looking at his face. Just like the rest of him, his fair face was adorned with black inking.

His eyes were a sinister red, like the blood moon that announced his arrival, like the blood of his victims that stained his neck. You pushed away from him, eyes wide as you memorised every feature of him, mouth slightly agape.

There was nothing that could ever make you believe him to have ever been as human as you or the guard that had thrown you in there.

Tears began falling from your eyes as he grinned at you, not because you were scared of dying, that this was your end, but because you were scared of how you were feeling in his presence. You were absolutely terrified of how his gaze made you feel, and you felt disgusted for feeling such a way for a curse.

Sukuna smiled down at you, his fangs more than visible. He stood up from his position and walked to tower over you. There was something addictive in how your eyes ran along his entire body, something he never wanted to stop seeing.

It wasn't just how they looked at him. It was your eyes in general. He stared at them intently, a shade like nothing he'd ever seen.

In that moment, he was willing to kill anything that would keep him from the prize he'd finally discovered. It was like picking up the decapitated head of the enemy captain, it was a satisfying victory he could only enjoy after mass slaughter. It was pleasure he didn't know he could feel.

He banged against the door harshly, prompting a flinch from you at the sudden sound.

The guard opened the door soon and you could see another girl's arm tight in his grasp. He was about to throw her in just as he'd done with you but the giant, pink haired cursed spirit pushed the girl away, and the guard as well, stumbled back.

"Get them out," He seethed, eyes glancing momentarily away from you to instruct the male quivering in his presence, "All of them. Get them out! The ceremony is over!"

With that, he shut the door and walked towards you again, squatting when he was just above your waist. His grin widened at how you flinched away just slightly. He reached out to grip your chin with his bloodstained hands. He tilted your chin, examining all the angles of your face. You were still shaking in his presence, and he liked that. But then he pulled his hand away and decided that he didn't like how blood looked on your face.

He still stayed there, squatting with his legs on either side of your torso. "Your eyes," he began, not knowing exactly what to say about them, "How lovely they'd look as rings of honour." In the end, he smiled and decided he liked it when your eyes widened in fear.

"You do not wish to speak?" A chuckle rumbled low in his throat. "Is your throat sore from your screams?" Before you could realize what was happening, he'd reached out to grip your throat, "Speak, you worthless mortal!"

You choked out a scream at how tight he held your throat. Your hands instinctively went to grip his, legs shuffling in struggle against him, "Please," you whimpered, tears streaming down your dirty cheeks, "Let me go, please."

Sukuna grinned manically at your face. That look was there again in your eyes. "There is a look in your eyes that I do not understand. What is it? Is it some sort of fear? What do you think of when you look at me?" He tightened his grip, moving to kneel above you and support his weight with a hand on the ground just beside your head. 

You were pushed back by his movements, your back coming in contact with the blood stained floors. "I don't know." You replied to him, fighting against your sobs, "I don't know, Sukuna."

His eyes widened, "Again." He said, leaning into you, "Speak my name again, mortal."

Your lips trembled as you began scratching at his tightening hold, "Sukuna, please. Please, Sukuna, let me go."

He let go of your neck and stared at you. His eyes raked over her eyes, sickly looking skin and hair, greasy, stained with blood, and matted to your skin. He brought his bloody knuckles against her prominent cheekbones.

"Never," he leaned forward and brought his nose to your ear, taking in a deep breath, smelling the blood and your scent. "I will never let you go."

You began to cry.

[freak-accident419]

Good Looking Boy

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: You and Billy make your endeavor to escape. Then you’re faced with Melinda. But what will even happen after all of this insanity?

Word Count: 3.0k

Content: gender neutral reader, fluff, guns, attempted suicide(?), smoking, mentions of death

(A/n: thank you for all the support, thank you all so much for reading!!)

-

“You got it yet?” Billy asks.

“Yeah, yeah, hold on, almost there,” you reply hastily.

After a while, you two decided to find different ways to escape. After your conversations and laughter would die down, you’d realize the dire situation you two were in, getting back on track as you figured Melinda could come in any second now and cause more destruction.

You two came up with the idea of releasing your leg first, which was duct taped to the chair leg, because it was probably the easiest restraint to get out of. Your position was complicated because you were laying on the floor on your side, still stuck to the chair. You shimmied your leg, gradually removing its attachment from your pants, rolling the duct tape into a thin ring that you can slide out from the chair leg.

That was the plan, at least. You weren’t successful yet.

Until you began to see the tape begin to roll in on itself, becoming thinner and more flexible around your leg, unsticking from your pants. “Oh shit!” You gasp in awe, continuing to jerk your leg. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“What? Is it working?” Billy asked, trying to look behind him, but only able to see the back legs of your chair.

“Almost, it—” Your eyes widen as you keeping moving your leg, then tried to scoop the ring of duct tape out of the chair leg, stretching it until…

“Fuck! Yes!” You exclaim in delight, slightly panting from how much energy it took. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You got it out?” He inquired urgently.

Your one leg was entirely free. Sure, it was a small victory, but it was a crucial step in getting out of here alive. “Yeah,” you replied, smiling. “Yeah, I-I did, now what?”

”Okay! Good! Alright. Good job, Y/n,” he says supportively. “Umm… Shit, now what?” He mumbled to himself in frustration.

Your other leg was still duct taped to the chair, but it was against the floor due to your position. There seemed to be no way to do the same thing you had previously done to get your first leg out.

“Um… Fuck…” you muttered.

“Maybe… Maybe we could try to break out of the zip ties. If a lot of force is used, you could potentially break it,” he suggested.

“Wouldn’t that really, like, damage our wrists or something?” You asked anxiously.

“At this point, it doesn’t fucking matter, yeah? As long as we get out of this goddamn chair,” he replied. “We should push our hands out in the opposite direction, one forceful movement by one. At the same time. And just keep repeating it until it hopefully breaks, or something.”

“Okay… Alright…” You agree.

“At the count of three…” he began, “One, two, three—”

You two jolted your wrists in the direction opposite from each other. Nothing happened. At least, not yet.

“Okay,” you breathe. “One, two, three—”

You do the same, quick motion again, using as much force as you could. Nothing yet, but you could almost feel that it was close to breaking.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself. “Alright. One, two, three.”

Another powerful yank, but still nothing.

“Okay, okay, we can do this,” you breathe. “We can do this. One, two, three—”

A snapping noise sounds as the white zip ties break, letting your wrists separate from Billy’s as you two gasp happily in relief.

“Yes! Fuck!”

The entire time, you and Billy were continuing to break out of each restraint. Billy let his single leg loose, and you two attempted to drag yourselves closer to the desk. Finally, you stretched your leg and used your shoe to drag the scissors off the desk, pushing it on the floor to your hands. It was finally in range and you grabbed it, first cutting the tape that withheld your upper arms and torsos, giving you enough reach to cut the other zip tie.

After a few quick moments, once you two felt free of all the restraints, you immediately scampered out from the chair on the floor in opposite directions, picking yourself up until you stood, completely and wholeheartedly free.

You two immediately turned around, looking down at the two chairs on the floor, then finally looking up at each other.

Billy was very attractive.

He was practically the epitome of handsome. Like, he wasn’t the most attractive guy in the entire history of them, but he was strikingly cute. The first thing you noticed was the burn on the side of his face, in which you then remembered he told you that it was Melinda’s doing. He wore a fleece jean jacket and light blue skinny jeans, and a small gold earring. And while you were falling for him as you had conversed, you felt like you were falling even deeper as you saw his soft brown eyes.

There was a bit of silence between you two as you just looked at each other. You had been stuck together for almost an hour, but you had already gained a mutual admiration for each other.

Billy didn’t expect you to be this attractive. Actually, he didn’t really expect anything, and neither did you. But he truly and indefinitely believed that you were beautiful. Probably the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.

He broke the silence by clearing his throat, walking over to you. He wasn’t very tall, but that sort of just added to his charm. He took out his hand. “Thought we should’ve had a proper introduction. I’m Billy.” You could feel his mannerisms be a bit rushed because you were still in the same building of a psychopath.

“I’m Y/n,” you shake his hand quickly.

“Nice shirt.”

“Nice jacket.”

Billy turns around, then looks at the lockers with intrigue. He slowly makes his way towards it, looking at each of the small vaults. As you watched this, your eyes trailed downward, seeing a long, dark green bag on the floor by the wall. Your attention was pulled away from it, however, as he brought his hand inside of one locker, seemingly grabbing something from inside it.

You felt your heart race as you saw the revolver in his hands. It was like he was able to sense your fear, because he tucked it into his pants immediately and walked towards you unthreateningly. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he claims. You nodded softly. You trusted him. Even though you only knew each other for such a short period of time, you two had told each other so much about yourselves. It was a weird shared trauma bond, that made you wish you met on different circumstances.

“How are your wrists?” He asks gently.

You present them to him. “They’re okay,” you answered. He took your hands into his, observing the faint bruise along the wrist that you broke out the zip tie with. His fingertips were soft on your skin, the brief contact making your face heat up, almost. You then move your hands under his to see the small indents on his wrists caused by the zip ties, rubbing over it softly with your thumb. You two look up at each other and chuckle softly, looking back down and coyly smiling to yourselves.

“We should—we should go,” you say after a while.

“Right. Yeah,” Billy says, letting go of each other’s hands then cautiously looking at the desolate, white door that would lead into the store. Before you could take another step towards it, it slowly opened by itself.

And Melinda her-fucking-self was behind it.

She had a look of shock on her face, as she didn’t expect to come back to her captives being free. Immediately, Billy took out his gun, pointing it at her, making her involuntary raise her hands up in surrender, placing his other arm in front of you, letting you stay behind him.

There was fear in Melinda’s watery eyes. She let out small sniffles as she looked at the barrel of the gun, then at you and Billy.

“I-I didn’t mean for all of this to happen,” she stammered, voice cracking and tears gradually falling down. “You… You can take the money and go, it’s-it’s all there.”

You wondered what was wrong with her. What exactly drove her to do all this stuff. How she never called the cops on Billy and instead tie him up. How she tied you up because you witnessed it.

“This didn’t have to be complicated, Melinda,” Billy says sternly, a look of hatred and disgust towards her.

“I-I know,” she whispered.

“And… and you brought them into this for no reason too! They were fucking innocent, and you just had to bring them into this! I mean, I get that you would tie me up, I robbed you, but Y/n? Innocent.” He asserted. “You made me kill somebody, Melinda. I am not a killer, but you… you made me kill Sheila. You fucking made me kill somebody.”

“No, I- I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please. You can just go. I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry. The money is on the floor. Behind the counter. Just leave me alone, please,” she pleaded, continuing to cry. She then looked at you. “I’m sorry-I’m sorry I tied you up too, I was scared that you’d get the police.”

You sighed heavily and looked at Billy, relying on him for direction. But she continued on, making you look back at her again.

“I—I’m going to burn this whole place down.” She claimed. “I’ve covered the entire store in gasoline, just leave while you still can, p-please.”

“Why the fuck should I believe anything you say?” There was hostility in his voice. “Walk.” He ordered, waving the gun around, gesturing for her to walk back into the store.

Billy walks towards her as she goes backwards, with you following him. The neon blue lights of the store caressed your skin as you passed the door, completely leaving the employees only back room and being met with short aisles, composed of shelves filled with candy and chips.

“The money, it’s back there,” she pointed as you were now all in the center of the store. He looked at her with suspicion, slowly making his way to the front counter. You followed behind him, leaving Melinda with her hands up as Billy seemed to have found it, grabbing a black backpack and swinging it over his shoulders. Then, you two turned around to see Melinda, except…

She looked at you two with bloodshot, sad eyes, and an ignited lighter in her right hand. Shit. You looked down, and it appears she wasn’t lying, because gasoline coated the bottom of your shoes. “Okay, good, you can… you can have the money, just… just leave me now, please,” she begged.

“Wait. Let’s just… We can get you help, okay?” You offered, feeling a bit of sympathy for her. You knew she wasn’t exactly right in the head.

“Y/n, no,” Billy warned, looking at you sternly. “I honestly love how you continue to prove to me how much of a good heart you have, but Melinda? She is fucking crazy.”

“That’s why we should, I don’t know, get the cops, get her to a hospital—“

“Y/n. You don’t know what she’s done. Plus, we cannot get the cops involved. What are we gonna tell them, huh? What, are we gonna mention the fact that I was trying to rob the place? That it was my gun that fucking killed Sheila?” He stammered, which ultimately saddened you. “This woman is beyond redemption, okay?”

“So what? What, are we just going to watch her set herself on fire? Yeah? You’re really going to be okay with that?”

“Y/n, please. I don’t want to argue with you. It’s us or her. Do you see the goddamn lighter in her hand? She’s going to drop it any second and she is not going to wait for us, so we have to go. Okay?” He urged, grabbing onto your shoulder and leading you two to the backdoor, still pointing his gun at Sheila.

“Billy, wait,” you plead. “What if she’s just bluffing?”

“And risk catching on fucking fire, huh? We have no fucking time, let’s go!” He exclaimed, leading you out to the backdoor, your eyes meeting with Melinda before you were abruptly shoved outside.

It was freezing. Every exhale you took was visible in the cold air.

Billy closed the back door, moving the dumpster to block the exit. You two stood outside, a few feet away from the building, waiting for it to be set in flames. But it wasn’t. So either Melinda was truthfully bluffing or changed her mind. But you felt grateful, because you would’ve felt guilty if she hadn’t.

You took out a pack of cigarettes from your pocket, grabbing one from it, placing it between your lips and taking out a lighter from your other pocket. As you first exhale, you watch the back of the building. Nothing going on at all.

You weren’t sure what would happen after this. If Melinda would go to the police. If Billy would get caught and/or pay back his debt with the bikers. And what would you do?

You turn your head to look at Billy.

“May I…?” He trailed off, gesturing to the cigarette in between your fingers.

You chuckle under your breath then handed him it, watching him place it in his mouth and taking a drag. It was kind of silent. And it was still cold.

“Are you gonna go pay off your debt now?” You ask him softly.

You watched the smoke escape his lips as he nods. “Yeah. Then I’ll just… get the hell out of this fucking place…”

There was another moment of silence. An uncomfortable, uncertain silence.

“Will I… Will I ever see you again?” You ask hesitantly as he hands you back your cigarette.

He gives a low chuckle, offering you a gentle smile. “You’d really want to see me again?”

You hummed softly. “I feel like it’d be nice…” You say quietly. “Maybe when I’ll be getting gas again, you’re there to rob the store.”

He scoffed. “Y/n—“

“I’m messing with you,” you let out a small laugh. He smiles at you. You felt comfortable now. And you shouldn’t have been, because it was fucking freezing, but as cliché as it was, he was warming your heart.

He looked into your eyes deeply, which drove you to observe his soft face. You couldn’t exactly describe what his facial expression was or meant at this moment—until he expressed it with his words:

“Come with me, Y/n. Please.”

It was urgency. It was a look of urgency and desperation.

“I’ll pay off the biker assholes and then—then I’ll pick you up and we can leave together. Come on. How does that sound?”

“Billy, I—“ You were shocked. You didn’t want to throw your whole life out in this way. You were very fond of Billy, you could swear it, but this was too much. “I can’t, I… It’s just too… too crazy.”

“I-I understand. Completely. But fuck, I… I don’t want to lose you…”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You felt bad. You didn’t want to lose him either. Goddamnit, why did he have to be a damn fugitive?

“Somebody’s gonna have to work cashier number five for Macy’s, Billy,” you joke softly. You put out the cigarette on the snow and grabbed his hand. It was comfortable in yours, fingers fidgeting with each other, rubbing the skin tenderly. You rubbed your thumb over the gold ring that embraced his index finger, in which the metal was warm against your skin. “If we were in… another circumstance, maybe I would. But… I can’t just throw my life away like this. While you’d be starting anew, I’d be discarding everything I’ve ever known. I can’t sacrifice that for you.”

He nodded, staring at his hand in yours. He wouldn’t have thought you would have agreed anyway. He just had so much hope. Like his goddamn Marlboro, he wanted more of you. “Right… Okay, I understand,” he reckons dejectedly.

“I’m sorry,” you say warmly as you watch his thumb move across the back of your hand. You look back up at him.

“It’s okay,” he replies gently. “I hope I’ll see you again, Y/n.”

“Me too,” you add.

“Goodbye, Y/n. Thanks for… for getting us out of that shit hole. And… being a good person.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “Give yourself some credit, dude. We escaped together. It was a team effort. And also… I think you’re genuinely a good person too. You were just… faced with unlucky predicaments.”

He grins appreciatively, letting out a small chuckle. He looked down at your hands that were in his, then back at you. “Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Billy,” you felt the warmth of his hands leave yours, making his way back to the front of the gas station to get to his car, leaving you there to stand alone in the cold…

*** A Few Weeks Later ***

If you had to do a rundown of everything that had happened ever since, then it would be simple—you got away with all of it. Melinda must have had permanently discarded all of the camera footage before police could get it. But as seen in the news, she was arrested for accessory to murder, then hospitalized from signs of mental illness. It seemed that she didn’t reveal much and ended up lying, because you never saw Billy’s face or information on any wanted posters.

Now you were at your job, working as a cashier, handing a woman her receipt after she paid for her items. She then left with her bags after chirping an expression of gratitude. Your head remains downward, sort of dispirited and not in the mood today. “Welcome, did you find everything alright?” You enunciate in monotone, yet with a slight endeavored cheerful tone, as you saw the figure of the new customer in your peripheral vision. You grabbed the single item that the customer placed on the counter and scanned it sluggishly.

However, you finally paid attention to your surroundings and realized what the purchase was: a Kentucky Wildcats cap. You let a sharp inhale, as the sports team only reminded you of…

You look up to see the customer standing in front of you. Your eyes widen as your breathing stopped.

You really couldn’t believe your eyes.

There was a smirk on his face as you felt a blissful smile begin to tug on your lips.

“‘Go Wildcats,’ am I right?” Billy recites.

[mydarlingclaudia]

this is life

note : divider is from @/the-aesthetics-shop. ermm never written Chris before idk how good this is and ik it's ooc and this is way short. this wasn't in my wip game thing because I started this like 4 hours ago but I love him very much so uh here I feel scared. is it obvious I don't know how to do a good description.

wc : 1.2k

tags : @lottiies

desc : like a lover should. fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst (not really tho), established relationship, any Chris but at the end it's post re8!Chris, fem!reader, not proofread.

Chris knows the sounds of explosions and gunfire more than he knows anything else. He knows the feeling of blood-soaked clothes and heavy bulletproof vests weighing down on his chest as if they’re meant to be worn everyday. He’ll never forget the weight of a gun in his hand, won’t forget how to curl his fingers around a knife and hold it outwards, waiting for whatever is going to lunge at him from the darkness.

But Chris knows the sound of your voice, too. Knows the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips, how your weight feels lying on top of him late at night. He loves how your hand squeezes his, how your arms wrap around his neck to hold him closer.

His apartment became yours once you stepped into his life. Your makeup is scattered across the counter in his bathroom, your clothes are in his closet, your soaps are in his shower, the smell of his cigarettes quickly mixed with the smell of your perfume. Chris loves it, really. It didn’t happen overnight, Chris wasn’t around all that much, but you always waited and showed up whenever you wanted to, he gave you a spare key for a reason.

He thinks you care about him more than you should, that you shouldn't worry about him so much and that you don't need to give him a massage every time he comes home along with an actual meal instead of whatever food was being rationed out to him on his latest mission. But you do, every single time. Chris wishes you would sleep and not stay up texting him when he tells you he's on his way home, he won't admit that seeing your endless row of texts filling his screen with news of what he's missed over the past few days never fails to make him smile.

You've always known that what Chris does is dangerous, you don't know that he fights monsters straight out of sci-fi movies, but what matters to you is that he comes home in one piece. Truth is, you love him, and he lets you. Chris isn't always the easiest to love and care for, you know there are things he doesn't tell you, but the way he holds you in the morning while he's still asleep is something else entirely.

The time that you did learn about everything he did was after the Edonia and China mess.

You thought he left you, what else were you supposed to think when he went completely radio silent for almost a year? No one seemed to know where he was, you hadn't gotten any news that he was dead, so he had to still be alive, right? You still took care of his apartment, making sure no one broke in, you were hardly back at your own place the whole time he was away, you were just hoping that a few things would be moved around the apartment whenever you came to check on it, just a hint that he was back home and hadn't told you yet.

But he went to your home the night he came back, was there to catch you when you broke down and cried about all the horrible things you thought had happened to him. At least he showered before he came to you. He sounded like a broken record, apologizing over and over again while you just clutched onto his shirt with your head buried in his shoulder.

It took you maybe an hour to calm down, he had the decency to wait for you to stop hiccuping through your tears before he explained himself. You've got every right to be mad at him, and he knows you are, but he's sure you'll nag him some other time when you're not holding onto him like a lifeline.

You probably don't even believe what he's telling you about bioweapons, you don't even know what the fuck that word really means, but it's his job to get rid of them, play exterminator. You just sat there on your bed with a confused expression the whole time, leaning on his shoulder while you sniffled softly. They're monsters, that's how he described them, like something you see in nightmares.

"So... what, like... Godzilla, or something? That's what they are?" You asked him, eyebrows still knitted together. Chris just looked at you, not really sure how to tell you that the undead weren't even in the same category as some of the things he's fought over the years.

"Yeah, kinda." He didn't need to explain further, you were too tired to comprehend the horrors mankind could make. So he let you sleep, kept you in his arms the whole night. He'd wait until tomorrow to tell you he had to keep doing this until the day he died, but he promised to not keep you waiting the next time he leaves.

—

Chris decides that years later, when you're in the kitchen, sitting across from him at the table burping a baby over your shoulder, not his, not yours, that he can't lose you. He almost lost Jill, did lose Piers and Ethan, along with countless other teammates along the line. But now he's got Ethan's baby in his house, he told you more things about his job now, he told you what happened to Ethan and that Rose would be in his care for a little bit, you had only smiled at him.

He should've married you by now. God, what kind of man was he? Dating the woman of his dreams for over a decade and never even trying to propose? He doesn't know why you let him get away with that. You've long since moved in with him, all your things were practically in his apartment by the time he asked if you just wanted to stay and not leave, took absolutely nothing to convince you.

And looking at you with Rose in your arms finally makes him realize as he's pushing fifty that he should have settled with you sooner. Maybe you just never asked because of his job, maybe you were fine with how things were.

"Did you... ever want kids?" He mumbled, avoiding your gaze and instead staring into his coffee cup. You have to think for a second, still rocking the baby in your arms back and forth.

"One would've been nice." You answer him. Shit, now he feels like he's ruined everything.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I'm happy we waited." Chris looked up at you, not expecting to be greeted with the smile on your face. You stand up to put Rose into her highchair so you can go get your toast from the toaster, Chris follows you after a few seconds.

"Don't know how you put up with me," His hands find their way to your waist, pressing his chest to your back and resting his head against yours. His hands are still rough from years in battle, he doesn't think he'll ever really be able to relax, but you still love to dote on him whenever you can, it makes him feel like he's meant to be here with you.

"Well, you're quite handsome." Chris smiles and presses a kiss to the side of your head, there have been mornings like this hundreds of times, he can only hope for more in the future.

"You're too good to me."

"Lucky you,"

"I know." He's got the day off, he should go buy you a ring, make things more permanent than they already are.

[milla-frenchy]

Fav Joel series

All of them are 18+ and nsfw

Please check for each fic all the warnings indicated by the author

Summaries are those written by the authors

Raider Joel @toxicanonymity

You think Joel is saving you from the bad guys, but he's claiming you for himself. You're his now, and he won't let you or his men forget it. How long until Stockholm syndrome sets in? Will his persona start to crack?

Slasher Joel @toxicanonymity

He's a tow truck driver and you're stranded. You're already DTF but end up fucking for your life when you offend him.

Night walks @toxicanonymity

Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but not really. You can't stop fucking him after that.

Carnal @pascalsbby

You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth.

Dom!Joel @atticrissfinch

The wrong number that texts you ends up being a man much hotter than you’d ever expect…

⭐ Meet me in the back @atticrissfinch

When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative

I know it when I see it @bageldaddy

It's the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name texas.

I can be your pretty girl @walkintotheriveranddisappear

After your bodily insecurities stop you from exploring your sexuality, your dad's best friend offers to help you gain some confidence and help prepare you for experiences with men. as things progress with joel, you realize he's taking advantage of you, but that doesn't stop you from having a good time, too.

Online friends @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Hot single dilfs in your area want to chat, and you're more than willing to comply (anonymous sex chatting with joel)

Something wretched about this @covetyou

Your father has been medicating his long term illness for as long as you can remember, and he'd always been grateful to find medication suppliers even after the world went to shit. When he can't pay up, what lengths will you go to to protect your entire world?

Ravish @psychedelic-ink

Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

Ghost of you @thetriumphantpanda

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Trial & error @thetriumphantpanda

Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you’ve ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That’s what brothers are for, right?

Come away with me @thetriumphantpanda

Four years have passed and you’ve managed to raise a beautiful baby boy into a sweet little boy. Four years of one night with Joel Miller and countless others with his brother. You’ve been trying for months now for your second baby and it’s proving much more difficult than first time around, so Joel has a plan. One week, alone, on the lake, with one goal - another baby.

A lover's pinch @hier--soir

A one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

You summer dream @swiftispunk

Fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.

Lost in the dark @iamasaddie

One time you decide to cheat on your boyfriend is, of course, the time his dad catches you. Once normal relationship turns into something new, and you are forced to face the fucked up reality of your life

Hard to be soft, tough to be tender @iamasaddie

Desperation was never a good advisor, and yours led to find yourself as a very special person among Joel Miller's birds. You'll have to see for yourself if you have what it takes to live up to the status, and in the meantime Joel will "train" you and take care of you. // Joel Miller is a pimp and you are at your all time low, that's it.

Feelings on fire @joelscruff

You're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

With pleasured hands @magpiepills

You’re Tommy Miller’s girlfriend, you’re on vacation with him and Joel, Tommy likes it when you’ve got an audience, Joel prefers being an active participant

Bullet for you darlin' @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

Joel takes something a little more personal from you after you run out of things to trade

Sunshine @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

A look at the innocent relationship between Sunshine and Joel till one night something changes the course of their relationship forever. 'Loss and heartbreak often turn the best of us into our worst selves.'

⭐ latest series added (11/18/2023)

HUGE thank you to all the authors 🙏🙏🙏

Fics recs

[anathemaspeaks]

what was i made for?

character(s): toji fushiguro synopsis: toji doesn't believe he deserves love - until you come along. word count: 0.6k warning(s): none, it's purely fluff a/n: tried something new lemme know how you feel about thisss

reblogs, follows, and likes are appreciated :)

i used to float, now i just fall down i used to know, but i'm not sure now what was i made for?

toji who thinks he is not worthy of love. he is not a man deserving enough to have someone to care for him, someone who chooses to stay with him simply because they want to, not because they gain something out of it. all he did was cause pain, anyways. he was better off alone.

what was i made for?

his path had been one of solitude for god knows how long. looked down upon by everyone, barely surviving physically and mentally - a man, no, a monster who gave up his own son. people like him don't get second chances.

nobody can love a monster. nobody even wants to be around one.

taking a drive, i was an ideal looked so alive, turns out i'm not real just something you paid for

toji who had no one left in this world, nothing to live for, nothing but a shell of the man he used to be - the man he could have been. he was useless. empty. a man without a purpose. someone else's puppet. he didn't have any power over his own life. he was pathetic.

what was i made for? cause i don't know how to feel but i wanna try

vacant, brutal words engraved onto his soul. he was a monster, and he always will be. that is just how his life will be - his destiny. he would just be alive, never quite living, silently wishing he could end it all.

i don't know how to feel but someday, i might

and then you - who crashes into his life in all your frustratingly captivating glory and finds a home in his heart. you thought toji fushiguro was no monster, he was just a man who had been hurt and misunderstood far too many times. a broken man. you saw right through his tough façade. you were the first person who showed him how it felt to be seen as something other than a fraud of a human.

when did it end? all the enjoyment i'm sad again, don't tell my boyfriend it's not what he's made for what was i made for?

falling in love with you was the easiest thing he ever had to do. you, with your kind eyes and gentle smile. you, with your warm words and and comforting presence. you, who never pitied him. quite the opposite, really. a man who had been through so much, and who still fought so hard every single day, how could you not be wonderstruck and completely infatuated by him?

you, the only person who made him feel safe.

cause i don't know how to feel but i wanna try

toji, who would rather die than ever see you cry. toji, who doesn't really know what love is, but gives you the whole world. toji, who isn't used to healthy communication, but for you, he tries. toji, who still has a lot to learn, but is perfect in your eyes. toji, who is only happy when he's with you. toji, who is always there for you. toji hadn't been sure of anything in his life until you.

i don't know how to feel but someday, i might

toji who gets his spark back. he knows who he is, and it's all because of you. toji who fixes his life, but can he even call it his when it's all for you? toji who doesn't even have to think twice about it when he asks you to marry him.

and you don't have to think twice about it when you say yes.

think i forgot how to be happy something i'm not, but something i can be

toji who would gladly spend the rest of his life with you. he was a man who had nothing, but with you in his arms, he has the whole world. a man considered to be stoic and unaffectionate, absolute putty in your hands. you would always have him wrapped around your finger.

and he would have it no other way.

something i wait for something i'm made for

toji, who finally gets the happy ever after he thought he didn't deserve.

this is all based on a true story btw, we're getting married soon 💋

[gildedmuse]

Fandom rookie here. Could you please walk me through your Zoro/Law and Zoro/Ace HCs? Love your humor btw!

Ahhh! A little fandom greenhorn! So cute!

You have asked the wrong person the wrong question, newbie.

ZoLaw:

Zoro is from the East, and while he isn't use to Winter Island Cold, he naturally runs hot. Law is from the North and while he HATES being stuck on Summer Islands on hot days, he naturally runs cool. They balance each other beautifully when they share a bed.

Up in the North Blue, it's considered weak to admit that you're cold. Weaknesses gets people killed in the North Blue, so having someone imply you need an extra blanket is a direct insult to a person's ability to keep themselves and their loved ones alive. So obviously Law would never need the extra heat.... But he MAY find himself scooting closer to Zoro-ya on the chillier nights.

The handle of a katana isn't the only thing Zoro can talk around.

...

(Cock. He can talk around a mouth full of cock. And Law LOVES it. Its the only time he can stand one of the Strawhats yapping on).

Look, Law is scientifically minded and likes to believe he is very rational (that's open to debate). He's seen Zoro-ya in the sea and knows he doesn't have a devil's fruit. But sometimes it feels like he does. SPECIFICALLY, one that somehow manages to undo every single one of Law's plans. Because the problem certainly isn't in Law! His plans are complex and perfect. But anytime he comes up for one about how to, say, ask Zoro-ya out it always somehow manages to go terribly wrong. It MUST be a devil's fruit ability.

The first time Zoro actually properly asks Torao out, he first bows to and addresses Kikoku. Since it's imperative he has the curse blades permission to touch his master (especially with all the touching Zoro has planned).

Law doesn't get jealous. That's petty and below him

Law has personally threatened at least three shichibukai and one very (also highly annoying) horny yonko. Not because he was jealous, they just need to step off and stop looking at HIS Zoro-ya that way.

If you ask the boys when they started dating, you get VASTLY different answers. Law would argue that while he'd of course taken notices of the other Supernova back on Saboady, the boy then disappeared for two years and besides Law had a lot of plans that he needed to focus on and execute perfectly. They didn't really see each other again until after Punk Hazard and of course Law was very distracted until after Doflamingo..... Then the horrors they saw on Zou, though, admitedly he may have found himself distracted by Zoro-ya once or twice even at the time.... You know, he would say it was Wano. It was Wano when he realized what an idiot the other boy was, and how he absolutely needed Law on the ground watching after him or he would do something amazingly stupid like... Like listening to Law's plan for instance! When Zoro-ya endangering his life was CLEARLY not what Law intended! Yes, that is when Law decided this boy simply couldn't be considered safe unless Law is there to watch after him..... Also, it's sometimes nice when Zoro-ya looks after him as well.... SOMETIMES.

Zoro would say "Did you see Torao cut that island in half?" And that is all he has to say on the subject of when they started dating.

Law has noticed that Zoro-ya doesn't seem to pay much attention to what he wears, just picks up what is nearest and easiest and throws it on. On an unrelated note, Law has been "accidentally" making sure to strip down right by their bed, and leaving his shirts right there. His shirts with his jolly roger.

Nico Robin had to use not just her ability but her most Teacherly voice in order to separate Luffy and Law when Zoro shows up with the Heart Jolly Roger on his shirt. Law's smirking about it (while Zoro remained utterly confused through the entire fight) didn't help.

Zoro is super weak to people playing with his ear. This goes double when it's Torao and his stupid, sexy hands. He already wants to squirm whenever he watches Torao do that stupid switch-switch thing, but once Torao starts to sit closer and, even while reading his fingers seem to find their way to Zoro's earrings..... Twirl twirl twirl, TUG. Its enough to break Zoro's brain.

Historically, Northern denizens tended to have shorter and much more dangerous lifes compared to the relatively safe and stable East Blue, leading to them having a much different view of things like romance and marriage. That's part of why tattoos are so popular among North Blue denizens. However short your inevitably short life is, a tattoo is permanent. You can't change your mind or take it back. It's a way of wearing your loyalty.

Right behind his ear, the same side as his piercings, Zoro has a small black heart tattoo. He got it on their way up to Wano.

Usopp still doesn't understand how Zoro got lost on a submarine. He didn't see him for a whole four days! What's so funny, Robin.....

I actually have a number of HCs for these two that basically boil down to "Each Island should have its own culture, and by extension, each Blue should have its own culture the way each state has its own culture but the USA also has its own general culture." This can range from things like what I mentioned above, about North Blue having historically shorter lives due to the harsher environment or being more technologically advanced. But I also had smaller things like Law kissing Zoro-ya on the nose, since up North that was how you showed affection to family or younger friends and acquaintances. I also went the entire opposite direction of "smaller" and invented an entirely Shinto derived religion that's customs and kami differed based on the Blue.

I even came up with particular weather that happen almost strictly up North (Ice Storms which are incredibly deadly at sea and Black Mist, a yet unexplained phenomena that seems to choke the life out of any one who gets caught outside) and then wrote up an entire "Old North" mythology that explains the two phenomena and why they often follow each other even though one happens strictly on land and the other typically at sea. I pretty much full on created a whole religion and mythology and wrote individual stories just so Law could have a whole culture that belonged to HIS blue. The myth in question involved a human falling for a siren, and just like actual myths I created multiple retellings and versions where the characterization changed depending on the message the storyteller was trying to express. But in most every version the Siren, Isa, had green hair (because of course the North associates green hair with fertility; oh that's another thing, I created a whole sex profession hierarchy for the North Blue with the one common feature among different types of sex workers being they typically dyed their hair green, like that was a way to physically depict that you were fertile and later that you were, you know, open to being fertilized) and regardless of how they are depicted they end up turning into the shards of an Ice Storm either because they accidentally take human captain's life, do so and then regret their hunger, or are told they have killed them and in turn kill themselves. Law was told the latter version as a child and so always felt bad for Isa, who didn't know they were eating the captain's life force but the crew could have just told him and he would have left and instead because he is "different" they think it's better if he simply destroys himself. It's a character Law can both identify with but also see aspects of Zoro in; both his physical appearance which I'm sure to Law he just pictures Zoro now, but also in his loyalty and honor which aren't as important values up North which instead values survival and strength.

As you can see if I presented an accurate list of my HCs for these two, it would be insane and make no Earthly sense. I just really enjoy world building, especially when that world building leads to two hot sword boys pining after one another.

Oh, did I mention the whole "green hair = sex worker" association and just how personally All Hearts Law takes that when applied to his Zoro-ya?

Yeah.....

ZoBurn FistRo PortZoro

ZoAce:

Upon meeting him during Alabaster, every single non Luffy Strawhat was - at least a little -totally into Ace. He just seemed so cool (and also hot.) He's like a sexy Luffy and the whole crew wanted some.

Zoro wanted it the most, bitches

[timchalamet-devoted]

A lover's confessions

A/N: I've been gone for so long 🥲 But I did manage to write something for you guys.

Summary: The reader finds a letter-filled box in the floor of the wardrobe. As curiosity takes over, they start reading through them.

Pairing: fem reader x Timothée

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had just made it past the front door exhausted and muscles aching. You dropped the keys onto the kitchen counter with a loud clang and kicked off your shoes, sighing with relief. You noted that the house seemed quiet, so you assumed that Timothée hadn't finished filming yet.

Knowing he would be gone for the next couple of hours, you decided to run a bath, an excellent way to ease body.

Once finished, you wrapped yourself up in a towel, and headed to the kitchen, grabbing some leftovers from yesterday before settling down on the couch.

You unlocked the phone, the time displayed on the screen. Only half an hour had passed.

Exasperated at the lack of his presence, you concluded that watching something would be the easiest way to kill time, and yet eventually, you got bored of that too.

2 hours later, and still the door remained shut. By now, your body felt cold, and as much as you enjoyed time to yourself, you were desperate to hold him in your arms.

You remembered the hoodie of his that you managed to nick a while back, and hopped off the couch, trudging to your empty master bedroom. Upon reaching it, you made a beeline for the drsser, only to find that it wasn't there.

You checked the wardrobe next, once again disappointed. However, just before you were about to close the doors, something on the flooring of the wardrobe caught your eye; a crack you thought.

Knowing that you may have been conceived by the dim lighting, you kneeled down to inspect further. Yes, you were right! It was a crack. Carefully, you slotted your fingers into the opening and hooked them around the wood, prying it upwards. To your delight, it gave in quite easily, revealing a hollow underneth, with a single box inside. You reached in, extracting the box and placing it on the floor beside you.

You pulled the lid off, a quizzical expression crossing your face. The box was filled to the brim with paper. Specifically, letters.

You picked one up, beginning to read, and instantly, your jaw dropped.

You had come to the realisation that these were letters written by Timothée, and even better? They were addressed to you.

You read on, curiosity flowing through your being.

' My dear Y/n,

Will it ever be possible to put into perspective how much I love you? It's a crazy cacophony of feelings, and an intricate pattern carefully woven, all of it, all at once. It seems your name has found itself deep into my heart, clutching it, never letting go. It seems as though your name had been etched on, as permanent as forever.'

Tears were beginning to swell in your eyes at his words

'The pure joy you make me feel is uncompramisable; it's the most magnificent thing how you can simply smile, and everything seems to fade away. My pain. My worries. Everything.

A simple touch of your skin has the power to soothe even the deepest of cuts and heal the most brocken of souls.

You picked up another letter

'Oh, mon amour, my star. You are the moon that guides through the darkness. Oh, how could I ever live without you?

They say you don't start living until you meet your true love, and I think what they say is true. You've filled my world with some much love, so much light, and purpose that I never knew about. My world has grown and flew and flourished, and all with you by my side.

I call you my better half, for you are all the things that I will never be, although I hope that one day I'll be half as good as you are.

To this day, it doesn't quite fall into place in my mind, how I got so lucky to be with you. You are an angel on earth, and me? Your faithful follower. You've made me the happiest man alive, my y/n.

And another.

'I watched you today. I couldn't help but stare; my eyes just didn't seem to want to look away. I wanted to study every feature, memorise it all. You looked so peacuful, so at ease, so beautiful. The moonlight shone on your skin perfectly, creating an iridescent glow. I could see every freckle. There were 17. I counted.

With your eyes half closed, I could still see the vivid colours, full with love for me.

A gentle smile played on your lips, wamring my heart. You looked like heaven itself, and all I wanted to do was to hold you in my arms for all eternity, melted together, souls as one.

You heard the keys jingle, instantly dropping the papers from your grasp, letting them fall to the floor.

You tripped over yourself, fingers fumbling in a poor attempt to conceal the box once more. However, to your dismay, Timothée walked in just a second too soon, eyes latching on the cardboard box in your hand.

You witnessed his eyes widening in horror, face reddening instantly.

He parted his lips as if to speak, yet when no sound came out, closed them into a tight line.

He buried his face in his hands, concealing his embarrassed expression.

He mumbled something into his palms, completely incomprehensible. You reached out a hand, gently stroking his shoulder, moving to his hair to comb through his curls.

Despite your compassion towards Timothée, you had to admit you found his flustered state incredibly sweet.

Finally, he let his hands fall to his sides, peering at you from underneath his chocolate curls.

A small smile spread across his face, mirrored by your own, which then turned into a chuckle and then into hysterical laughter.

You were glad rhat he found this situation as amusing as you: finding love letters hidden under the wardrobe floorboards was quite a laugh.

Once you calmed down, he spoke up.

" I- Oh god, it's so embarrassing! No one even writes letters anymore."

"Hey, Timmy I think it's tremendously cute. Truly, I love them."

"Really?" He seemed to relax slightly at your words, but still evidently quite self-conscious.

"Goodness, yes Timothée! Actually, it's the loveliest thing anyone's ever done fore me."

At this, his demeanour changed entirely, suddenly leaping at you, embracing you in a tight hold.

[nobody-for-sure]

Language Barrier

Since there might still be some confusion: friendship levels dictate which words can be understood at any given time (which obviously increases by level). As a result, depending on the words used and the complexity of the discussion, characters of middle levels may be able to understand everything or almost nothing in a sentence.

Chapter 16

(~2.6k words, see chapter list here)

You have to take a moment to reassure yourself that all those yandere fanfictions were way out of character, because otherwise you'd be running for the hills already.

"What do you mean, I can't leave?" you ask slowly. Already, you're getting a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"Just what I said," the yaksha responds blandly. "You saw, didn't you?"

It takes you a minute to figure out what he's referring to, but then it hits you. Ah. The cliff from before. "Do you mean the whole mountain is like that?"

He gives a single nod, and you grimace. In that case, you did see. Certainly, no one's getting up or down by foot; it was far too steep for that. Furthermore, a portion of the side of the mountain appeared to be delicately concave. You doubt anyone - much less you - could climb it. (In fact, given which nation you're in... you're starting to wonder if it was deliberately built that way. Perhaps this is intended to be a place only certain people can access?)

While you're wondering about this, Xiao reaffirms your initial realization. "If you can't use the thing, you can't leave. That's the only way."

"But- you don't use the waypoi- the thing, right?"

"No, I don't."

"So we can still leave that way, can't we?"

Xiao looks you in the eye and raises an eyebrow. "Can you?"

You pause. It feels like a trick question somehow, but Xiao's not really the roundabout type. "Well, uh... you can, right?"

"If you think I can take you with me, think again."

You feel like he's just pulled the rug out from underneath you. "What??? Why not?" But he's teleported with the traveler before, right?

"Your ikvuru is too kravxw."

"My what is too what?!" A note of panic creeps into your voice, now that your last hope is crumbling in front of you.

In response, the adeptus gives you a discerning look. "Qpog down," he says. His voice is not especially gentle, but it lacks the same harshness as sometimes. He purses his lips. "...I can't say it any vupsqyw. Think about it. You are far more pejvubas than me... even if you can't ipuuvj udypyxe your vubas. No one can ipywou uxopesyroq such poyxroxwfew poxruqupu ikvuru without ugruetuwrag, which is what you're asking me to do." He pauses. "Do you get it?"

Not even a little bit, you want to say, but you run his words through your head again. There's room for interpretation, for sure. The situation must be a lot more complicated than you expected, since he presumably explained the easiest way possible, and you still only caught half of it. But his end message is clear: one way or another, it seems what you're asking simply can't be done.

Is it because you're the Divine Creator?

"Think about it." Who would be capable of moving an all-powerful being through space-time on a whim?

"No one," you say slowly, uncertainly echoing the words you caught. "No one can do it."

Xiao nods once. "Ipxgocu. That's why the things were made."

Your shoulders slump. Welp. That's that, then. There's no way I'm making it down that alive. Looks like my dumb ass is finally going to suffer the consequences of my actions-

Your stomach suddenly gurgles unceremoniously.

-by starving to death on this mountaintop, probably. You grimace. Between the teleportation, the hilichurl encounter, and your time with Xiao, the sun has all but vanished from the sky. The last time you ate was around midday. By now, you probably would've eaten dinner with the others at the inn, but...

"Oh shit, the others." Your mind suddenly jumps back to your poor stranded escort squad back at the inn. You initially planned to send them a message once you got down the mountain, but now... "Xiao, at the inn - uh, the place I came from - there's some people who were with me. Can you please go and tell them what happened and apologize for me?" you say in a rush. "They-"

The yaksha vanishes in a flash of teal light before you have a chance to describe your companions. ...Well, you're grateful that he understood the urgency of the situation, at least. You gnaw at your lip, imagining their reaction to you suddenly up and disappearing. Fuck. Sorry, guys. I didn't think I wouldn't be able to teleport back OR get down. Have they stayed put at the inn, or did they spread out to search for you? What does one do when the person they're guarding literally vanishes into thin air?

Well, panic, probably.

You slide down against the cave wall, internally cringing and apologizing again. You're fairly confident Xiao will be able to find them if anyone can, but between this and the Mondstadt incident, you really need to stop disappearing on people who are trying to help you.

Well, this is the last time, I swear, you resolve. I will not randomly go off somewhere again without at least telling somebody I'm with where I'm going.

...Probably.

You flick a pebble at the wall across from you. It bounces off a jagged edge, skittering across the floor and landing by your foot. You stare at it for a moment before picking it up and repeating the motion.

You're bored.

It's hard to say how long it's been since Xiao left. The last ray of sunlight disappeared shortly after he did, and the minutes crawl by in the darkness of the cave. You don't risk dragging yourself over to the entrance to see if you can catch a glimpse of the moon, though. If there are any more enemies nearby, you're fucked. You could call for the yaksha again, of course, but the two of you are on questionable terms as-is, so you'd hate to incur his wrath unnecessarily.

If you could handle the enemies, that would be another story. But, for whatever reason, whatever powers you apparently have don't seem to work like they're supposed to. Exhibit A: the waypoint. Which could be the fault of the waypoint and not you, but you have your doubts. Especially since...

"Wind," you say, willing a gust of air to sweep through the tunnel. "I mean, anemo. Air. Breeze. Come on, work with me here." You sweep your arm like a catalyst user, but nothing happens except an unhappy grumble from your stomach.

Exhibit B. You lean back against the wall again. You thought maybe if Xiao couldn't teleport with you, maybe you'd be able to teleport yourself in the same way, but it seems that's not going to happen. "That's why the things were made", he said. Are you not actually able to wield the elements, despite being the Divine Creator? Is your golden blood just for show? You already can't understand the language - not really, anyway. And after spending some more time here, it's as you thought before: even if you did manage to learn the language of Teyvat, you'd never be able to speak it. You can already imagine your vocal chords weeping after a single sentence.

Will you only ever be able to interact with this world through (formerly) playable characters?

You sigh, which turns into a shiver. Without the sun, and this high up in the mountains, it's understandably a bit chilly. Maybe you should give your powers another shot.

You sweep your arm half-heartedly. "Pyro-" The cave is suddenly bathed in warm light, and you excitedly sit up straight. Was that me? Did I do that?!

...But no, it's no doing of your own. A small wrapped parcel falls at your feet. "Here," Xiao says bluntly. His face is illuminated by the soft glow of a torch, which he's holding stiffly out, indicating for you to take it. His brow is furrowed slightly, but in this lighting it's hard to tell if he's irritated or if that's merely his neutral face. You take the torch quickly, just in case.

"Did-" you start, but he disappears before you can get any further. You slump a bit at being brushed off, but your attention switches to the abandoned parcel before you can dwell on it too much. It seems to have been wrapped in a haste, tied with a very elaborate-looking bow made of slightly frayed twine. Should I open it?

But then again, it might not even be for you in the first place. After all, the torch was the only thing Xiao specifically handed you. It's entirely possible the package is his, and he just dropped it on accident. If so, you're definitely better off not messing with it.

You eye the fancy bow some more. ...Not exactly Xiao's style, though.

Cautiously, you use your free hand to pull the package towards you. The contents shift - there's multiple things inside. You pull the end of the twine, and the wrapping falls open.

A sweet, smokey aroma fills the cave, and you inhale agressively. Food. Eagerly, you push back the edges and peer inside. Ham, bacon, and sausage are stuffed into the package, along with a pair of chopsticks and a single sprig of mint for decoration. One slice of ham has some kind of sauce drizzled on in the shape of a messy six-pointed star.

Your eyes widen. Die Heilige Sinfonie!

There's no doubt about it. It's Fischl's special dish: identical to the cold cut platter, except it's freshly made and piping hot.

You beam. He found them.

With impeccable timing, the adeptus reappears, holding a flask of water and a thick bundle of fabric in his arms. He barely spares you a glance before setting them down a few feet away and vanishing again immediately. You blink: it's a sleeping bag, along with a small pillow and an extra blanket.

Xiao is a puzzle. You know there's something he's hiding, and his initial cold reaction is admittedly concerning... but despite that, he actually seems quite willing to help you, even if he's being a bit prickly about it. He reminds you a bit of a cat, and you stifle a laugh with a bite of ham.

Thank you, Xiao.

You get about halfway through the meal before he returns again, this time with arms full of tinder. He dumps it all off to the side of the cave before squatting down and starting to build a campfire. "I hungulg the thing," he states.

Damn, he's efficient. Not only did he find your companions as you asked, but he's also anticipated your other needs and acted preemptively, AND he's had spare time to take a look at the problematic waypoint already. All feats made easier by teleportation no doubt, but impressive nonetheless. For someone who spends a lot of time by himself, he's better at taking care of someone than you expected.

"...So...?"

"...Things aren't looking good for you."

"Ah, fuck. It's broken, isn't it?"

He eyes you, and you belatedly realize it's the first time you've sworn out loud. Not very Creator-like of you. Perhaps he didn't understand that word, though, because he continues normally. "No, the thing is fine. Which means the qupfavs is you."

You pale when your mind fills in the blank, but his gaze merely shifts back to his work, completely unfazed. "If you used the thing to get here, you should be able to get back, too. I have no uepg what you did kravb."

You swallow your food. "I don't know, either." It was the exact same thing both times, wasn't it?

He sighs deeply and holds his hand out to you for the torch, taking it to light the now-built campfire. "We'll see bavvaqax. For now, eat. Then sleep." He summons his polearm and strolls toward the cave entrance. "I will be here." He speaks in a matter-of-fact tone, but it's comforting to hear, knowing how diligent he is. The vigilant yaksha truly lives up to his moniker.

It makes you all the more aware of your shortcomings.

"Hey, Xiao." The yaksha turns his head slightly in acknowledgement, but keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon as he takes his place guarding the entrance. You take it as a sign to continue. "I've been thinking. I'm... the Creator, right?" It feels weird to say out loud, especially since no one's been able to confirm it verbally to you yet. "Why can't I leave the same way as you?" Why can't I teleport anywhere in Teyvat at the drop of a hat? Why can't I levitate chunks of rocks and build myself a staircase to get down from this stupid mountain? Why can't I summon even the slightest breeze? "Why can't I do anything?"

He exhales through his nose. "Why could you?"

It's not the answer you expected. "What do you mean?"

He shifts his posture without looking back. "Why would you be able to do that if you haven't learned how?"

...Huh. That... somehow did not occur to you before. In your defense, you'd kind of assumed if you were an all-powerful being, you'd just naturally be able to do cool stuff by wanting it to happen. Apparently not. But then again, most of your assumptions so far have been wrong, so it's no surprise if what he says is true.

If anything, you think it might actually be good news. Now that you think of it, you have a vague recollection of the Traveler being instructed by Paimon, too. Maybe your situation isn't as hopeless as you thought it might be. "In that case, you can teach me, right? Then I can do it."

For a few moments, the adeptus does not respond. In fact, he gives no sign at all that he even heard what you said, merely staring off into the distance without moving. You can't see the expression on his face when he finally sighs.

"No. I can't." His words ring with such a sense of finality that you can't bring yourself to say anything else on the matter. In silence, you finish your (hot) cold cut platter and climb into your sleeping bag while he continues guarding the entrance.

Given your circumstances, you don't expect to fall asleep quickly. But you must feel safe, because it's not long before your eyelids start to feel heavy, and you begin to nod off. You were traveling the whole day, after all.

As you teeter on the edge of consciousness, you think you hear Xiao say something. But the words are distant and quiet, and you can't tell if you heard right, or if it was just wishful thinking in the first place. Or perhaps you're already asleep after all. Regardless, the words stick in the back of your mind.

"Also... I never said I wasn't happy to see you again."

Dread curdles in your stomach at the familiar scene. Your friends and loved ones are gathered before you again, but this is isn't right. This isn't real.

It's a dream, you repeat to yourself, trying to subconsciously block out what you know comes next. A dream. But acknowledging that fact doesn't make it disappear. You are helpless to escape the inevitable, no matter how much you wish it.

No. Not again. I don't want to see this again.

A light breeze ruffles your hair, as if answering your plea. You stiffen at the unusual sensation. This isn't a part of the dream you know.

But the wind brushes your cheek softly, sweeping away a lone tear. Slowly, you begin to relax. And then, one by one... the people fade. The scenery changes, and you're left standing in a field of flowers with nothing but the sound of a distant flute for company.

Ah, is your last thought before you sink deeper into the realm of unconsciousness, it's you.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Just absolutely heartbroken thinking about how Mal and Imtura must have missed each other after they had their fallout

Imtura and Mal always got each other and were easily the fastest, easiest bond to form between any of the LIs with each other. Not that the other possible combinations aren't all great in their own way (that's one of the strengths of Blades imo), but Mal and Imtura think similarly, have similar values, similar personalities, and, from what I can remember, never even had a single disagreement the whole time they were traveling together. Their dynamic was easy, tripping each other up on the streets of Undermount, they brought a lightness to each other and the group that no one else could. They both understood what it's like to be an outcast - Imtura for being an orc, Mal for being extremely poor. They even had a similar kind of complicated relationship with their past/family, where they both ran as far as possible from them and couldn't push it fully away

My point is, they understood each other possibly the best out of any other dynamic in that group. And it showed, from the way they always had similar opinions and worldviews to the way they joked around easily nearly from day 1. And because a good part of that bonding was exactly because they were both outcasts in nearly all the places they went to together, losing that meant that, once again, they were left to be the odd one out, the one no one really understands. Especially without MC, who, depending on your choices, also had a similar dynamic with them both

For Imtura especially I just cannot imagine how hard it must have been. She was convinced someone she loved deeply (whether romantically or not) was dead. She watched them get snagged right in front of her as she was helpless - the single thing she hates being more than anything - to do anything, and then she was convinced they had died, and she was heartbroken. And then all her other friends, the ones who were supposed to get how she was feeling because they went through the exact same thing, turned their backs to her

And I can't be sure, but I strongly suspect that Imtura knew or at least thought that Mal agreed that MC was dead. I mean, let's be real, nothing else makes sense for his character. Mal has never been an optimist a day in his life. They met Threep and his instant reaction was "clearly this thing is gonna grow to be huge and eat our faces off". He has that whole devil-may-care attitude about being in dangerous situations, yes, which we know is a facade (he himself said he's always a little afraid), but when it comes to predicting the outcomes of things? Mal always expects the worst. And MC had been missing without any leads for a year. In the Shadow Realm, which no one had ever come out of alive before Kade. At that point, thinking MC was dead was more logical than thinking they were alive

And if Imtura knew all of that, which I think she did even if subconsciously... It must have hurt even more that Mal still sided with Tyril and Nia, which he has never done before, mind you, and cut his ties with her. I mean, I'm sure it was two-way, but still. Just like that, she lost all her friends when she was already going through an extremely rough grief process. And the one she was the closest to took the others' side even though he agreed with her. She didn't even have her crew anymore because she couldn't go to the sea again without MC. She had no one and nowhere to turn to at all, in a city full of humans that she barely knew on top of that

Meanwhile Mal also lost his greatest ally on top of going through the exact same grief process, except he had to hide it and keep going. He was burning the candle at both ends trying to keep himself busy and continuing a search that he didn't even believe in, while hiding his true feelings/opinion from Nia and Tyril, who, on top of that, had always had a tendency to side with each other against Mal because they came from similarly sheltered and rigid backgrounds. I'm not saying they were ganging up on him or putting him aside on purpose, and it's clear he grew even closer to the both of them, but when it came to deciding what to do or discussing the ethics or something, Nia and Tyril had always been on the same side. And even on a more day-to-day basis, there are many things Nia and Tyril just can't understand because they were so sheltered. I'm aware Imtura is a princess, but she's been living as a pirate for a long time now, so she's lived in a world way closer to Mal's than theirs - starting with also being on the "wrong" side of the law. Also, she's an orc. No place but Flotilla is ever truly welcoming to her, and Flotilla doesn't feel like her home either for different reasons

And the signs of how much they missed each other was there. I don't see any reason whatsoever for Imtura to stay in Whitetower - a city I think she complained about more than Undermount - other than the fact that she knew Mal and Nia were there. Maybe she couldn't go to Flotilla or the sea, but there were still plenty of better places for her than Whitetower. And Mal had been keeping tabs on her. And not the casual kind of keeping tabs either, because he knew exactly where she would be the same second MC asked. And they don't have GPS tracking and Mal is the only one out of the remaining trio who doesn't have magic. Mal had to make a huge effort to be able to keep tabs on her like that. And he was the only one who did, despite the fact that Nia and Tyril could have done so way more easily. I have no doubt in my mind that he kept watching her so closely because he missed her. And she still wanted to be close to them, even if only in the vaguest possible terms, despite the fact that Whitetower is an actively hostile place to orcs

And I just. IDK. They were both actively grieving/mourning MC and doing so alone (although in different contexts) and in spaces where they were the odd one out and Imtura in particular was turning to the most unhealthy coping mechanisms known to man. And they could have easily supported each other. And from what we've seen, they wanted to. And they didn't. Because one of the things they are similar in is the way they avoid letting themselves be vulnerable and forgive like that. And it makes me so sad

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

JNVEFOHBEFVQRUHBQVFUHBQCVGIU2FHBU3RGNJI3VRJNI3QRVFIJN2CRBOH2HBOV3RJN 3RV I JUST READ UR FALLOUT FIC!!! OMGOMGOMGOMG I LOVED IT!! PLS TALK TO ME MORE ABOUT FOUND FAMILY WITH THEM BC I WROTE MY OWN FIC, AND IM GONNA BE WRITING MORE ABOUT THEM AND I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THEM!! sorry its in all caps, im really excited

NEVER apologize for all caps and excitement!!!! in this house we lose our minds over found family dynamics TOGETHER and we are NOT calm about it lmao

under the read more because spoilers and also i got long winded (shocker)

ugh but literally. i need to do a rewatch because fallout is definitely one of those "watch once to get your brain blasted, watch a second time to catch all the little hints you missed the first time around" kind of shows, and also i just. NEED to watch this again with the full knowledge that cooper's been hunting down his family this whole time. yeah we knew cooper was a dad from the beginning but for us, at first, the logical assumption is that his wife and daughter must be long gone by now! it's been 219 years! it's not until the last episode or two that we start realizing that a lot of people from Before are still kicking around, and that cooper KNOWS that, and that the one thing keeping him going for longer than anyone else is the fact that he wants to see his wife and daughter again. the angst potential of this has me foaming at the mouth, by the way, and that's without even considering lucy yet

like, what's his plan? find janey and barb and... pick up where they left off? maybe two centuries of nuclear fallout will patch up his relationship with his ex-wife? how does he even know they weren't both unfrozen and lived their whole lives without him and died already? (i'll argue that he has not even considered that possibility, and will not, because that'll break him.) and say he does find them, and they're alive. maybe they haven't even been unfrozen yet and he can be the one to wake them up. ideal scenario, right? but will they even recognize him anymore? not just by his physical appearance, either! he is not the same person he was before the bombs fell, not by a longshot! janey's dad wasn't a ruthless mercenary bounty hunter who does what he has to do to survive and makes jerky out of human meat and sells random women to organ harvesters to get drugs! he was a guy who loved his dog and loved his family and who was so morally upright that he didn't even want to fake shoot a guy in a movie, because he believes that's not who his character is. and don't even get me STARTED on the fact that The Ghoul is a character to begin with, it's an act, because he's an actor who fell into this role because i guess it was easiest to survive that way, which means that at heart The Ghoul is also not someone who should be shooting guys. the kindheartedness is there under about 219 years of irradiated, decaying skin. but it's there

and then we get lucy, who's very deliberately written as his echo, a kindhearted morally upright person who doesn't want to let the wasteland change her, and i'll bet MONEY that as the series progresses cooper's gonna have to watch as it really doesn't change her. sure, she'll bite a guy's finger off in self defense, and yeah, she'll mercy kill a ghoul that's way past saving. but through it all she's going to try so hard to do the right thing, every single time, and i'm TELLING you, it's not so much that cooper's gonna get dragged back kicking and screaming into being a good person again, but it's more like he's gonna just start being better. it'll be kickstarted by lucy's influence and the fact that he cannot suppress the dad instincts to save his life, but the reason it'll really stick is because that's his natural setting! whether he wants to admit it or not!

anyway. uh. i ranted about this more than i meant to LOL but please always feel free to shout at me about grumpy morally gray old men allowing fatherhood to gently tug them closer and closer to the neutral good square on a dnd alignment chart. gets me every time

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Planar Tears, pt. 2// Rolan/GN human Isekai

yeah ok I have so much brainrot and plot thoughts so here’s some more. Will I just write this fic properly in the end? Who knows.

2

After initially panicking, Rolan decides that the best thing to do is keep the stranger hidden in this cave - where there is at least a little fresh water, and a hole in the roof that lets the moonlight through. The druids are already on high alert about intruders, and Rolan does not think Kagha will take lightly to one who can’t even explain themselves. He doesn’t wake Cal and Lia either, ashamed of his own foolishness in attempting far too difficult a spell.

Instead, he and the strange human have a difficult, abortive conversation in charade, unable to communicate much beyond (Rolan hopes) that they should trust him and do as he says. He tries to go back to the bedroll he slipped from in the first place, but cannot sleep with worry and self-recrimination. How is he supposed to care for this person, and get them alive to Baldur’s Gate? At least there, perhaps Lorroakan can send them back to the right plane. And right now, leaving them defenceless in a cave to sleep, where they might be discovered and killed on the spot -

He takes the damned bedroll, and moves it to the cave.

In the morning, he wakes to see the stranger pacing the cave. The moment he sits up, their eyes are on him, their mouth speaking alien words that they must know cannot be understood. It sounds like questions, frustration, confusion. None of it angry, just tired. Eventually, they run out of words, and mime that they’re hungry.

Sunbeams are beginning to dance through the hole in the roof, and Rolan realises he needs to get back to the other tieflings, before Cal and Lia realise something is off. After breakfast, he needs to find a way to communicate. They could be stuck together for a month - or - permanently. No. He can’t allow himself to think about that.

‘Eating for two?’ Ethel snarks at him, as he goes back for seconds from the vast cauldron of porridge that constitutes breakfast. Gods, he never wants to eat porridge again. Especially not like this, made with watered-down milk because the druids will only spare so much. And the porridge sits so much worse in his stomach when Ethel smiles and tells him she won’t tell anyone about his ‘friend’. After all, she likes desperate people. They’re the easiest to cut a bargain with.

3

Rolan watches his stranger eating their breakfast in worried silence. No-one else seems to have noticed the trail of malignant magic that clouds Ethel like rotting seaweed. If only the damned druids would leave their ritual alone long enough to notice her presence - but that will never happen. Having ceded the caves to the tieflings, they are determined to avoid them as much as possible, until the moment the thorns expel them forever.

The human smiles at him, a smile that makes him feel an unbidden flicker of warmth. Gods no. Rolan hurries to his feet and leaves in agitation, knowing very well what he felt and denying it anyway. This person is practically his prisoner.

He drowns it out with practicalities. It seems to him that they must learn some Common. But to do that - with any ease beyond the years-long agony of teaching a child, a task Rolan thinks of with horror - he needs magical assistance. He’s heard of a spell called Tongues, but who here could cast it? Or - perhaps Detect Thoughts. That way, he can at least show them things beyond the cave. Communicate other ideas.

In the end, he goes to Arron, one of the few original grove inhabitants who will still have anything to do with the tieflings, and produces much more than he wants to from his coinpurse to beg for just one mind-reading potion - only for Arron to refuse. He won’t say why, but it’s obvious; Kagha herself probably told him not to sell the tieflings a single thing that might threaten the Druids. Arron is unrepentant in his refusal, and Rolan snaps in his face, tells him he’s a pathetic, snivelling coward who he would drag to Avernus personally if he actually knew how to. No tiefling does, of course, but if the people of Faerûn are so damned determined to believe it, he’ll let them. They can all sink to the Hells, when he becomes a great wizard.

Before they all get summarily cast out from the Grove, Cal intervenes, but he can’t wrangle a single word of explanation from Rolan about why he needed the potion in the first place. And then Rolan retreats, right back to his hiding place, no further forward than the last time he left.

It seems the same questions are on his stranger’s mind, because when he gets back the floor is covered in writing, strange letters etched into the dirt.

[baskervilleshound]

No one asked for this but I really feel like I should go into a deep dive of why Simon Petrikov is a very personal character to me, and why I care so much about him and his themes.

This is going to probably be long, so I’m going to put a cut here. But this stuff is why you’ll likely see certain recurring themes in my writing.

First we have to talk about Simon and Marceline during the Great Mushroom War and its aftermath. Simon took Marceline on during this time, and it was just the two of them against the world. Simon did everything to protect her; even sacrificing himself and his own sanity.

He would have died of radiation poisoning without the crown, I believe. So that put even another layer of pain in there. He literally kept himself alive, and destroyed his body and mind for this little girl. All to keep safe and taken care of. That really resonated with me.

And then we have Simon in Fionna and Cake. Depressed Simon who lost the love of his life, is very sad about it, and just feels like he’s drifting through life without purpose. But even though he’s miserable and sad, he doesn’t take it out on anyone. When he gets hurt on Finn’s impromptu adventure, he doesn’t lash out at him. No, he thanks him.

He doesn’t lash out or get mean when Fionna and Cake are kind of unfair to him in the beginning, not seeing Simon as much of a person or caring for him right away. Simon had literally just met these people, and he was already on board and ready to save them, even if it meant destroying himself. Even if it meant becoming Ice King again. Just because honestly? He’s a good person, his issues aside.

He’s that person who was empathetic in every way, shape, form, and he always wanted to know if the people around him were okay, even if he himself personally wasn’t okay at all.

This all hurts me super bad and makes me want to write about Simon because it all reminds me of some parallels with my own father. Growing up, we didn’t have the easiest life- dad had his heart broke and felt like a zombie for years over it. But even so, he was always my rock. Always on my side. I never had to question if or when he would be there for me; I knew it was always permanent. He is the reason that after all these years, and all the things I’ve been through, I have not lost my mind.

In my younger years, when I was really little, it really did feel like we were stuck going through a post-apocalyptic war, just wading through the wreckage, trying to find small moments to be happy about. It wasn’t easy, but the experience, regardless of how hard it was sometimes, was beautiful. Especially now that I’m almost 26, and able to really see how much dad shaped me. And all the sacrifices that were made for me, even though he was hurting so terribly.

So that’s why Simon, and Simon and Marcy’s relationship really makes me feel things from a very deep and profound level. We need more single dads in media taking care of their young girls, because boy, did I feel heard watching those scenes years ago.

Now that I have a bit of a hyper fixation though, I plan on writing some fanfiction if I can, and a lot of the themes will be heavily found family/paternal stuff. It’s sort of my way to vent and express some of those feelings I’ve had over the years. That’s what writing is for, right?

The other thing too is that I’ll eventually be finishing and publishing a book that I’ve been working on for ages about a single father (who happens to be a monster) and his newfound little daughter, and how they face the world together. But unfortunately? I can’t really share much of that with you guys yet because I need to get it published. But I’ll tell you what- my character and Simon are very, very similar in a lot of ways. So if you end up liking my Simon/Fionna and Cake writing, you may be into what I have in store later on, when I can get around to finishing and publishing my work.

So for now! I get to vicariously share my feelings through depressed, stressed, empathetic antiquarian man. And I’m pumped for you all to be on board with me.

If you made it this far, wow, you’re cool. Thanks for reading and listening to be blab about why a little cartoon man on a show touched my soul lmao. 💕

[fromtheseventhhell]

I think Catelyn is dead. She was dead for three days. Her body is decaying and crumbling into pieces. She can’t barely talk. Her throat is cut open. She is literally a vengeful ghost who rose from the river with dark magic to punish those who broke the sacred law of hospitality. She’s the archetype of wrathful mother who lost her children to war. Real Catelyn wanted to rest with Ned. Arya putting her down is not bloodshed, it’s the gift of mercy. There is nothing to be saved. Her role is to terrorise the Lannisters/Freys and be a foil to Arya, because Arya wants justice while LSH is all about blind revenge. Besides, Littlefinger is Sansa’s villain, she’s the one who needs to get rid of him. She’s the one who knows the things he did. It’s her role to overcome him. It’s Arya’s role to overcome LSH who’s willing to murder every single person who gets in her way. She will finally have peace if Arya puts an end to her suffering. She will know at least one of her children survived and Arya will take the role she needs as one of the protagonists and lead the Brotherhood North with Robb’s crown and then crown Jon. That’s a form of healing too.

My thing is that all of this gets presented as fact when it's actually things that fandom has decided on and considers canon, rather than coming from the book. Until we get the actual story we can't really just say "this is what's going to happen" because we just don't know and there's a lot of story left to tell. I understand if you think all of this is more likely but it's not written in stone.

Being brought back to life 100% changes and affects the person but it doesn't mean they're entirely gone. LSH might be a shadow of who Catelyn was but she is still very much Catelyn at the core, as seen by her motivations. She already knows that Arya is alive and is actively searching for her. George rarely plays his archetypes or tropes straight so her embodying that role doesn't mean that's all she is. And again, it would be a waste of her being brought back. George could've easily explored revenge with any other character or have had her not die at the red wedding and continue on a similar path. If he wanted to explore the impact of being brought back to life then that was already there with Beric. I don't see why it's unbelievable that he would bring her back for a reason other than to have her be murdered again.

I've already said what I think about Arya and LSH. As for LF, he is very much connected to Catelyn. His introduction was through her POV, his actions are heavily influenced by the relationship they had, she thinks about him often and gives us insight into his character, he contributes to Ned's death and a lot of the trouble the Stark's have, and even his interest in Sansa is rooted in his feeling for Catelyn. He is far more than just "Sansa's villain" and with the likelihood of him traveling to the Riverlands, there is a chance that they have a confrontation. His relationship with Catelyn has been built up far more than his relationship with Sansa so her helping to defeat him makes a lot of sense.

All in all, I don't think it's impossible that Arya gives her "mercy" but I dislike it for all of the reasons I listed and I think there's a lot more that could be done with her character. I think this theory about her only became so popular because it was a "simple" ending for her and fandom tends to default to the easiest solution. It fits but loosely, and only really because people reduce these characters to the most basic archetypes. Her getting a reunion with her daughters, learning that her sons are alive, and getting revenge on the man who caused her and her family so much grief is a lot more satisfying AND has basis in the story.

[crplpunkklavier]

Can you share some of the reasons why people in East German want the ddr back? I’ve got an outsiders view, but it seems like most media considers Germany one of the most influential and successful nations in the EU. Is this not translating down to the populace?

the outside view the world seems to have on germany will never not be mindblowing to me. i am safer here than i would be in many other countries, inside and outside the EU, im not going to refute that. but this place sucks.

this is a pretty big topic that i don't feel qualified to really answer in a single ask. it's complex; the short answer is that germany has been doing a piss poor job at handling numerous current topics, such as modernization of infrastructure and the handling of refugees. especially that last part needs clarification, though. the country is split on whether we should be taking in more people or less, and while i personally always, always, always endorse letting people cross whatever border they need or want to cross, even i can see that it can often seem senseless to "let" people come here when no adjustments are made to grant refugees a proper life here. local communities get overwhelmed with the influx of people from different cultural and language backgrounds, this sort of stress breeds aggression, and then that aggression is directed toward the refugees instead of the system that refused to build them a welcoming home.

this is true for the entire country, but the former east is still largely poorer than the west, and so they feel that sort of crisis the deepest. the reunification happened around the time i was born, so there is still a great deal of people alive today who remember the time before. and to many of them, the rigidity of an authoritarian system seemed to have given them a better, more stable life than they have now under democracy.

we were under merkel rule for much too long, who as a political figure was known in germany for her passion for doing absolutely nothing. we only broke out of that after our last election, and the new government is still kind of stumbling around picking up the pieces.

for as long as i can remember, fascism has been getting worse in all of germany with each passing election. the numbers rightwing parties are making in polls and actual elections are currently at an all-time post-third reich high. its a scary time to be here.

as for influential and successful in the EU, i always like to bring up that germany has some of the slowest internet connections on the continent, and due to its position smack in the middle of europe has also been blocking cross-european train travel, because all of our tracks, stations, and trains, are so old and poorly constructed that other country's trains cannot pass through here.

we arent doing well. we could be doing worse! but we arent doing well, because our people are unhappy, and when people get unhappy, they try to find the easiest way out. for many in the east (AND west, but again due to the east's history and the west's poor handling of it, it's stronger there), that means blaming immigrants and returning to authoritarianism.

[bartokthealbinobat]

Sex Is Nice, But Have You Tried Fresh Fruit?

Ch. 8 of Brandy and the End of the World

word count: 1,485

tw:

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I breathe deep, focusing on my diaphragm, trying not to do anything rash, when I hear some rustling, feel Justin moving against me. I hear a rasp, a fwoosh, and suddenly I can see again. The little match in Justin’s hand fills the space with quivering light, and the waxy-burnt smell fills the air. I stare at him, the bright smile on his face at odds with the deepening scowl on mine. Neither of us notices the match burning down, closer and closer to Justin’s hand until it is too late. The flame reaches his fingers and he reflexively drops the match directly on a pile of clothes. They ignite, flames licking at the heavy silence that has fallen between us. I pinch the bridge of my nose, the sound of zombies on the other side of the door limiting our options severely. With my other hand, I flail an open hand in the general direction of the fire, at a loss for words.

“Oops.” Justin shrugs.

An understatement, for once. My hand curls into a fist, but I just press it into my hip, bracing against the wall as I try to think. The flames grow higher, and sweat beads up along the back of my neck as I lean away from the fire. I look at the door again, still firmly shut beside us, and chew on my lip. Justin just stares at me, not offering any solutions to the problem he created. The wall catches fire next, the wood easily succumbing to the growing flames, and we have no choice anymore. If we stay, we’ll be cooked alive. 

I cough a little from the smoke, and reach for the door handle. Justin’s eyes widen, but he must realize this is the only option, because he just nods. I hold up a hand, counting down on my fingers. 3, 2, 1. I grab frantically for my knife, flicking it open as I throw open the closet door. Almost in unison, 12 pairs of zombie eyes turn to look at me. Great. 

Justin and his absentmindedness was going to get both of us killed, whether by being burnt alive or dismembered by a horde of zombies. I look around for an exit, hoping we can get out of this without fighting our way out. There’s an open door right behind one of the zombies, the easiest way out. But wait, it could be more than that.

“Justin, do you have any more of those matches?”

“Yeah but why do you want-”

“Hand them to me.”

Justin obeys and I point to the exit, shoving him in that direction as I break into a run. The zombies close in on us like a wave, groans and the squish of flesh echoing in my ears. We make it to the exit and I fumble as I open the matches, dropping one. Shit. I grab another, the zombies so close now that I can smell their breath, lighting it and throwing it directly on one as I shut the door, barely making it out. I jam the door shut with a piece of wood and keep running, trying to catch up to justin as the house goes up in flames behind us. Take that, zombie scum. 

We run for what feels like forever, the dog reappearing once we’re far enough away, and I am giddy as I watch the flames growing in the distance, smoke curling through the air high above us. It’s probably a good thing that I don’t get many opportunities for arson, because I think I would enjoy it a little too much. Justin slows a little ahead of me, and once he catches sight of the grin on my face, the smoke in the distance, he puts two and two together. 

“Brandy, did you set that house on fire?” I don’t answer, just waggle my eyebrows at him as I pull out my water bottle and take a swig. He lets out a single ha, low and incredulous, running a hand through his hair, before he starts really laughing. I chuckle a little too, trying to stay mad at him for setting the closet on fire, but it’s hard to stay angry when I still have adrenaline pumping through my veins, and his laughter is infectious. I can be pissed later, right now I can’t get te image out of my mind of Justin’s face after he dropped the match, and I double over with laughter, leaning on his shoulder as we keep trying to calm down and fail. To my absolute shock and amazement, I am actually enjoying Justin’s company for once. 

Once we get ourselves under control, I sock him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” He sticks out his lower lip, rubbing at his arm. “What was that for?”

“That was for setting the damn closet on fire you idiot.” He smiles, but it’s more like a grimace, and my mouth quirks up in response. Against my better judgement I’ve already forgiven him. 

It takes a minute to find our path again, our wild sprint took us pretty far out of the way, but eventually we make it back and keep trekking along, both of us a lot more relaxed now. I find myself responding to Justin’s questions, laughing with him and asking some questions of my own. 

“So why did you stick with me?” I say, “You know, even though I was a little…”

“Prickly?” Justin offers with a smile, “Well you just seemed lonely, I was sure you would warm up to me eventually.”

“Oh you were sure, were you?” I elbow him gently. I’m not sure when I started walking next to him instead of behind him but it feels natural, his pace slowing a bit to match mine.

“Of course I was, I’m irresistible.” Justin flips his hair, fluttering his lashes rapidly. 

“Well I’m glad you did, I don’t think I would have made it this far without you.”

“Its no problem.” He smiles fondly. 

We fall into a comfortable silence, walking next to each other with the dog making lazy loops around us every minute or so. 

It is like this, enveloped in silence and finally wearing a smile on my face instead of a scowl, that we walk our way right into the next sunset. I don’t notice it as soon as I should, but as soon as it registers that the sky is orange and rapidly darkening, I start looking for somewhere we can stay the night. After trying three different houses that were all rotting or looted and trashed, we finally find one with an intact roof and no human remains that we could see. We walk around the empty room, squinting in the dusky light, until we come across the door to the bedroom. Inside, stark white in the darkness, lays a single bed.

 A bed, I haven’t slept in a bed since… Well, it’s been a long time. I look at the softness of the mattress and my bones ache for it, I want to lay in the pillowy softness and sink into a deep sleep, maybe never wake up. I have never been more acutely aware of how tired I am, and Justin appears behind me, chattering about something or other until he too catches sight of the pristine bed. That bed is the embodiment of temptation and I am no more than a sinner. I walk towards it, sitting down with no hesitation, spreading my hands over the covers. 

Justin walks over too, pausing before he faceplants into the pillows, arms spread out as wide as he can. I don’t mind, I would never deny either of us the luxury of sleeping in an actual bed, even if it means we have to share. Turning his head so he can breathe finally, Justin looks up at me, a smile still stuck to my face.

“Do you want to, y’know, do something?” He bites his lip, waiting.

“What?”

“Y’know, a bed, a guy and a girl.” He pauses, then “It’s the apocalypse, we might not ever get a chance to lay in a real bed again.” He waits expectantly. 

“Oh Justin.” I sigh breathily, slide down so I’m laying next to him, and slip a hand up his arm. “Do you know what I really, really want? More than anything?” I slide my hand down his back, playing with the waistband of his jeans. Justin stops breathing.

“Uh, uhm, uh what?” He chokes out, frozen in place.

“Some fresh fruit and a night of sleep in a real bed. Now, I have a chance at one of those things, so shut up and go to sleep.” I roll up off the bed, grabbing a change of clothes out of my bag and heading to the bathroom. No way I would ever have sex with Justin, the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.

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Author's Note: Fun fact I also prefer fresh fruit to sex.

-Bartok

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