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dameronspector · 3 days ago

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Time in a Bottle (Part 2)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Wife!Reader, Past!Manny Alvarez x Reader

Summary: You wished you could save time in a bottle. You wished you could stay longer with him. You were supposed to spend the rest of your days in marital bliss, turning gray and wrinkly together. And then, your husband decided to risk his life and save her. And She brought in ghosts from your past while taking away your reason to live at the same time.

Warnings: Angst. Suicidal Thoughts. Cursing. Canon-typical Gore and injuries, Blood, Based on s2 episode 2. This is literally pain. Major character death. Thoughts of vengeance. Reader goes crazy later. References to Past Manny x Reader (I am assuming Manny to be in his mid-thirties so Reader's age is the same). Manny is kind of toxic now because of his jealousy, If you’re an Abby defender, please click off right away because this is only Abby hate. Reader wishes to kill abby and the salt lake crew.

AN: here is part 2. enjoy <3 (will write a fix-it fic after this i promise)

“Stop. Stop it. You want me, leave her alone. Please”, Joel begged in a shaky voice. You sobbed harder, he’s never begged in front of such losers before. Abby chuckled. “Oh well, we don’t want to hurt her anyways.”

Your heart fell down to your stomach. No matter what happened, they were going to take him out. And looking at Joel’s reaction, you knew he had accepted it already. He had not opposed to anything ever since she had you cornered. You should’ve understood this. But your mind was clouded with desperation and anger. “No…”, you whimpered and tried to reach for Joel.

“But I am going to kill you. Because, it doesn’t matter, if you have a code like me…or you’re a lawless piece of shit like you. Because there’s just some things that everyone agrees are fucking wrong”, Abby conceded, her eyes filled with tears.

Your stomach curdled in anger. “Oh save it, you were in the fucking military. Don’t act like you’re a saint, moron”, you furiously yelled at her. Abby glanced at you with her bloodshot eyes. You stared her down and looked at Joel. He was way too quiet. He simply nodded his head in agreement and gulped against the lump in his throat.

“Baby, don’t let her get to you. You didn’t do anything wrong, Joel, please. Please!”, you begged him. He turned to look at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears and unwavering love for you. He had already made his peace. “I love you, honey”, he whispered. Your eyes widened and your sobs grew louder. “NO. No, shut the fuck up, Joel. Tell that to me when we get back home!”, you struggled against Manny, your legs kicking his feet and nails burying into his arms. Your throat hurt, your voice coming out croaky. Manny tightened his arms around you out of jealousy. How, and why, were you in love with this vile man, was beyond his comprehension.

You were sobbing so much that you didn’t notice Abby get up and make her way to the golf kit. “Sweetheart, look at me. It’s okay. You’re hyperventilating, look at me”, Joel tried to placate you with his sweet and caring words. And then she spoke up again. “You know, it’s funny, I’ve waited so long—”

Joel rolled his eyes in irritation. “Oh, just shut the fuck up and do it already!”, he roared in an agitated voice, cutting off her boring speech. You almost laughed, your husband had no patience for stupid monologues before anyone had to do something immoral. He always said it felt like they were trying to justify their actions by a senseless and dramatic speech like this. But you couldn’t, because this was the first time that he had said it out loud. “Joel- what?”, you asked him breathlessly.

Abby turned around with a golf club in her hand, twirling it aimlessly in her hands. Your eyes widened. “No- what the fuck? You fucking psycho!-”, you thrashed around, your breathing laboured, causing you to feel dizzy. “You stupid, old man…you don’t get to rush this”, Abby declared and-

She swung the golf club directly on Joel’s injured knee making him scream in agony.

“NO! No- no, please, please. Hurt me instead, please. I’ll-I’ll tell you whatever you want, please-pl-”

She swung the golf club on his knee again, the sound of bones cracking echoing across the room, alongside Joel and your screams- his in pain, yours in despair. Manny’s eyes were shining with fear and vengeance, his and Owen's face blank out of disbelief. Mel was crying and Nora's eyes teared up.

“No, please, don’t hurt him. Please. Manny, leave me please-”, you sobbed and turned your head to look at Manny, your tearful eyes looking up in his with desperation. Manny closed his eyes and his cheeks shook from how tightly he was clenching his jaw. As you turned your head away from Joel, Abby swung the club against his knee again. He howled in pain. You whipped your head back to your husband and saw his mangled knee. Your body shook with gut wrenching sorrow and you sunk to your knees, dragging Manny down with your heavy body. You moved your arms and pushed Manny away from you when Abby signaled Owen to take over.

You were reaching for Joel, his body shaking with painful breaths and grunts before Owen came over and tried to hold you back. Manny snapped his head up and held your arms in his hands before shaking his head at Owen. “Owen- no. Abby! We talked about this-”, Manny tried to convince Abby in a desperate effort to protect you.

“Shut the fuck up, Manny”, Abby glowered at him and punched Joel in the face. Joel groaned in pain, blood rushing out of his nose and his cheek already swelling up.

“Joel- hey, baby- look at me-”, you tried to call out to him in an attempt to keep him alert before Abby barked orders at Owen to shut you up. Owen clenched his jaw and aimed his rifle at your knee before firing a shot. You howled out of pain and doubled over, holding your thigh. Joel tried to look at you before heaving out a request, “No, leave her alone! Baby-”, Abby punched him again.

“Fuck-”, Manny exclaimed, and whipped his head to look at Abby. “I told you she was not a part of this, Abby!”, he barked at her. She ignored him and kept punching Joel to a pulp, his face covered in blood and swollen. Your hands were stained with your blood now, the blood oozing out of the wound. Your breathing was laboured and you felt like the whole room was spinning in circles. Manny tried to put pressure on your wound but you scowled at him.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Alvarez”, you spit at him with a waver in your voice and turned your attention back to Joel. Your face twisted in pain. His handsome face was covered in blood and cuts. You whimpered and tried to get up when Owen kneeled next you and locked your hands behind your back, forcing you down to press your cheek to the ground. “Leave me- no- Joel, JOEL!”, you let out helpless sobs and felt your head swim. She just kept punching Joel, your Joel, and your strong and brave Joel was left lying helplessly on the ground.

You had lost the track of time. You were losing blood rapidly, causing you to become delirious and your body was shivering. Your heart was lying across you, his head turned towards the door. You didn’t even know what was the damage done. How much did that psychotic, vengeful girl had hurt him. All you knew, was that his breathing was getting fainter and you could do nothing but lay there and cry in pain.

She kept punching him. You wanted to get up and beat her to a pulp, then and there. But you were so exhausted, the wound in your knee sending throbbing jolts of pain throughout your body that made you feel paralysed and you couldn’t move against that tall man holding you down. You felt like you were underwater. Your ears couldn’t hear anything except the sound of Abby’s fists hitting your beloved husband’s face again and again.

You were losing blood rapidly, your body violently shaking and the cold was seeping into your bones. Manny noticed this and shoved Owen away from your body. Owen tried to protest but Manny shut him down with a stare. He took off his belt and made a torniquet around your knee and draped a jacket on you. You couldn’t register any of it, your body and mind completely focused on Joel. He was still there, you could feel it. Abby raised her fist again before the door swung open.

Ellie.

“Joel! Joel- get up!”, she yelled out to Joel.

You whimpered in relief and reached for her with an extended arm. “Ellie…”, you whispered tearfully. You found the strength to sit up again, leaning your weight on your arms and grunting when Nora and Manny tackled Ellie and forced her down. “Joel! Joel fucking get up!”, she kept yelling desperately when Manny forced her down again and she sliced his face with her knife. Your chest swelled with pride when Manny seethed in anger and tried to get his lick back.

“Stupid fucking bitch-”, he charged at her and Owen tried to hold him back but he pushed past him and delivered a swift kick to Ellie’s ribs. Ellie gasped out a choked noise and your insides swirled with a fury that you had never felt before. Your limbs shook, as you used up all of your energy and hobbled over to Manny, grabbing him by the collar and punching him square in the nose. You smirked as you heard the satisfying crack of the bones. “Don’t fucking touch my daughter, Alvarez”, you seethed at him. You saw the way his jaw ticked and Owen tackled you, turning you around and making you face Joel.

Your body felt paralyzed. Not out of pain, but after looking at Joel’s face. His beautiful face was a mangled mess- one eye swollen shut, a huge cut across his eyebrow, the same eyebrow that you would press kisses to, his face covered with blood, his lovely curls damp because of it. His hands laid by his face and he was still using his remaining energy to look at you and Ellie with so much emotion in his eyes. He was still breathing. But at what cost?

Your ears were ringing, your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. You couldn’t hear anything except for Ellie’s desperate cries for Joel to get up. You whimpered with pride when you saw that he tried to lift his head up for Ellie and your world came crashing down when Abby stabbed him in the neck with the broken golf club.

Your heart stopped. How could your heart beat anymore when Joel wasn’t breathing anymore? How could it be alive anymore when Joel was lying there, motionless and his eyes were staring at you blankly-an arm extended in your and Ellie’s direction, trying to reach you two even in his last moments. You couldn’t feel or hear anything after that. Not Ellie’s heartbreaking sobs, not her threat to Abby, not the group packing up their stuff as if they had just finished a picnic, and not even Owen finally releasing you. A pair of shoes obscured your view of Joel and pulled you up in a sitting position, your body lax and eyes fixed in a blank stare at Joel. You didn’t even feel the pain when your knee bent and aggravated the wound. The person holding you straightened your leg and held you by the arms.

“(Name), hey”, Manny patted your cheeks to bring your attention to him. Your head lolled against his hands, your gaze solely on Joel’s unmoving body. “Look at me, (nickname), c’mon. Let’s go”, he tried to pull you up. Your ears managed to catch that and you lazily turned your gaze at him. You felt disgust crawl up your throat. Even after killing your husband and hitting your daughter in front of you, he had the audacity to ask you to go with them.

You panted and raised your shaky hands to fist his jacket before slapping him across the face, hard enough to split his lip and make his cheek swell instantly. His mouth fell open and he turned to looked at you with bloodshot eyes. “Remember that until I come back to kill you, Manny Alvarez”, you spoke in an eerie, calm tone. Manny averted his eyes from your anguished and vengeful ones and moved away to gather his stuff. Nora finally released Ellie and she whimpered before crawling to you, laying her head on your lap. Her tears soaked your lap and you laid your hand on her head, free hand caressing her back.

The group was about to leave when you suddenly let out a maniacal chuckle. They looked at you with unease. “You’re a coward and a fraud, just like your father, Abby. He was a fake fucking doctor who was injecting drugs into a non-consenting teenager and was performing brain surgery without even knowing if it was gonna work. You talk of a code, but neither your father, nor you, followed a code. That’s why you’re both frauds”, you stated in between chuckles.

Abby looked like you had slapped her across the face and the entire group turned to look at her with a shocked expression on their face. Manny clenched his jaw and stared down Abby with teary eyes. “I’m so fucking proud that my husband was the one who killed your dad. He deserved it. And oh, I’ll make sure you regret keeping me alive. You should’ve just killed me when you had the chance”, you finished speaking and stared directly into her eyes with a crazed look in your eyes. Abby swallowed thickly and rushed out of the room, the rest following her.

The room was now housing your little family, Ellie's sobs echoed in the still room, while she reached for you desperately. “(Name)- he-”, she couldn’t finish her sentence without choking on her sobs. She looked up to your emotionless face. You were completely detached from the world and that made her chest hurt. She lifted her head from your lap and crawled over to Joel and removed the golf club sticking out of his neck before throwing it away. Her smaller hands covered his hand gently and she draped her body across his back. “Joel-Joel-please…”, she sobbed against his hair. She looked so much younger than her age right now. It broke something further in you.

You numbly crawled across the space and sat down in front of Joel’s body. Ellie lifted her head, her face red and damp with tears and snot. He was just here- reassuring you that everything will be okay. You were supposed to go back home and cook dinner, then take a walk around the town before going back home and cuddling on the couch until you fell asleep. He was supposed to get up in the morning and make you coffee, kiss you tenderly and play with Benji while annoying Maria with Tommy. You were supposed to spend the rest of your lives together- happily. You raised your hand and brushed his blood soaked curls, lovingly scratching his scalp like you would always. You laid down on your side, scooting closer to him and memorised his face while running your thumb along his hairline and Ellie looked at you, crying harder. “You can rest now, baby. Thank you for everything. I love you so much”, you whispered to him and closed his good eye with care, pressing a kiss to his forehead, not caring if his blood transferred to your lips. You draped an arm across Ellie and laid there next to his lifeless body, trying to come to terms with whatever happened.

You don't know how long did you lay there next to him. The room got cold and your leg was throbbing even more now. Ellie was still letting out tiny whimpers and you could do nothing except rub her back. Finally, Jesse arrived on the scene and tried to digest it. He quickly helped Ellie to get up before they tried to bring Dina back to consciousness. You still hadn't moved, eyes fixed on Joel's face. His hand was so cold and pale now, you held it between your palms and caressed it gently, trying to warm him up.

Jesse had to pry you away from his body. You tried to break out of his arms and wouldn’t let him wrap Joel’s body so he had to unwillingly lock you in a separate room. You banged at the door until you couldn’t, eventually passing out from exhaustion and blood loss. You came to when you were on your horse, completely leaning against him and the slow up and down motion of his body lulling you back to a sleep, your eyes opening and closing in an attempt to stay awake. Your bleary eyes caught sight of Jesse and Ellie on a horse and Dina on their right. You also took notice of your right leg feeling heavier, as if someone had wrapped it in something and you promptly passed out again.

You woke up to commotion. There was a lot of noise around you, hands trying to help you down from the horse and then familiar hands catching you before cradling you to their chest. Your eyes fluttered open to see Tommy leaning over you with a sorrowful expression on his face. There was a bloody cut on his face and it reminded you of Manny for a second.

“Sweetheart? Are you alright? Wake up for me, c’mon”, he begged you and shook your body slightly.

Your eyes kept opening and closing. “T-Tommy?…”

“Yeah, are you okay? We need to get you to the clinic and-” “Where’s Joel?”, you asked him with confusion written across your face.

Tommy stiffened up and felt his throat close up. He just saw his big brother’s body bag being dragged away. He was holding his injured sister-in-law in his arms. He just took on a whole horde of infected and a bloater by himself. He was exhausted. He needed this to be a dream. How was he going to make you relive your husband’s death when you were so out of it?

“(Name), we need to get you to the clinic, c’mon, you need to get your knee checked, Sister”, Tommy forced down his sobs and tried to distract you. You pushed away from him and tried to sit up, your eyes darting everywhere.

“N-no. Where’s Joel, Tommy? He was right here with me-” Tommy stopped you and held you by your arms. “Sweetheart, look at me”, he requested gently.

You reluctantly brought your eyes back to Tommy’s and saw his grim face. His eyes were bloodshot and filled to the brim with tears, his expression so pained that you thought he was injured.

“Why are you crying, Tommy? What’s wrong? And where’s Joel, please-” “He’s not coming back….he’s not coming back, (Name), please”, Tommy trailed off and broke out in a sob.

You froze. And it all came back to you. Abby. Manny. The torture. The killing. Ellie’s sobs. Joel’s screams. And you? Lying there, helpless. Doing nothing to help him or protective him.

You shook your head vehemently, still in denial about everything. “No…no. Tommy, don’t.” Tommy squeezed your arms and looked up at you, his eyes conversing everything to you. He was a mess. His face was damp, his nose was red, his lips wouldn’t stop quivering.

“Take me to him, please, Tommy. I need to see him. One last time, please. Please”, you begged him desperately, wanting to say goodbye to your heart one last time. Tommy looked at you in sympathy and nodded his head solemnly. He supported you with his arms and took you to the small morgue that they had kept Joel’s body in.

You entered the room and saw the body bag that was as tall as your husband. You almost stumbled but Tommy’s supportive arms held you up against him. Tommy brought you closer to the stretcher and you stared at it blankly.

“I want to see his face.”

Tommy looked at you in pain and shook his head, “You don’t have to-” “I want to”, you demanded. Tommy clenched his jaw tight- he hadn’t seen his brother’s messed up face yet. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. But who was he to deny your request to see your husband for the last time?

So he came around the stretcher and slowly unwrapped the bag, Joel’s graying curls coming into view first and then- Tommy gasped and stumbled back. His face was completely caked with blood, his left eye swollen shut, big cuts across his forehead and a gaping wound in his neck. Tommy wanted to throw up. Just yesterday he had seen his brother playing with his son. Tommy kept his eyes on you, anticipating your reaction. Jesse had told him he found you just lying there next to Joel’s body the whole time and Tommy damn near cried after hearing that.

Your breathing picked up and a sob tore through your throat. His gorgeous, handsome face was completely wrecked. That evil fucking girl had done this to your Joel. You panted and ran a shaking hand through his curls and laid your forehead against them. Your cries shook his body and Tommy turned his head to focus on the wall, his chest hurting at the sound of your cries.

You pressed your lips against his forehead. “I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m so fucking sorry. I couldn’t protect you. You deserved better, baby. I’m sorry. You were so brave and I love you so much. Please, wake up for me, baby. Please-” you choked against your tears and brought him closer to you with an arm across his unmoving chest. Which broke your heart further because you wouldn’t hear his heartbeat against your ear ever again. You wouldn’t feel his chest go up and down when you cuddled him. No matter how much you pleaded, he wasn’t coming back.

“Sweetheart, we gotta go”, Tommy whispered and laid a hand on your back. You pressed a parting kiss against Joel’s cold lips. You turned to face Tommy with a devastating look in your eyes.

“Tommy th-they were so cruel. They were so cruel. They didn’t let me help him. He was in so much pain, Tommy, he was screaming so much. They didn’t let me help him. They made him sit there on the cold floor with his injured knee- he couldn’t even- he-”, you let out a sob and held onto Tommy’s forearms for support, “she wouldn’t stop punching him. He tried to get up for Ellie but she-she stabbed him. He saved her life and she still stabbed him- Tommy- we- we need to find them. I need to fucking kill them-please-”, you were hyperventilating at this point, your entire body shaking with fury and sadness.

Tommy’s face twisted before he brought you into his chest and let you sob against his throat. He held you tightly against him and glanced at his big brother and shushed you gently, "I know, sister. We will. I promise you, we will. I know. I’ve got you", he cradled your head against him and let you cry, supporting your weak body in his protective arms. He felt his insides curl with anger and revenge. He would make sure he hunted down those bastards and he would kill them. For you. For his brother.

For now, he would carry you to the clinic and get your knee checked and him and Maria would look after you and Ellie, just like a family is supposed to. Just like his brother had done for his entire life and sacrificed his life for. Just like how he had promised his brother he would look after you if something happened to him.

And you? You'd go to your room and open the wardrobe, pull his favorite flannel close to your face, breath in the warm and comforting scent of your husband and curl up on his side of the bed. You'd wish you'd saved time in a bottle and open it whenever you wished to just to look at all the memories with Joel, you'd wish you'd taken your last breath lying next to your heart-your husband, you'd wish you could have one last chance to gaze into your Joel's loving brown eyes and hear him say he loves you.

For now, you'd bury your face in his flannel and cry yourself to sleep until you could kill that girl who murdered your husband.

AN: this was a labour of love. I miss Joel a whole lot and i feel my chest hurt everytime i think of it. anyways, im sorry for the pain and a fix it fic after this i promise <3

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x wife!reader #the last of us #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #manny alvarez #manny alvarez x reader

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forever-rogue · 1 day ago

Note

I don't know if this is a silly idea so if it is I apologize!

But could you write something where Tommy and the reader were seeing each other in Austin but with all the commotion they didn't have time to look for each other when they were fleeing so they both moved on thinking the other one was killed, but the reader suddenly ends up in Jackson and they get to reunite

AN | Ahh, this has been in my drafts for so long! Reminder that I am also a Tommy Miller enthusiast. I love this concept and I hope you do too 🥰

Pairing | Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.1k

Masterlist | Main

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“How much longer is it until we’re there?” you were whining, and you knew it. But quite honestly, you didn’t care. You were cold, tired, and hungry, and your feet were killing you. Ellie looked at you and snickered softly; she was young and spritely, everything seemed easy for her.

“Not much longer if you’d stop your whining,” Joel turned back to you as you gave him an indignant little huff. You knew he was teasing; the two of you butted heads a lot but there was nothing but affection behind it all, “think you can manage?”

“I guess,” you waved him off and fell into step with Ellie, “you know, this place better be worth it.”

“It will be,” he promised and you wanted to believe him. You hoped he was right…things had been hard the last few months and honestly, you really just wanted a nice long break, “trust me.”

“The last time I trusted you, Joel, I ended up on this crazy journey with you and the kid,” you snorted in amusement as the two of them stared at you in surprise, “and - and - I wouldn’t change it for the world. So calm down and stop glaring daggers at me.”

“You know-” but Joel was quickly cut off by the sound of hooves, shouts, and barks. This definitely wasn’t good.

You exchanged a look with Joel and the two of you surrounded Ellie to make sure she was as hidden as possible. It really was no use because the three of you were as exposed as could be.

Fuck.

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So…many things didn’t turn out as badly as they could have. In fact, it seemed like it really just turned into…the best possible situation.

You’d not only found your way to Jackson, which already just from the outside was a lot to take in, but Joel had managed to find his brother. It was a shock on both ends but, you realized, life had been a lot like that lately.

For the first time in a long time, you even allowed yourself to believe that things might actually work out. Hope. It was an odd thing really.

But it was Joel’s shout that started you out of your little daydream fantasy. You almost slipped off the horse at the sudden shift of him yelling, "Tommy!"

You exchanged a look with Ellie before turning to look in the direction that Joel was currently running to. He'd almost jumped off his horse and was taking off in the direction of another dark haired man. How very curious.

The party came to a stop and the two of you got off your own horses before hesitantly walking over. It appeared that the two brothers had really missed each other.

Joel let go of the younger man and turned to the two of you with a beaming smile, "this is my younger brother, Tommy."

You turned to the raven-haired man, ready to introduce yourself to him when everything seemed to come to a screeching halt. Time stood still as you realized that you too knew Tommy - at least once upon a lifetime ago you had.

He must have realized at the same time as you had because all he could do was silently look at you in awe. You weren't even sure how to really respond - you hadn't seen him in twenty years. Yet here he was, right as rain and the same as ever.

"Tommy?" You asked softly as he nodded, repeating your name just as quietly. Confusion marred Ellie and Joel's faces, unsure of what was going on, "oh my god."

He hesitated for a moment before holding his arms out and pulling into a hug. A sound somewhere between a sob and laugh escaped your lips as you hugged him back with just as excitement.

You had been sure you'd never see him again. You'd made peace with the fact that the love of your life was dead.

And yet…there he was. Alive and well. Your Tommy.

When you reluctantly pulled apart, he cradled your face in his hands, tenderly brushing away the tears that rolled down your cheeks. It still felt so unreal, like a wild day dream.

"Does anyone want to explain what's going on here?" Ellie decided to cut through the tender moment and Joel groaned slightly. He was such a dad sometimes, despite what he insisted.

"Ellie."

"It's okay," you promised, "Tommy and I…we used to…we were dating. Back…you know."

"Before," he finished for you, catching your eye and offering a shy smile, "before everything fell apart."

"Wait…" Joel looked between the two of you, pointing at each of you in turn. He repeated your name and realization dawned on him, "its you? All this time…shit-"

"Language!"

"You've been Tommy's girl?" He was more incredulous than either of you, "how did I never…realize?"

"To be fair, I haven't been anyone's girl in a long time," you stared at your feet, trying not to focus too much on the fact that everyone was staring at you, "and I didn't put two and two together to realize you were his brother. So."

"So," Tommy echoed, rocking back and forth on his heels. Neither of you were quite sure what to say; you never thought you'd been in this position again, "why, ugh, why don't we get you guys settled in? Seems like you might be staying a while."

"Great!" Ellie was able to cut through any of the tension as she stepped between you and Tommy, grabbing hold of his arm. You breathed a small sigh of relief; things had quickly gotten to a point where you didn't know what to even think.

Joel quirked an eyebrow at you but remained silent otherwise. The look was never enough to kill you; damn these Miller brothers. You huffed, "don't say a word, Joel."

He held up his hands in mock surrender as you huffed and followed after Ellie and Tommy.

Well. This day had definitely not gone according to plan.

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After that initial afternoon of introductions and reunions, you managed to avoid Tommy for a few days. It wasn't too hard in Jackson; there were way more people than you had initially imagined. It felt so strange, but wonderful, to be somewhere that felt…normal again. Between that and Tommy, it almost seemed like things really were almost like they had been all those years ago.

"Hey there," his soft voice cut through your thoughts as you turned your gaze away from the softly falling snow and onto him. You stiffened for a moment before smiling at him.

"Hey Tommy," you moved over on the bench and brushed off the powdery fluff. He beamed at the silent invitation and sat down next to you, leaving just enough of a gap between your bodies.

"I was wondering if I'd ever see you again," you could hear the teasing lilt in his voice, "I was almost sure you'd been avoiding me."

"I-I wasn't…avoiding you," it was a lie and you both knew it. Tommy laughed, and you realized just how much you loved his laugh. It had always been one of your favorite things.

"You've always been a horrible liar," he gently nudged your knee with his and you couldn't help the shy smile that bubbled up, "I guess time doesn't change everything."

"I guess not," your stomach churned with a plethora of emotions. Everything all at once.

"How'd you end up with my brother?" his cheeks flushed and not just from the cold. It took a moment till you caught on and you almost laughed.

"I'm, ugh, I'm not with Joel," you promised and his shoulders visibly relaxed, "we're just friends. Trust me, I'm not - I'm definitely not - interested in him."

"Oh," you peeked over to see the smile on his face grow, "okay, that's umm, yeah. Good. And you've, ugh, never-"

"No," a shiver ran down your spine as you cut him off. Sure, Joel was handsome but you were definitely not into him, "and no thank you."

"Cool," a silence fell over the two of you, neither awkward or completely still.

"What about you and Maria?" Yeah. You were curious too.

"We…we were together for a while," he confessed and you hated how it made your stomach twist and turn. It wasn't your place to be jealous but…you were feeling particularly green, "but it didn't work out. So we're just friends."

"Well, that's good that you're still friends," and your insides were jumping around happily.

"Mhmm," he hummed in agreement before it grew quiet again. You could practically hear Ellie screaming in your ear to make a move. Lord knows that she was absolutely wanting to see the two of you get tougher again. It would be just like a movie she'd sighed dreamily.

You shifted and angled your body so you were facing him and found that he was watching you intently. You opened and closed your mouth a few times and yet somehow he knew exactly what you were thinking. Tommy leaned in and put his hand on your cheek, hesitating for just a moment to search your eyes for permission before kissing you.

And suddenly it felt like you'd never stopped kissing him. It all felt so familiar and so…right that you thought you'd never want to forget this again. Tommy Miller always kissed you like his life depended on it.

When he pulled away, and for all you knew he could have been kissing for seconds or hours or minutes, you made a small sound of disappointment.

"I know," there was nothing but affectionate teasing behind his voice, "but if I keep kissing you, I might sink and drown, and die. Give a man a second."

"Was it that bad?" Your eyes widened with worry but the man shook his head.

"The opposite," he grinned, "I just needed a moment so I don't get too crazy for you. It's always been hard."

"Oh," alright, that was a way better answer than you'd hoped for, "I've missed that too. Honestly, I've missed you. A lot…but I feel like that's really obvious to say."

"Not a day passed when I didn't think of you," he admitted shyly, "even if it was just for a moment, but you were still there in my mind. Like it was yesterday."

"Well, I'm sure the reality," you pointed at yourself, "is disappointing compared to the memory."

"That's where you're wrong," he scoffed as though you must have been blind, "you're just as beautiful now as the day I met you."

"Tommy-"

"I mean it," he put his hand on top of yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, "I've dreamed about this day so many times. I never thought…that I would actually get the chance to see you again."

"Me neither," you really wanted to wrap yourself up in him, "I'm just afraid you're not going to like this version of me. What if I'm not like you remember?"

"None of us are the same, sweetheart," he insisted softly, "we've all been through so much shit. But deep down we're all the people we once were."

"You think so?" You could feel the tears welling up already, "I mean, I'm just assuming you'd want to even…try again. You know what, forget I said anything - you don't want-"

"I do," he quickly cut off any of your negative thoughts, "I really do. You think I'd give up this second chance with my dream girl?"

"Dream girl?" and oh. The way you were looking at him made him want to melt, "I'm your dream girl?"

"You always have been and always will be," he grew bashful as you looked at him in awe, "and I think we were given this opportunity for a reason. And I know it's scary, but if you're in, I kind of want to try again. Us."

"Are you sure?"

"I've been thinking about it since the moment I saw you," he leaned in and you were so close you could kiss him - and you definitely intended on doing that again, "so I guess it's up to you, sweetheart."

"I'm in," you promised without hesitation, "all in."

"Me too," and then he kissed you again, softly but with so much love, "all in."

#tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x fem!reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller imagine #tommy miller one shot #gabriel luna #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us #x reader

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corgoship · 3 days ago

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Fandoms vs. The inconceivable goodness of fictional cultures

It's strange and a bit worrying how (often adult) fans look at fictional marginalized cultures (in kids media) that are by default written to be virtuous, and they twist themselves into knots to try to prove how they were horrible people all along, and I'm left wondering: Why? Not to mention it's often coupled with apologism for the actual, textual bad guys, who are often straight up fascists.

This is mostly about the Jedi (Star Wars) and Air Nomads (Avatar: The Last Airbender) but feel free to add more if you know any.

My analysis and observations are under cut! Fair warning, this is a long post, and I'm writing this on the fly, so please forgive me if this isn't as coherent as it was in my head.

(Sidenote: It appears as though both of these cultures were inspired by Buddhism to certain extents, way more blatantly in atla. However, I would argue that the some of the philosophical conflict regarding attachment in atla was pretty heavily influenced by Star Wars: the season 2 finale is emotionally almost the exact same thing as the climax of Empire Strikes Back! But that's a story for another post...)

In a nutshell

Both of these cultures are described as wise and peaceful. They both put a lot of emphasis on meditation and enlightement. The Air Nomads are pacifists and vegetarians. The Jedi preach love and compassion, as per Anakin in Attack of the Clones. Both of them value love, but are discouraging of attachment - which a lot of people wrongly conflate with love in these texts, I believe. It is not specified whether or not Air Nomads could marry, but they lived in monasteries separated by gender, and the Jedi were not allowed to marry. Both of these cultures were victims of genocide by a fascist regime. And both the stories of Avatar and the original Star Wars trilogy are about an individual, who can be considered the last of their extinct kind, and the resurgence of their forgotten beliefs of kindness bringing peace to a war-torn world.

(Sidenote no. 2: they both have Mark Hamill. On the actual opposing sides of the spectrum, too. He went from being the hero electrocuted by the Emperor to... Being the Emperor electrocuting the hero. Which is kind of funny to me.)

With all that said, it will always boggle my mind how people will say these fictional cultures were conservative, arrogant, harmful towards children, dogmatic in their religion, and worst of all, DESERVING of being murdered. This is something I will NEVER understand or agree with.

The many crimes of the elemental monks and the space wizards

Let's dig into the criticisms they often receive, shall we?

To rapid fire list off a few: being too isolated from the rest of the world, indoctrinating children, having strict rules that restrict freedoms, deeming feelings to be inconsequential and a bad thing, considering themselves to be superior, and being too arrogant to notice their coming demise, which some consider to be justified by the aggressor.

Now, I will say not all of it is without merit, and some of these things could be taken as real flaws that were intended by the creators of the respective stories. The Air Nomad elders are dismissive of Aang's fears and that fear is what essentially forces him to run away at twelve years old. The Jedi Council tells nine years old Anakin that his fear for his slave mother could potentially lead him to the Dark Side and make him evil. Both cultures teach their children from a very young age, and the children are raised communally - which isn't in itself a bad thing, but I can see how some people mind find that uncomfortable, especially with the Jedi, who take in children from various cultures. Both Luke and Aang are advised to not only forego attachment towards the people they love, but they are actively asked to stand by and potentially let their loved ones be hurt or killed. (Take this last point with a grain of salt because neither Aang or Luke were ready to do what they did, and they both paid for it dearly, so the advice does have real merit, despite what some people might tell you.)

This is about the extent of the textual flaws I could find. So what do fandoms do? They take these flaws and completely blow them out of proportion. I have seen takes that claim both the AN and Jedi steal children from their families. That they are dogmatic in their religious beliefs, ostracize those who don't conform (or don't have their special powers), and they are condescending to other cultures, even considering themselves to be superior to others. That their ideologies were harmful and that they deserved to be eradicated for it.

How do you make a leap like that? In a story made for children, no less? We are presented with these cultures as being good, and the text never urges us to question their goodness. And this is by design - because again, these are stories for children, so there isn't much moral ambiguity when it comes to the murdered peaceful pacifists and the evil imperial super power threatening the world. So why do people still twist the narrative in spite of this?

Grey morality only gets a story so far

My best guess is that they DO want that moral ambiguity to be present, even if there is none, because that's "more realistic" and "better storytelling". I can agree with both of those statements to a point, but realistic doesn't automatically equal better. Sure, added nuance can often enrich stories and prompt more philosophical questions and more interesting conflict within the story itself, but is it always necessary? Does it always enhance the themes the story is trying to tell?

We are told to take the fact that the AN/Jedi are are a force of good at face value. And why wouldn't we? What is it that makes people question this, despite there existing little canonical information to disprove the innate goodness of these cultures built on love and compassion? Again, I believe that people - mostly adults - crave for things to not be black and white. Real life usually isn't. But stories aren't real life. There isn't some hidden secret that proves these bad-faith right. There are some flaws present at worst, but that is enough to spin headcanons and straight up lies that further the idea that there is no such thing as a paragon of goodness. Because of such a thing not existing in reality, it cannot exist in fiction either.

To love or not to love

The biggest issue people take with these two cultures, as far as I have noticed, is their view on love and attachment.

And then there is the most extreme version of this - the people who claim these cultures were the true evil all along, and that they were deserving of being victims to genocide by the imperial power. This is more rampant in atla fan spaces, and the agenda there is a bit more spite-motivated, because while the Air Nomads didn't hurt anybody (unlike the Jedi who could be seen as hurting Anakin, as far-fetched as that claim is), Aang is an Air Nomad, and a certain part of the atla fandom really doesn't like him (not gonna beat about the bush: it's certain zutara shippers). By painting his dead culture - which Aang loves and holds in high regard - as bad, they either make him supportive of harmful beliefs, or naive and ignorant, unwilling to take criticism, therefore stubborn and bigoted.

This is of course connected to his romantic relationship with Katara, which a lot of people claim is a bad thing. I will not get into the specifics here, but a large chunk of the fandom doesn't understand what the act of "letting go of your attachment" means, and that Aang achieves this in the s2 finale (which is what allows him to enter the avatar state on command), and that he's not, in fact, unhealthily obsessing over Katara. A different shade of this criticism is that in being the Avatar (similarly in Star Wars, a Jedi), Aang cannot love Katara in a full, meaningful way, because he is held back by his duties, and he must put the world over her.

Much like in Avatar, in Star Wars, attachment IS an obsessive form of love that impacts people negatively and should be avoided. In the more extreme cases, such as the case of Anakin, it leads to ruin, and it is his inability to let go of his feelings and think rationally that creates problems. In the case of Luke (and Aang in s2) and his love for his friends, he gets punished by the narrative for indulging his fear - he gets mutilated as a direct result of choosing his friends over taking the time to become stronger and have a better chance against his enemies.

Now look me in the eye and tell me where do either of these stories state that love is bad. You can't, because that's not what the stories are claiming at all (there is a reason why Aang ends up with Katara, and why Luke redeems his father through his love), and some people are incapable of drawing that distinction. They would rather claim that the AN/Jedi are dismissive of love and feelings as a whole, than to admit that the sort of love THEY personally value might be unhealthy.

Because I do honestly the believe that most of these detractors are the type to find "i would burn the whole world down for you" to be the truest form of love and devotion... When that, is in fact, the exact thing these stories caution about, and by pointing that out, they're not claiming that love is bad, but that it has the potential to grow into obsession, which we can all agree, is objectively bad.

Lastly, let's look at the other side of the equation...

Long live the empire!

The evil Fire Nation and the evil Galactic Empire are just that - point blank evil. This has never been put in question by either piece of media. There is nuance to be found, sure, with the Headband episode in atla and Zuko as a character, and... I actually can't think of a single not-blatantly-bad thing about the Empire/Sith in the original trilogy + prequels, lol. Maybe that the separatists had a point, and that the republic was collapsing in on itself under bureaucracy and corruption - but that's still no brownie point for the Empire nor Palpatine, lol.

Palpatine's derision and disdain for the Jedi is used to manipulate Anakin to... Become evil. And while his words may have a grain of truth in them, they are deliberately twisting the Jedi ideology and making the Dark Side look not only palatable, but necessary for Anakin to save Padmé, something the Jedi had failed him in (as far as Anakin himself believes). Why would people readily believe the bad guy, who has been lying and deceiving everyone, about the things he deliberately said to manipulate Anakin? Because it makes Anakin's turn seem more... Justifiable that way? It sure did in his eyes, but we as the viewers are supposed to see past that, since we have all the context, and he doesn't.

Atla takes a bit of a different approach and tackles the anti-Air Nomad propaganda head on. In the afforementioned episode The Headband, we go inside a Fire Nation school, and we see how they are being taught lies in order to justify the FN's attack on them (claiming they had an army, etc.). And yet there are still people who claim otherwise, that the FN was indeed right to do what they did, despite canon making it very clear that they are lying about what happened! (Also, let's just throw away the entirity of s1 episode 3 where Aang comes across the charred bones of his people and his mentor... Let's just not touch that, I guess. Don't worry about it.).

In both cases, the common thread is that the FASCIST bad guys are given grace, while the marginalized minorities are demonized. They are excused for their crimes time and time again, because what? Their aesthetic is cool? Their weapons/fighting style are cool? They're badass? You can appreciate these things for what they are, sure, but when does liking how something looks swing over into condoning the very bad things these people are guilty of? Probably when you start preaching how they, in fact, "did nothing wrong", and how the resistance are terrorists, and that people are inclined to be on their side only because the narrative paints them as the good guys... Yeah. You've lost the plot.

Or... Maybe you just like the person committing the atrocities...

It's not my fault my blorbo is a fascist warmonger!

This is the last point I will go over, I swear. There certainly is an overlap between fans who hate said marginalized cultures, and fans who love a certain character... Who happens to be a part of the fascist regime. Respectively for these fandoms, it's Zuko and Iroh in atla, and Anakin/Vader in Star Wars. Now, I am not saying Zuko is a bad person by the end of atla, don't get me wrong, but he spends the majority of the show flaunting the fact that he's a prince, and he's actively oppressing and terrorizing people in the first season. A huge part of his growth is recognising how the Fire Nation is crushing the world in an iron fist and reigning terror - Zuko says as much in his conversation with Ozai before he defects. I feel like the vast majority of people recognise that his words ring true, and that he's become a better person by confronting his father and his evil regime. But there are still some, who will bend over backwards to make the Fire Nation look better, so that Zuko and/or Iroh are absolved of their earlier crimes. Because god forbid my favourite character did bad things in the past, right? It's blatantly clear when people do this, and why they do this. An extended version of this is when they make the FN seem less evil so that Zuko can be shipped with Katara without any hang ups about her becoming the Fire Lady or similar common tropes in the zutara fandom.

And then we have Anakin. To keep it short, a lot of people view Anakin and Vader as two different people (Anakin didn't murder the younglings. Vader did!) and believe that he's not responsible for his actions after falling to the Dark Side. How to deal with his actions pre-fall, you ask? Well, he was justified, because the Jedi were holding him back, because they lied to him and belittled him, and refused to help him. All of Anakin's actions up to that point are the Jedi's fault, of course! I'm not saying their treatment of him was inconsequential to how things turned out, but he was very much in control of his actions and chose to do the things he did. The Empire wasn't going to magically fix the problems of the republic (and by extension, the Jedi) and I have no idea why certain people would think so.

Just kidding, I know why...

So... Where do we go from here?

I don't know man, I don't have a conclusion drafted. I just think this phenomenon is quite sad to see - people are refusing to see past their own biases, and they would rather twist the story to their liking than engage with the text in a more meaningful, constructive way.

I do think this needs to be called out when you see it, because it's a very relevant issue today. Fascism isn't cool just because the people doing it are someone you identify with in some way. Genocide isn't cool because the people affected are someone you disagree with.

It's just fiction, but these problems are present in the real world, too. People are very quick to forgive someone they support, and very eager to stone anyone they disagree with. They are not past creating and spreading misinformation about those they hate, just to get more people to agree with them.

It's quite worrying to me, especially since in these fandoms in particular, it boils down to the same thing - if people can't understand right and wrong when it is being spoonfed to them by a story crafted to be understood by children... Then how will they act in the real world, when met with more complicated matters?

Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#star wars #avatar the last airbender #atla #pro jedi #pro air nomad #fire nation critical #empire critical #atla meta #star wars meta #fandom problems #anti zutara #aang #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #long post #THIS TOOK ME LIKE 2 HOURS TO TYPE OUT I SWEAR #i hope it's actually comprehensible oml

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sepublic · 3 days ago

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Dana Terrace Q&A at Weebcon 2025!!!

youtube

Since I don’t see anyone else posting it (despite not being the only person recording, I noticed at least two others), I may as well show my recording of the Dana Terrace Q&A from Weebcon 2025! I actually got to ask Dana a question myself, more on that a bit; But as for the rundown:

If she was transported to the Boiling Isles, the person to teach her magic would of course be Eda; Dana sheepishly hesitated as she said it because it was so obvious, but at the same time what other answer would there be, besides maybe Bump??? She joked that Eda would probably get her killed, but still!

Out of the voice cast, Wendie Malick as Eda really stuck out to Dana, being a professional who knew exactly what to do, and a pretty well-known one at that; It was Dana’s first time as a showrunner so she was inexperienced in guiding the VAs, but Wendie helped encourage Dana to offer her input.

If asked what track she’d be in, Dana acknowledged her self-insert and acknowledged they were an Oracle, and also Beastkeeping, though noted it’d been two years, so she had trouble remembering; Indeed, IIRC she said in a Post-Hoot after the finale that her self-insert was supposed to be in Construction? Or maybe I’m just making that connection because back during the 2020 Reddit AMA, Dana brought up Construction due to being a more artsy coven.

Dana was excited how she, JBO, and Zach now had the opportunity to do all of the grosser, tense, emotionally intense things they wanted to do with The Owl House in Knights of Guinevere. KoG was actually developed towards the end of TOH’s run, in fact; During Dana’s freetime, she’d keep herself from going insane by working on this project, and eventually pitched it to her fellow head writers, who helped Dana develop the idea further. Eventually they pitched KoG to Glitch a year later. Dana described it as “messy” and “experimental” but also “fun.”

I find this revelation interesting, because given how long production in animation takes, it always amazed me how quickly Dana was able to get another show running, after TOH ended! So learning it was technically in the works since before TOH ended fits things nicely into a timeline here; Dana didn’t simply take a surprisingly short showrunning hiatus and then come up with this, it was being formulated as TOH was wrapping up!

No surprise, Disney and Glitch are “Night and day” in their treatment of artists and showrunners, with Dana mentioning she feels taken care of by Glitch, treated nicely.

If Dana had the opportunity to voice one of her characters, she said –if she was suddenly good at voice acting- King, due to his “explosive range” while mentioning a KoG character who has yet to debut.

Pitching a show is starting an idea, working on it from months to year; TOH only took a couple months before Dana pitched it to Disney, because she needed to do this, to try and see if it got any traction. She brought it a room of 2-3 people who pretended to be interested, because they’d heard a bunch of other pitches that day, so when Dana stood out, it felt nice. It takes three months for executives to decide if they want to move forward on it, and then another 3-6 months, etc.

Dana got be involved with the voice actors as much as she wanted to and could, with seasons 1-2, she was there for almost every performance. With S2B and S3, Dana could trust Eden Riegel to direct in her place as she was more involved with writing at the time. Dana was mostly involved in writing, in figuring out the scripts and working with the weird curveballs Disney threw them; Some solutions were successful, others not as much. There were many limitations in S1.

Every performance of Hooty by Alex in the booth was hilarious; He’d often start riffing in Hooty’s voice and going a full minute longer than his actual two lines to say. They were able to use a couple of Hooty lines, but most were unused.

This was the part where us fans were invited to line up and ask questions!!!

If Dana could change one thing about the show (other than the cancellation) she admitted to wanting to rewrite Once Upon a Swap LMAAAAOOOOOOOOO-

To come up with the concept of TOH’s universe, Dana started off with the initial concept that she disliked a lot of fantasy novels and stories. So when she created, it came from a place of cynicism and negativity (not always great, in her words), and she liked to challenge herself to take something she disliked and found frustrating, and figure out a version of it she could love. So Dana turned this fantasy world into something more gruesome, scary. She put a horror spin, gave everything teeth and claws; Make it fun for her!

Five years ago, the character Dana related to the most was Luz because of plenty of her stories, esp in regard to her father’s death at a young age and not fitting in. But now that Dana’s thirty-four, she relates to Eda a lot; She finds herself becoming more isolated and against the world. At some point she might start wearing solely red dresses.

When creating the concept of the Collector, Dana’s thought process was wanting to create someone very ethereal and childish, and had this thought of a child flying through space, who never understood death, and liked to create chaos and destruction in his wake. She doesn’t really know why. The thought process and the galactic aesthetic of someone like that was very interesting to Dana; The Collector ended up being one of her favorite characters.

(I find this info very vindicating, as I’ve seen people speculate that the Collector not knowing of death was a contradictory retcon done in S3 to make them more sympathetic; No, that was always the idea, since the very beginning! Since they rewrote the Collector prior to S2B, mind you; Before that, Dana confirmed during her Gallery Nucleus that they originally had a different personality and direction as seen in 2A, which is likely why that depiction was made into a separate character, an Archivist. But by Elsewhere and Elsewhen, a Collector oblivious to death was always the goal. We’re getting Ship of Theseus here about characters during the development process.)

Onto my question!!! I asked about the Watching and Dreaming storyboard in which Odalia would’ve been there alongside the Hexsquad, watching the horizon after Belos’ defeat, and how Rebecca Bozza confirmed there was a cut confrontation between Camila and Odalia in the Archives.

Dana mused that if Camila ever met Odalia, it probably wouldn’t be a pretty situation; There’d be a lot of glares. But there’s no canonical confrontation, so Dana could only pretend that Camila would’ve smacked her.

I think Dana may have misheard my question? And/or she didn’t recall what they had planned for the finale (I was too shy to clarify, press her about it); It makes me wonder if the idea had been too shortlived, and the writers juggling so much (in addition to Dana handling KoG, as we’ve just discovered), that it’s since slipped her mind after two years. This does make me wonder if it was, in some part, a fluke by the storyboard artist; After all, Clouds on the Horizon had storyboards in which Amity wore the portal key necklace while confronting her mother within the Abomaton bubble.

Of all the TOH scenes Dana wrote, her favorite was the whole third act of King’s Tide; She co-wrote it with Zach Marcus. Dana handled a lot of how it paced out, the way the dialogue came out. Sometimes Dana writes a script and it’s the most painful, struggling experience for her; So difficult to perfect and get out, requiring a thousand changes. But for King’s Tide, there it was! And she’s very proud of it. Dana has a hard time looking back at the show, because it’s like an old sketchbook for her; She’s always wishing she could’ve done something better. But King’s Tide is one of the few episodes she can say she nailed that one.

(God I feel that. Personal aside, I think something a lot of writers take for granted is their ability to always look back and edit and revise at their own leisure, even after posting, whenever they want, until the end of time. But writers for shows don’t exactly get that luxury, especially when a script needs to be finalized so animation and everything else, its own beast, can follow suit. Can’t easily update a script –esp at the last second- without demanding the rest follow!)

Two questions about KoG; What was the moment when Dana worked with Glitch that made her realize the difference between it and Disney? Dana was very cautious going into Glitch, and as she told some there, that she was going in like a stray cat who didn’t trust anyone, like she was left out in the cold. But slowly, over the course of the year, Dana realized Glitch actually treated their artists with respect; If someone says something isn’t working and offers another way, Glitch actually listens and changes! Wild! They’re a company (she’d rather say “group of people”) that seem very determined to learn and grow and make sure everyone’s doing right. Glitch is a far cry from Disney.

The other question was what was the process of Glitch doing 2D animation for KoG instead of its usual 3D; Did Dana have to convince them, or were they open from the start? Dana thought Glitch was always excited to do 2D, and one of the things she was able to offer was her experience in doing a 2D show and how production for it would look. It was an arrangement that worked out for everyone, where Dana got to create her own pipeline for the show which has been working very well this far. There’s no odd restrictions from Glitch’s management, it’s been very nice.

In regards to cosplays she’d like to see of her characters, or which stood out to her, Dana once saw a 7-foot tall (before the horns!!!) Belos cosplay that was size-accurate via giant platform boots underneath the cloak; It was awesome. Dana always loves seeing King costumes because they’re essentially giant furry suits, but she speculates it’s also why she doesn’t see many of them, because furry suits can be very intense to make. But Dana was very excited to see any KoG cosplays in the future.

This part intrigued me, because the day prior, a fan dressed as the princess from KoG had shown up to meet Dana Terrace and I’d come across them, exchanged info, and clarified that the schedule for Dana had updated since it was announced back near the end of February; At first she was going to be there for all three days of Weebcon, but could only be there for two (On her Bluesky account, she did allude to some trouble occurring to her that Friday, which may have been the reason for this change). I’d reassured the cosplayer they hadn’t missed Dana or done anything wrong…

And lo and behold, the person who asked the question had also met this cosplayer, and brought it up to Dana! Dana was excited and wished she could’ve seen, and asked for anyone with a photo of the cosplay to tag her on Twitter or any other social media.

What Dana listens to when doing art is True Crime podcasts, which sucked her in during the pandemic. Other than that, she listens to classical music, as it fires certain neurons within her brain that get her very focused; She has a hard time watching anything when drawing. Sometimes Dana goes into psycho mode, pure silence; Earplugs in, nothing but the beat of her own heart, and pure focus. Locked-in, takes a certain insane mood for sure.

A fellow Raine cosplayer asked Dana what she was most excited for in regard to KoG, and she said Episode 4!!! There’s lots of stuff Dana and co. are planning; Obviously the pilot’s not finished right now, but the things they’re thinking about are very exciting and she’s excited for everyone to see the character designs and stunning animation. Dana lamented that if she kept going, she’d end up saying something she wasn’t supposed to. She’s so quiet posting online, because otherwise she’d just be posting KoG and inevitably slip up. Overall, she’s excited.

If Dana got to do Owl House with no restrictions, Dana absolutely would’ve leaned more into the horror theme; She initially pitched it as PG-13 and leaning more into horror, though this doesn’t mean they would’ve taken away any of the heart or sweetness between the characters (Which I’ve suspected and really appreciate to hear; Always good to have the heart beneath it all). All this means is that the intense scenes would’ve been more intense, and the tension between characters more intense.

Overall the art direction might’ve been grittier; But during development, executives kept suggesting the crew round out the characters to make them more appealing, and at some point Dana was frustrated because her personal art style has a lot of straight lines. She would’ve liked to have leaned more into horror and the original vision, BUT she’s still very happy with how it came out.

Someone I met and talked to earlier about Isabelle Rosalini’s role in the show, and the enormity of the feat, also brought it up again with their question about whether there was a TOH design where Dana had a specific actor in mind to play them.

The interviewer, at that point, had the perfect segue to bring in none other than Zeno Robinson himself, who I’d just found out was going to be at Weebcon the first day I attended, and even got a signed print from him! I’d wondered if he was going to be there at Dana’s QnA and forgot to ask him about it, but of course he was. There was no way he wasn’t going to be.

Going back to the question, Dana decided she’d want everyone to be voiced by Zeno. But in all seriousness, Dana said she wasn’t allowed to answer that question.

If Dana hadn’t made TOH through Disney, was there a specific plotline she wanted in the show that couldn’t be added or was axed because of “the rat”? Dana would’ve loved to explore the Bat Queen’s arc (talk about good timing with the prior question mentioning Rosalini, which Dana acknowledged) and had a whole thing planned, it was going to be very sweet and somber. Dana loves drawing the Bat Queen. But when they had to cut down plotlines, BQ unfortunately had to be cut.

Dana’s reaction to the internet’s reaction to various TOH developments wasn’t a specific one; Her stomach was always in a knot whenever an episode dropped, and she and some of the crew would watch the comment section on the sides of livestreams. It was always stressful, even if overwhelmingly positive; Zeno could relate.

Zeno mentioned how when an artist gives so much of themselves, the art is never finished in their eyes; They could’ve always done this, or added this thing. (“It was like 90% there” Dana concurred). It’s the most presentable version within the time constraint they’re given, but sometimes it’s never like that 100% finished product one wished they had, so it’s tough as an artist to look at something objectively because you just don’t get why everyone likes it. Zeno sometimes re-listens to his Hunter audition, which Dana found so good, and wonder how he got cast. Dana clarified it was the part where Zeno freaked out.

(Can I say how much we take for granted as fans that we can always, at our leisure, go back to update and improve our own works? Or take as long as we need to create the best version of something, without any deadlines to meet?)

If there was a full S3, Dana confirmed to Zeno he would’ve voiced every single hypothetical Grimwalker, and that they would’ve alluded more to Darius’ mentor, talked about it more plainly for sure. Dana joked about doing it in a S4, but also clarified that would never be in the cards… Supplementary materials on the other hand!!!

Zeno mentioned wanting to see an exploration into the past of Hunter and the prior Golden Guards, and their connection to Caleb and Belos; Like a single graphic novel, Dana concurred, as there’s so many storylines in TOH that would make awesome TOH one-shot comics. She joked to Zeno about it being time to pitch spin-offs, with Zeno replying it’s been enough time.

When coming up with the magic system for TOH and how it contributed to the characters, and what her inspirations were, Dana explained it all stemmed from the basic idea that Luz herself can’t do it; Everyone else around her can do it so easily, with a literal flick of their wrist. Luz has to work extra-hard in drawing the complicated designs each time and remembering them, learning how to combine them in different ways, and the worst part, finding them in the first place, which Luz didn’t even know she had to do at first.

So it might not have been the most elegant place to begin building a magic system, in Dana’s words (if she could go back and redo it, she’d have some better solutions to some walls they ran into), but for her any kind of system, be it worldbuilding or magic, has to start with how it affects the main character, why it affects the main character, what’s the purpose of the system in the first place.

In regard to the (leaked!!!!) pitch bible, which Dana was chill about, there are a lot of things she wished she’d kept from it; The main thing she learned as a first-time showrunner was that she needed to stick to her gut more. She had to trust her instincts more, because if she didn’t like what she’s doing or the suggestions being made, then she’s going to have a miserable time for the next four years.

One of the changes Dana did like was Lilith going from Hexside’s principal to head of the Emperor’s Coven; Being a principal just wasn’t as exciting as being behind enemy lines. Plus we got to see her fall from grace, which was really funny for Dana (same here for me). It’s tough; One needs to learn to stick to what they love, but also learn not to be precious(?) at the same time, because new and better ideas come all the time, and one needs to learn to let go of old things to embrace the new and cool things. At the same time! You need to learn how to see what’s unnecessary, and stick to an older idea; It’s a balance.

(I feel this one a lot with GEverse.)

Dana can’t clarify on how many KoG episodes there will be, just that the pilot is in production.

Dana has taken inspiration from artists such as Tatsuyuki Tanaka, who she’d murder to draw like; She was just looking at some of his works before arriving to Weebcon. Hieronymous Bosch was a huge inspiration for TOH, though she doesn’t necessarily want to draw like him; She still derives from him. She loves Naoki Urasawa, and Dana and Zeno love his Pluto, which makes Dana cry everytime she reads it; She admires Urasawa so much as an artist and storyteller. He’s one of her top favorites ever.

What’s the deal with Hooty and the Titan? It was a symbiotic relationship. Worms are a type of parasite.

Dana would’ve loved to put a scene in S3 (it was one of her original ideas for it!) building off of how Belos tried to manipulate Luz in King’s Tide on the basis of her being human like him and so he’s trying to “help” her; She wanted to make that moment so much more longer and manipulative by setting a scene in an autumnal forest, where the leaves are falling, it’s quiet and serene and creepy, and Luz and Belos are speaking about their experiences with death.

With Luz it was her father Manny, with Belos it’s his brother Caleb; Obviously, it’s very different circumstances, with Luz pointing out her father died. Belos killed Caleb. Them having a very intense conversation was something Dana always wanted to do, and she’s so sad she never got to do it.

(To go on a tangent, I find this fascinating for obvious reasons, and I think the writers managed to somewhat adapt the concept into the final episode? There’s the parallels in Belos bringing up their similarities as “witch hunters” in order to gaslight Luz, as well as his Woe Is Me schtick about Caleb, only for Luz to shut it down with the very blatant point that Belos murdered Caleb, he brought that entire situation upon himself!

In general, the parallels still manage to speak for themselves, so you can feel them shadow that canon callout by Luz. So even if the exact idea didn’t go through, I think the spirit of the contrast between these two deaths that motivate Hero and Villain in opposite ways, because of opposite roles they played, culminates in Luz having every right to call out Belos’ hypocrisy, as the theme of Death asserts itself before the Collector learns later on.)

If TOH was given a PG-13 rating and Dana could insert one F-bomb, she deliberated on either Hooty or Eda saying it; It would take her so long to figure out where in the show. Perhaps if Hooty met Belos, he’d say it there.

The final question: How much does an actor know about a character when coming into an audition, and how long have they known that information prior to the audition? According to Zeno, usually there’s a description and a bit of what the character is about, maybe there’s a bit on their arc. Sometimes productions are incredibly detailed, or just detailed enough. Sometimes he gets a basic idea of a character’s trajectory, their traits and inspirations, other times it’s just the main personality traits and what they like; You usually know what you need to know, and not much more than that.

For example, Zeno didn’t know Hunter’s real name when he auditioned; He was just the Golden Guard, with Dana explaining they were being very cagey about his name, not sure of how much they could put out about him. Zeno saw his face and five lines, but one can infer things from lines; It can provide more insight into personality than the description itself.

All in all, it's surreal to not only be in one of these Q&As, but to have recorded it myself, rewatch my own recording as I transcribe, summarize, and analyze as I normally do, and even get to ask a question myself! It was difficult figuring out which question to ask, though it appears some got away with two, but alas I was shy about appearing greedy. I suppose I overthought it, and in the end everyone who lined up got to say theirs! I guess one could say I didn't actually get my question answered after all; But if I get the fortune of another chance, I'll try something different, both as a question and potentially a drawing request! If fate deems it so.

#The Owl House #Dana Terrace #Zeno Robinson #Weebcon #Weebcon 2025 #Luz Noceda #The Owl House Collector #The Owl House Bat Queen #The Owl House Hooty #Knights of Guinevere #Emperor Belos #Philip Wittebane #PSA #Youtube

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miks-delusional-blog · 1 day ago

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HI HI HI if you take emoji anons I’d like to be 💚!!!!

can i request something with arkham knight jason x male or gender neutral reader?? it would be so so sick if you could do something where reader is arkham knight’s medic or something, something something “you have to learn to be more careful”

sorry if this is disrespectful and you dont have to do it, but thanks for listening and best of luck with your writing !!!

Personal Medic- AK!Jason Todd x GN! Reader

A/n

Hi! You may be 💚 anon! You’re actually my first anon request :)

Also it’s okay to request what you requested, it’s not offensive at all. I’ve never written male reader before so for this request I made it GN! Every x reader that I write is GN! Unless specified as fem! Though I do wonder if I’ve accidentally coded them as fem…

I hope you enjoy this one shot, I struggled quite a bit with the ending, and I did try out another type of storyline in my drafts but this felt like the best one? Lmao if you wanted to know what the other draft was about feel free to message 🫶

Enjoy! 💞

Disclaimer! I’m not a medic/know nothing about medicine so do not take any medical advice from this post please.

Tags: fluff, strangers/friends to lovers, there’s a smooch, w.c 1623

You have to learn to be more careful.” You grumble, sewing up another bullet wound chipping his shoulder.

This has become a nightly routine.

You’d come home after a 12 Hour shift, and maybe he’d already be waiting for you in your living room with a giant slash or a gaping wound. It’s a good thing you don’t have a white couch. Just a brown, very worn down, probably older than you, couch.

“What’s the point in all this armour if you still end up like this every night?” And like every night you complain while he sits quietly watching you at work, his hand kneading the armrest.

He doesn’t usually talk too much. You’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t like you, but he must tolerate you to always come back.

“Are you almost done?” He asks in a low voice, strained but almost soft. Not how he used to talk to you.

When he first fell on your fire escape he was covered in blood and pushed a gun at your chest, threatening to kill you if you even touched him. Now he was in your living room quiet as a mouse, no longer too shy to keep his helmet on as he let you work.

Of course you knew who he was. At this point, who in Gotham hadn’t heard of the Arkham Knight? You don’t know why you hadn’t called the police on him. You suppose it’s because he wasn’t so scary like this.

And the fact that you happened to keep finding hundred dollar bills on the coffee table after he’d left didn’t push you to really want to. Student debt and the cost of living crisis is a real bitch, some of us have to eat.

It’s probably a bad idea to have a man like this in your apartment.

You finish closing the wound, “almost good as new. Don’t tear this one. Let me see the one from last week.” you take off your gloves and set your tools down in a tray as he stripped off his chest plate.

You crouch in front of him analysing the wound. Gently pushing at his chest, “Sit up… relax a little.” Your finger brushes over the stitches. “Might have to keep them for a few more days, especially considering you tore them before. Would it kill you to have a few days rest? The more injuries you get, the harder it is for old wounds to heal.”

“I can barely take the time to sleep.” he finally looks into your eyes. Blue, almost gray. And you realise how close the two of you are, as if you weren’t just sticking a needle and suture in him.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“... Few hours.”

“Few hours? Should be at least six.” You roll your eyes with a slight playfulness. “Though with your injuries, maybe eight…You need to look after yourself better.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Well excuse me, you’re the one who keeps me up. Why do you keep coming back here? Hospitals are 24/7.” You move to sit more comfortably on the couch. Your knee bumps his for a moment as your head lulls to the side, pressing your cheek against the couch cushion. A small wave of tiredness hits.

“I think you know why I can’t just go to a hospital.” He huffs. “ And you get the job done.” He sits back, his breath hitching a little from soreness.

“With a lot of complaints.”

The corner of his lip twitches up, “Certainly with a lot of complaints.”

“This isn’t exactly the most sterile environment. And I know you could easily find someone to do this more efficiently, and not in their pajamas.”

“Suppose that’s true.”

“So why do you keep coming back?”

“Why do you keep treating me?” He turns to you.

“I can’t exactly say no when you’re bleeding out on my floor.”

“But you’ve never called the police on me.”

“...yeah…so?” You get a little embarrassed.

He smiles, it’s almost wicked.

“You’re good at bribing me.” you huff softly, “I’m in debt, I was living paycheck to paycheck. Now I can buy triple-ply toilet paper and buy a sweet treat once a week without breaking the bank.”

“What’s your ‘sweet treat’ this week?”

“... It’s stupid.”

He raises a brow. “Just tell me.”

You cross your arms, and shy away. “...Lego.”

“Lego? How old are you five?” he teases.

“Well five year olds shouldn’t play with Lego cause it’s a choking hazard. And I told you it was dumb.” You feel the heat rise to your face.

“So…That’s it?” he raises a brow.

“What do you mean ‘so that’s it?’”

“I don’t know… thought you’d get yourself something nicer.”

“Those things are nice. It improves my quality of life.”

“Lego and Triple-ply is improving your life?“

“My ass appreciates it. The tripe-ply, not the Lego.”

He chuckles. A real laugh. It’s the first time you’ve heard it and it almost makes you freeze.

It’s deeper than you thought it might sound. Though you’ve never really thought about what his laugh might sound like. But seeing him smile, a genuine amused smile… your chest feels warm.

After a beat, you sit up. “You never said why you keep coming back here. Like why you really come here.”

He take a moment to think of an answer. “I don’t really know… maybe because I know I shouldn’t… and I know you’ll never turn me away.” He almost sounds ashamed, no, guilty.

It catches you off guard. To think a man like the Arkham Knight can feel guilty. Especially after watching the news recently. But, the more you think about it, he was quite considerate of you.

He’d always try to help clean up after you’d treat him, which you’d have to push him back to the couch if he had a particularly gnarly wound. He’s never forgotten to give you money after seeing you. Always enough to replace the medical supplies used plus at least a hundred dollars.

“So… what I’m hearing is that you like my company?”

“Yeah.” He can’t seem to look at you.

“You know… I’d rather see you without so many injuries.” You say quietly.

“But then I wouldn’t-“ he pauses before looking up at you. Those eyes. You see he tenses a little before trying to relax. “I wouldn’t be able to see you… if I wasn’t injured.”

His admission makes you soften. The Arkham Knight wasn’t one to be vulnerable with you, or anyone you figure. Even though you’ve seen him without the helmet a hundred times, he’s always worn an emotional mask, and he’s never told you his name. A sarcastic nonchalant barrier, which you weren’t sure was to protect you or him.

You take a breath. “You can come here when you’re not injured too.”

“…Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“I mean, why would you want me here? I’m not exactly good company.”

“You’re alright.”

“Just ‘alright’?” He feigns offense, but the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“I like your company.”

“Not just the Lego and the triple-ply?” He’s teasing you.

“I like those things, but… I think I’d be okay without them…” Your gaze wanders to the window. “Though, if you were to just never come back again… maybe I wouldn’t be okay with that.” You sigh, reflecting. “You’ve been coming around here for a while now… a year in a month. I think I’d be… quite sad if you decided to never come back. But I’d understand. I’m not the best medic out there. Sometimes I struggle with treating you… and I worry that what if there’s an injury too bad that I can’t treat here in my apartment? I really wish you’d be more careful, that I didn’t have to treat a wound every time you came by.”

You take a breath you’d hadn’t realised you’d been holding. “I’d hate it if… you died here… or if you died at all. I find myself watching the news more, so I know you’re okay. You probably think it’s stupid… some rando-person you barely know always so worried about you…”

Sometimes you say things you don’t mean to admit. But he’s always been a good listener.

It’s quiet, other than the hum of your fridge and cars passing by your apartment. Now you’ve done it, haven’t you? Said too much. Weirded him out. Annoyed him. Been too—

“You’re not some random person to me.” He places a hand on your knee.

You look back at him. Even he seems a little surprised by his gesture, but he decides to commit, scooting closer to you.

“I like your company too… I like a lot about you.” His eyes almost avert before he catches himself, staring deeply into your eyes.

Maybe his eyes are a little more blue than grey.

“I’d… never come here with something you couldn’t fix…I wouldn’t do that to you. And I don’t plan on dying here or anywhere else so you don’t gotta worry about that.”

You nod, falling silent.

He’s so close.

Your eyes lower to his lips before averting away. There’s no way you just thought about kissing him. That would be insane, right? But before you can even be embarrassed, he cups your jaw, turning your face to him and kisses you.

You freeze, not fully processing what’s happening. When you stiffen, it scares him and he pulls away.

He lets go of you in a panic, “Sorry- I thought-“

You stop him, taking his wrist, “Don’t- don’t stop…please.” You lean in close again.

Jason cups your jaw again before pressing his lips against yours. And it makes you think, maybe being his personal medic wasn’t so bad.

#💚anon #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #arkham knight x reader #request #one shot #jason todd x gn!reader

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flowersforthemachines · 2 days ago

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WIP WEDNESDAY

thank you so much to @pixiedurango @kindlyfeline @inquisimer and @hightowerqueen for tagging me <3

I talked about Ghilasara and Viago's post-canon [platonic] dynamic on this blog some time ago (here, here and here), and then got struck with inspiration to actually write about it.

This is set in the almost immediate aftermath of an attempt on Ghilasara's life and her coming to Viago for some... advice. [both Teiago and Rookanis are divorced at the time the fic is set. it's important]

wip tag: #wip: second opinion

“Do you ever sleep?” she asks as she walks inside Viago's office, skipping the greetings. “I always find you here. Do you just nap right in the chair in between paperwork?” “A talon’s work is never done.” I know more than one Talon who’d say that. He’s so engrossed in that work, he won’t lift his eyes to face her. “What brings you here?” They both know that, but she appreciates the straightforward question — with other people, she’d feel compelled to dance around the topic more. But never with Viago. She walks through the room and sits on the corner of his table. “Tell me: how long has it been since you saw a corpse?” “A few days.” He raises his head to look at her, finally. “I take it the counter on that is about to be reset?” “You are so quick on the uptake, Viago. That’s why we are…” She stops, unsure what term would be the best applied to them. ‘Friends’ would be pushing it. “Affiliated professionals?” “You are quite light-hearted for someone who almost got killed again.” “‘Almost?’” she scoffs. “Excuse me. Not even a scratch.”

Throwing tentative tags to @rookamell @thedissonantverses and @skullypettibone if you have anything to share this week 🌸

#wip: second opinion #look at my pookie being brave in the face of it all (dying on the inside)#oc: ghilasara thorne #viago de riva #flowers writes #flowers.txt

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loveesiren · 2 days ago

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Ooh i saw your message about you almost stopping requests for your follower milestone

So (hopefully just on time) can I get a blurp with Daesung with the prompts

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up.

Hope you have a great time writing and I look forward to the rest of the requests you received for this! <3

Thank you baby!! This one got kinda long lol I hope you enjoy!

Vali's 1500 Celebration (CLOSED)

warnings: brief mention of cheating, fluff

wc: 1.7k+

“He cheated again, Dae!” you sobbed into the phone, your voice breaking. “I can’t take it anymore! Why does he keep doing this? Why am I never enough?!”

Daesung’s chest tightened as he stood frozen in the middle of the studio, your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. God, he hated hearing you like this—broken, questioning your worth because of some selfish bastard who never appreciated you. His jaw clenched.

“You are enough, Y/n,” he said softly but firmly, his voice shaking with restrained emotion. “You’ve always been more than enough. He’s a fucking idiot. He never deserved you for a second.”

The rest of the boys had gone quiet, glancing at Daesung. Jiyong caught his eye and mouthed, What happened?

Daesung didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Not when he could still hear your cries—raw and fragile—on the other end of the line. He turned his back to the group, heart crumbling with every sob that reached his ears.

They knew. Everyone knew. Daesung had been in love with you since the day you walked into their lives, all sunshine and sarcasm and a laugh that made everything feel lighter. And now, hearing you in pieces? It lit something inside him.

“Y/n, listen to me,” he said gently, as if his voice alone could wrap around you and hold you together. “I’m coming over. Right now. You’re not alone, okay? I’ve got you.”

You sniffled, your breath catching. “O-okay…”

The call ended, but Daesung stared at his phone for a second longer, jaw tight, lips pressed into a line.

“Is she okay?” Taeyang asked quietly from across the room.

“No,” Daesung muttered. “But she will be.” His eyes darkened. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.”

He grabbed his hoodie and stormed out of the studio.

—

You dragged yourself off the couch when the knock came at the door, cheeks still damp, heart still aching. But when you opened it, the sight in front of you unraveled you all over again.

Daesung stood there, a little out of breath, his hoodie slightly askew. In one hand, a bouquet of blushing pink roses. In the other, a grocery bag overflowing with all your favorites—chocolate-covered pretzels, spicy chips, that ice cream you could never find at the convenience store.

“Dae…” you breathed, tears spilling faster now as you threw yourself into his arms without hesitation.

He caught you instantly, wrapping you up like he’d never let you go. His chin rested gently on your head, and you could feel his heartbeat thudding against your cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n…” he whispered, one hand cradling the back of your head as the other slowly stroked your back. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. You just clung to him, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his hoodie like he was the only thing tethering you to the ground.

He held you until your sobs softened into sniffles. Then he gently pulled back to look at you—your red, puffy eyes, tear-stained cheeks, messy hair—and his gaze only softened further.

“You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.

You gave him a weak smile. “You’re full of it.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe. But I’m right.”

You followed him inside, heart a little lighter, as he dropped the snacks on the coffee table and tugged you toward the couch.

“How about we rot on the couch all day? Ice cream, movies, and absolutely no talk of fuckboys.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be recording this week?”

He shrugged and pulled you down onto the cushions beside him. “It can wait. Right now, you need me more.”

Your heart melted at that.

Halfway through the first movie, you shifted closer to Daesung, letting your head rest against his chest as you slid an arm around his waist. His warmth instantly soothed something aching deep inside you.

Daesung froze for a second, caught completely off guard. His heart was thudding so violently it felt like it might leap out of his chest. But then, slowly, he relaxed into your touch, his arm wrapping around you in return. His fingers found the ends of your hair, gently twirling them as if memorizing the feel of you.

You smiled against him, the sound of his rapid heartbeat filling your ears. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Daesung liked you. Everyone around you could see it. But what no one knew—what he didn’t know—was that you liked him back. Maybe even loved him back. You were just too afraid. Too unsure. Afraid that you'd hurt him the way others had hurt you. Afraid that your broken pieces might cut him in the process.

“Your heart’s beating so fast right now…” you murmured, voice low, amused. “Why is that?” you asked as you tilted your chin up to look at him, your cheek brushing softly against his hoodie.

He chuckled, though the blush on his face betrayed him. “It’s not every day I get to cuddle with pretty girls,” he said, his tone light but his gaze anything but.

You smirked. “Smooth.”

He grinned, but the moment hung heavy in the air even as the movie played on. His heartbeat never calmed, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was racing through his mind. You didn’t know what came over you—maybe it was the comfort of his touch, or how safe he always made you feel—but your thoughts slipped out before you could stop them.

“Dae?”

“Yeah?” he answered, still absently running his fingers through your hair.

“You know you could do better than me, right? Like… way better.”

He stiffened slightly, and you sat up, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

“Why would you say something like that?” he asked, his brows knitting in confusion.

You hesitated. “Because you’re the best guy I’ve ever met. You’re patient, kind, thoughtful—you make people feel seen. And I… I’m just the girl with too much baggage and a history of dating assholes. I don’t know why you still put up with me.”

His expression darkened, but not with anger—just with pain. Pain that you couldn’t see what he saw.

“Y/n,” he said gently. “You’re not baggage. You’re my best friend. My favorite person in the whole damn world. And I don’t ‘put up’ with you. I choose you. Every day. Even when you don’t believe you deserve it.”

Your throat tightened at his words.

“Every man I’ve dated has treated me like I was disposable. Like I was never worth the effort,” you said, your voice wavering. “And you… you’re the first one who hasn’t. But that makes it even harder to believe I deserve it.”

He paused. You could tell he was weighing something—his hands stilled in your hair, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to memorize every piece of you.

“Maybe now’s not the right time,” he said slowly, “but if I wait any longer, I think I’ll regret it.”

You blinked. “Wait for what?”

“To show you,” he whispered. “Let me show you how someone like you is supposed to be loved. Gently. Honestly. Completely.”

His words hit you like a wave, catching you off guard, unraveling all the walls you’d tried so hard to keep up. Before your brain could catch up to your heart, you leaned forward and kissed him.

His lips were soft, hesitant for only a moment before he melted into you, his fingers tangling in your hair with the same tenderness he’d always shown you. It was sweet, slow, and filled with so much unspoken emotion that it nearly broke you.

When you finally pulled away, you looked into his eyes—glassy and awestruck, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed.

Your smile mirrored his as you climbed into his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, and kissed him again—this time a little deeper, a little more certain.

The rest of the afternoon passed in soft touches and stolen kisses. Nothing more. No need to rush. You were finally allowing yourselves to feel, to be, and that was more than enough.

For the first time, you weren’t thinking about who had broken you. You were just thinking about who was holding you together.

And it felt perfect.

By the time fell, the weight of the day had finally started to lift from your shoulders. Sleep tugged at your limbs, heavy and comforting, and your eyelids fluttered as you rested against Daesung’s chest, his steady heartbeat lulling you closer to unconsciousness.

“You ready for bed?” he whispered against your forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, barely lifting your eyes.

With careful ease, Daesung shifted. His arms slipped beneath you, lifting you up effortlessly as if you weighed nothing to him. He carried you to the bedroom without a word, the soft creak of the floorboards and the faint rustle of the blanket the only sounds in the room.

He lowered you onto the bed with the same gentleness he used when handling his most precious instruments, pulling the blanket over your body and smoothing it out like he’d done it a thousand times before.

“Goodnight, pretty girl,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness.

Your lashes fluttered as your lips parted. “Dae…”

“Yeah?” he asked, already starting to turn toward the door.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?”

He froze for a second, and then that familiar soft smile stretched across his face. “Of course.”

He peeled off his hoodie, tossing it gently aside, then climbed into bed beside you. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and the moment his arms wrapped around you, everything in your body seemed to exhale. You tucked yourself into his chest, your legs tangling with his as he pulled you closer, his hand resting warm and steady on your waist.

In his embrace, the world didn’t feel quite so heavy. It felt distant. Quiet. Safe.

“Promise me you’ll still be here when I wake up?” you asked, voice small and thick with sleep.

Daesung kissed your temple softly, lingering for a moment like he never wanted to pull away. “I’ll be right here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, sinking deeper into him. You fell asleep knowing someone would be there in the morning—with arms wide open and love already waiting.

#valis 1500 celebration #blurbs #kang daesung #kang daesung x reader #daesung x reader #daesung bigbang #bigbang fanfic #bigbang fandom

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anika-ann · 1 day ago

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Take the Ache - epilogue

Epilogue: The Love in Beloved

Type: series, slightly canon-divergent, idiots in love with sprinkles of angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 550

Series masterlist (and summary)

Warnings: implied smut, feels, fluff

A/N: written for Stella’s Starry Winter Sky challenge, using various prompts; DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; the title is, just like most chapter titles, taken from The Script’s No Good in Goodbye

A/N 2: No use of Y/N. Main character’s nickname made up by Steve is ‘Lo. Thank you for reading so far and enjoy 💕

This man – you’d swear, this goddamn man – was going to kill you.

Figuratively, but also a little bit literally.

Because you couldn’t be bothered to breathe.

His lips were moulding into yours so well, languid and eager at once as you almost struggled to keep up despite the fact you had been longing to kiss him for over a year now. The dream had only come true recently and you got to relive so many times it seemed it might lose it charm – but it would never. Steve kissed you like he needed you more than oxygen too, hand laid over your throat and the side of your neck, thumb tipping your head back just a little to kiss you deeper.

His hands were holding you like something precious – something he grasped at with tender care yet something he was gripping at as if he didn’t want to let go – his body pressed against yours as he trapped you against the fridge the moment he found you familiarising yourself with his kitchen, wearing nothing but his semi-buttoned shirt.

He still tasted of mint toothpaste, hair still dripping water since he had abandoned your semi-sleeping form to take a shower – or so you distantly remembered, a soft hoarse voice, a caress to your cheek, a brush of lips on your forehead – his body so wonderfully warm against yours as he had barbarically forgone a shirt post-shower and only wore sweatpants.

Bless him. What a wonderful pair you made – you in a shirt, him in sweats. Together fully clothed, and yet completely naked.

You had wanted to prepare breakfast, but Steve seemed much more interested in devouring you instead and you’d already forgotten what your intentions at the stove had been.

As your hands roamed his chiselled torso, humming with life, his heart thundering under your palm, you could not care less for oxygen, let alone for food. Steve looked and tasted good enough to eat – and he must have thought the same of you, because one of his hands moved under your bottom and gave you a little encouraging boost as you grinned against his demanding mouth, wrapped your legs around his waist and moved your hands to his broad shoulders for balance.

Steve smiled against your mouth too; a smile that tasted of sunshine and joy and love.

By the time he sat you on the counter, your mind was a haze; of sweet and passionate moments shared during your few dates and of last night; and of all that was him, anchoring you in this very moment.

Meeting the cerulean gleam of his eyes briefly as you, regretfully, came out for air, was like a shot of undiluted joy into your veins. He held you firmly in his arms, hand on your lower back pulling you flush to his front, his other hand on your nape and his smile was nothing short of radiant before he kissed you again.

He was going to be the death of you indeed; and you’d welcome it with open arms and lips parted in a breathless plea and the reverent sound of his name and he’d make you his as much as he was yours, over and over… and over.

Series masterlist

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Here we go - the very end, a teeny peek at the happiness they damn-well deserve 😌

Thank you for spending your time on the journey of this fic with me - and thank you for your lovely feedback 💕

There's some lull in my writing lately, so I'm not sure when and what the next thing will be - but I hope I shall see you there 🥰

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #take the ache #anika ann

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whoevenheckinknows · 3 days ago

Text

Escape (JayDickWeek 2025 Day 3)

AO3

Fandom: Batman All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Relationship: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Tags: jaydickweek2025, jaydickweek, jaydickweek day 3, alternate universe-soulmates, food mention, no eating but mentioned eating habits, pre-relationship, dick grayson needs a hug, jason todd needs a hug, no beta we die like jason todd, Do not post to other sites, POV Third Person, POV alternating

Summary: Jason and Dick both find comfort in the person on the end of their soulmate bond.

A/N: AU Info: When the younger of a soulmate bond turns 18, a connection is formed. What type of connection is different for everyone. Jason and Dick have a bond where what they write on their skin shows up on the other's skin.

Hope yall enjoy

Merfolk/Pirates AU | Soulmates | Childhood Crush

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

Location: Nanda Parbat (10 hrs ahead)

Jason watches the words slowly form on his arm as he lays on his cot.

Milk Cereal Protein bars Those snacks Timmy likes

He snorts quietly to himself at the meager shopping list. He picks up a pen he keeps nearby and uncaps it.

How many times do I gotta tell you? You need to eat more than cereal and protein bars, D.

J i wasnt expecting u awake rn! ur usually asleep

Is that why you decided to use your arm as a substitute grocery list?

i figured id be long done shopping by the time u get up

why r u awake, anyway? isnt it like 2 whereever u r?

I can't sleep.

do u need 2 talk?

Jason smiles softly at his arm.

Nah, I'm good.

just remember im here if u need me. wat r soulmates 4, after all

What else, indeed.

See, when Jason was a kid, the idea of soulmates fascinated him. He was a hopeless romantic after all, of course the idea that someone out there was meant to be his made him swoon. Then, Jason became Robin, and then he died, and for the first time in his life he had hoped he didn't have a soulmate. He didn't want to get an innocent civilian caught up in everything he was.

Of course, fate had a different idea, and so on Jason's 18th birthday he found himself with writing all over his arms. And ever since then, the man on the other side has become a life-line for Jason, one of the few things keeping him going as he trains and kills and plots revenge with the LOA.

In the year since the connection was formed, Jason has learned a decent amount about his soulmate. His name starts with D, and he's older than Jason given the fact that the connection formed as soon as Jason was of age. D is cheery and positive, although he does have a bit of a temper if some of his rants are anything to go by. He also is shit at taking care of himself. Jason almost wants to assume he's a college student with how shitty the man eats and sleeps. D has a younger brother named Timmy who lives in a different city with their father, as well as a deceased brother he misses dearly.

Jason wonders when he'll finally meet his soulmate. Maybe, after he returns to Gotham and enacts his revenge on Bruce, he'll travel around in hope of finding the man. Maybe he'll finally be able to settle down after he's avenged, and live the life he always wanted before everything went to shit. And hopefully his soulmate will be right beside him when he does.

~~~

Location: Blüdhaven, New Jersey (10 hrs behind)

just remember im here if u need me. wat r soulmates 4, after all

Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm gonna sleep now. I'll talk to you when I get up

gn! <3

There's a moment of hesitation before Dick receives a reply back.

Dick smiles fondly down at his arm. He probably looks like a fool, standing in the middle of the grocery isle grinning at his arm like a madman. But Dick doesn't care. Not when he's talking to his soulmate.

Dick almost gave up on having a soulmate when after five years he hadn't received any sight of a connection. And, well. Maybe it was for the better, he began to think. Dick lives a dangerous life. He's lost too many people because of it, and if Dick had a soulmate to lose he hadn't thought he'd be able to handle it. But then, seven years after Dick's eighteenth birthday, a connection finally formed.

Dick was having the worst day when it had happened. Of course he was, it was the day Jason would have turned eighteen. The boy had loved the idea of soulmates, had read all the classic stories about them. And his enthusiasm had been contagious, even if Dick had been waiting for his own at the time.

Dick didn't want to get out of bed that day. So he wasted away under the blankets instead. He thought about putting on a movie, but the only one coming to mind was one of Jason's favorites, and Dick couldn't bare the thought of watching it without the younger boy, even after all these years. And so he simply stayed curled up in a ball, fighting back the tears threatening to fall every five minutes.

Dick tried to distract himself by doodling on his arms with the pen on his nightstand. But even that soon took a depressing toll as his scribbles morphed into words. Words he wished he could say to the boy encompassing his thoughts.

my fault

sorry

i shouldve been there

i shouldve answered

fuck

im so sorry

Too busy wallowing in his self-hatred, Dick hadn't noticed a reply form on his arm at first.

Who is this?

When Dick finally noticed it, he froze. Realization crashed over him, and he couldn't stop the hysterical laughter escaping his throat. If anyone heard him, they probably would have thought he'd been hit with Joker gas.

Of all the days for a soulmate connection to form. Of all the days for his soulmate to turn eighteen.

ur soulmate apparently

There was a long pause, and Dick took the time to lean his head back and take deep breaths to calm his laughter.

Ok. Wasn't expecting this. No offense to you, but I had kinda been hoping I didn't have a soulmate.

Another wet laugh left Dick.

none taken ngl i had been hoping 4 the same

Well then, its a good thing if we're stuck with anyone it's each other.

Not that being stuck with you is a bad thing. I'm sure you're great.

ur fine lol im sure ur gr8 2

I change my mind. If you're gonna keep writing like that I'm going to regret ever being bonded with you.

Dick let out a more genuine laugh at that.

But, uh, real talk. Are you okay? That stuff you wrote before was kind of worrying.

yeah just a bad day my bro wouldve been 18 if he was alive

Shit. And me turning 18 today probably isn't helping.

actually i rly needed the distraction. i wouldve just cried in bed all day otherwise

Glad to be of assistance then. I'm J by the way.

hi J! im Dick

Dick's sadness was pushed to the back of his mind as he spent the next few hours talking and getting to know his new soulmate.

Dick's grown to like J in the year they've been talking. He's witty, with a dry humor that never fails to make Dick laugh. And he cares too. Always making sure Dick eats more than just cereal and protein bars. Which reminds him. Dick grabs some bread and lunch meat and puts them in his shopping cart as he continues making his way around the store. He adds them to the list on his arm, crossing them out so J knows he took his advice.

Milk Cereal Protein bars Those snacks Timmy likes Bread Lunch Meat (happy J?)

The check-mark Dick receives hours later sends a flutter through his chest.

~~~

Despite how crazy his life is, he's happy he has his soulmate. His escape. His reprieve from the loss and pain and hurt that follows him wherever he goes.

He can't wait till he finally meets him.

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

END NOTE: This fic is probably the most rushed of all my fics so far. I maaaay have procrastinated by making a plushy instead of working in this. But I really wanted to write for today's prompt because I am a sucker for soulmate AUs. I dont have any plans on continuing this, but if anyone else wants to, feel free. Just tag me so I can see!

My original idea for this prompt was much angstier. It was a "you only get your soulmate's name on you when your soulmate dies" au, where Dick makes it to Jason's funeral because he gets his name. (of course then jason comes back but shhhhh)

IDK if I'll have anything for tomorrow but I do for the day after. See you then.

If there's any errors, feel free to say in the comments. Or if you just want to talk.

Come talk to me elsewhere

AO3 Tumblr Twitter Bluesky

#jaydickweek #jaydickweek2025 #jaydick #dickjay

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catierambles · 14 hours ago

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Once in a Blue Moon Ch. 21

gotta a little choked up writing this one ngl

The others met up with them as they ran towards the sound, the smell of blood getting stronger. They all shifted back at a run when they saw her on the ground, curled in on herself, her side a gory mess.

“Sam!” Sy exclaimed as they went to her, kneeling around her.

“Bryan...” She whimpered, holding her hand to her side.

“Lemme see, baby.” Sy said, pulling her hand away gently to see the bullet wound that bled steadily.

“There’s an exit wound.” August said, feeling along her back, “Through and through.”

“Not enough blood for a vital hit.” Geralt said and looked over the wounds with a critical eye. “Non-fatal area, but we need to stop the bleeding.”

“Geralt, see if you can find the bullet.” August said. Their tones were stern, matter-of-fact, but inside they were a maelstrom of rage and fear, Geralt’s movements tight as he walked around the area.

“Found it.” Geralt said, “Tree strike. Fresh.” His fingers tightened as claws curled out from under his nails and he tore into the wood, digging out the bullet, but dropped it with a growl. “It’s silver. She was shot with silver.”

“This wasn’t a hunting accident.” Mike said, his voice wavering, brushing the tears from her cheeks, “Whoever did this knew what they were shooting at.”

“They’re long gone.” Sy said, “Not pickin’ up the scent anymore. Musta taken the shot and got outta dodge leavin’ her for dead. Baby, you need to shift. It’ll kickstart the healin’.”

“It burns.” She sobbed and he brushed her hair out of her face.

“I know, silver burns like fire, but you need to shift to slow the bleedin’ so we can get you back.”

“O-okay.” She said and they watched as she started to shift but reverted back with a pained yell. “I—I can’t, it—it hurts.”

“Fuck.” Sy said, “Baby, I am so sorry, but I gotta do this. I can’t have you bleed out out here.”

“Bryan...” August said, his tone warning.

“Can you think of any other fuckin’ way?” He asked, “She needs to shift and she can’t do it on her own!”

“Do it.” August said and Sy turned his attention back to her, a shiver moving through the area as he pushed out with his wolf, finding hers and pulling at it. A scream ripped it’s way up her throat as her bones moved under her skin.

“Stop!” Mike yelled, “It’s gonna kill her!”

“Sam, you can’t fight it.” Sy said, his face pulled in a pained expression and his voice breaking, “You gotta let it happen. Just let go and let it happen.” Another shiver and another scream tore it’s way up her throat before the shift happened far too quickly to be natural, leaving her whining and panting in front of them. “Sam?” He reached for her but stopped at the growl and snarl that pulled her lips away from her teeth, her eyes pained but full of fire. “Baby, I’m so sorry, but I had to do it.”

“Bryan.” Walter said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Head back to the cabin. We’ll take care of her.”

“Y-yeah.” He said and stood, shedding his skin and running off as pain tightened his chest.

He shifted the moment he got back, heading up to his room and almost collapsing into bed even though he desperately needed to shower. Sy was still in bed when he heard the others return, August giving out orders. There was a knock on his door before it pushed open slowly, Mike poking his head into the room, having put clothes on at some point.

“Hey.” He said and Sy hummed at him. “She shifted back on the return trip. The bleeding stopped. Helped that the bullet wasn’t in her.”

“She conscious?”

“In and out.” Mike said, “You had to do it, Bryan.”

“Did it have to be me though?” He asked, “Did it really? I ripped her wolf outta her, Mikey. Like pops used to do to us.”

“He did it if we breathed too loud. You did it to try to save her life, and you were as gentle as you could be with it.” Mike said, “I can’t do it, Walter can’t as far as I know, and August and Geralt are kinda sledgehammers. If they could, they may have been too heavy handed with it.”

“You said I was gonna kill her.”

“I was looking at my Mate that had been shot and was bleeding on the ground.” He said, “Wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. I didn’t mean it. I was scared I was going to lose her.”

“Where is she?”

“We got her cleaned up and August took her to the nearest hospital to get looked over.” Mike said, “They’re probably going to keep her there. The rest of us are going to join him, you should come too.” Sy nodded but didn’t say anything. “You’re not dad, Bryan.” With that, he left, closing the door behind him and Sy turned his face into his pillow, his eyes burning.

The house was empty when he finally pulled himself out of bed, bloody towels on the floor in the bathroom when he went to shower. Walter and August’s trucks were gone, Geralt’s bike and Samantha’s SUV still there, and he got behind the wheel of his own truck, pressing the start button and sitting there after the engine turned over. He knew she probably wouldn’t want to see him, remembering the rage and fear in her eyes after he made her shift, but he needed to see with his own two eyes that she was okay, not just find out from a text or a call from one of the others.

The drive was made in silence and he parked in visitor parking, sitting there for a long while after turning off the engine before gathering the nerve to get out, heading into the hospital and up to the desk.

“Uh, hey.” He said, the desk nurse looking up. “I’m looking for Samantha Graves. She was brought in maybe a couple hours ago?” The nurse didn’t say anything, typing on her computer.

“Relation to the patient?”

“She’s my Mate.” Sy said and the nurse looked up at him, confusion writ plain on her face.

“Your—?” Understanding. “Oh, I see. She’s out of surgery and in recovery. Second floor, room twelve.”

“Thank you.” He said, patting the desk slightly with a weak smile and headed for the elevator, taking it up to the second floor, a pit forming in his stomach. The others were probably there with her, but he’d look at her through a window or a doorway and then he’d leave before she noticed him. Heading down the hall, he saw Geralt sitting outside of a room, leaning against the wall, ever the protector. “How is she?”

“In pain.” Geralt said simply, not looking up at him. “Her system keeps burning through what they’re giving her.”

“Yeah, pain meds don’t do shit for us.” Sy said, “Docs find anythin’?”

“No serious internal damage.” Geralt said, “Bullet basically cauterized as it went through, keeping the internal bleeding to a minimum.”

“Small blessin’s.” He said and Geralt just grunted. “She awake?” He nodded. “The others in there with her?” Another nod. “Hospital woulda notified the police when she was brought in. Any come by yet?” He just shook his head. His hand laid on the door knob, the pit in his stomach growing.

“Just do it.” Geralt said simply and Sy paused for a moment before he pushed open the door, his eyes going to her on the bed. August was leaning against the wall, Walter sitting on one side of the bed with Mike sitting on the other.

“Hey.” She said when she saw him, giving him a weak smile.

“Baby, I’m—” His voice broke and he blinked hard.

“Come here.” She said, opening her arms for him and Mike moved aside as he went to her, almost collapsing into her embrace, sitting on the bed

“I’m so sorry.” He said, his voice choked, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry I did that to you. That I hurt you like that.”

“Walter explained it to me.” She said, “That some Alphas can pull at another's wolf to help them heal or to hurt them. You did it to help me heal, not to hurt me. I would have bled out before you guys got me to help if you hadn’t done it. You saved my life, Bryan.”

“I love you.” He said and he pulled away, her fingers wiping the damp from his face.

“I love you too.”

#captain syverson #walter marshall #august walker #hellraiser mike #geralt of rivia #once in a blue moon

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pineapplesoda · 1 day ago

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let’s examine aiden’s half a bit.

aiden has always had his autonomy taken from him. by the justice system, by society, by his peers- i imagine/my theory is when his wife died he fell into a deep nasty depression and someone related to ava had taken her illegally into custody for her own safety- obviously without his knowledge. then he’s arrested, (which, i also believe aiden has some diagnosed Scary Disorder, personal hc is bpd but aspd is also up there) (and probably was cited as a clause for him being unstable and killing ava) (but no diagnosis on his adhd an angel lost its wings he so has adhd) (and ALSO if he’s trans. You already know the nasty shit they’re saying abt him) and nobody will believe him. NOBODY believes him and he’s forced on medication, kept alone in a cell, has his body and mind tampered with. then the combine come along

they offer him freedom, tell him that his mental issues don’t effect his morality, he’s a good person despite what he’s done. as long as he’s an obedient good soldier.

we know what happens from there. he realizes they’re using him and when he attempts to do something about it he has his mind and body and overall autonomy violated again by people he sincerely thought he could trust

he helped wilson gain a sense of autonomy. wilson is quite literally an incomprehensible being now- as you said, a hyperobject. he helps aiden slowly claw back his own freedom. they save eachother. could almost say complete eachother. aiden is a man with machine parts stuffed inside him and tech constantly monitoring him and wilson is a man trapped in the code of whatever technology he’s haunting occupying. they make eachother more human. I could have a whole other rant abt possible post canon dynamics and slowly trying to act like people again but let’s save that for later maybe. if u ask ill happily tell some of my ideas though ;] wilson mark III hev gijinka..

now onto the trans aiden thing.

aiden’s intro monologue is also very reflective of many queer and neurodivergent experiences- his exact words;

They used to tell me, it wasn’t normal to be like me. They locked me up, medicated me, outcasted me. Because of the way i am, my family, my morality. People. Took. Everything.

now the average person could write that off as him ranting abt being treated weird for being crazy- which, yeah, by the time ez2 rolls around the combine has conditioned him so much and also let’s be real put him on so many drugs for performance he’s a big of a violent maniac. AS HE SHOULD BE. HONESTLY FOR WHAT HES BEEN THOUGH HE IS INCREDIBLY NORMAL. but what strikes me is the “my family” line. the people he mentions as most important to him are his grandma, his wife, and also bec (2810 idk if you know about entropy uprising BUT! bec isn’t actually from ez2 he’s from a whole other fan mod of ez1 and he’s really interesting u should look into uprising i could talk even longer abt bec and victor sixty) but we can ignore him for now

was he raised by his grandma? he doesn’t feel the need to mention his parents- estranged from them? maybe they don’t support him? maybe his wife was also trans and/or they were in an unconventional relationship? his family- hell, maybe ava is adopted or even if he did have her himself, people would consider that gross and unnatural and “harmful to a developing child” to be around odd dynamics. if you just probe a little bit he is REALLY representative of a lot of queer experiences and also disabled experiences. he’s so fascinating

anyways in short aiden and wilson are sort of fucked up soulmates and they’ll figure out a way to kiss abt it

yknow i think we need to talk more about Wilson in the true ending

how he starts out as this small and helpless thing trapped inside a defective non-mobile body despite being fully sentient, only to then become part of (and consequently become) something unfathomably large and powerful, something more than just a building, or just a compound, or just a control system. i could (and just might) argue that uploaded Wilson (and with him the Arbeit and Combine systems) approaches the definition of a hyperobject, or perhaps fits it to a t. but my point here is: all of that was possible because, back when he was small and powerless to enact any sort of agency over even his own existence, someone helped him. yes, meeting 36 was basically a coincidence, and yes, originally he took Wilson with him because he had no other choice, but what matters is that when he was given a choice to leave him (which would make his traversal infinitely easier), 36 took him along. and it matters so much that even when he had every reason to believe Wilson was gone, he still fulfilled the wish timidly shared with him hours prior. underneath the snappy remarks and the "shut up"s and the emotional constipation, 36 cared, and in the end, that was enough to save Wilson. so of course, when the roles are suddenly reversed, and now it's 36 who is powerless to escape the torture inflicted on him, Wilson comes to help with no hesitation. of course he does.

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pomefioredove · 4 months ago

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so yesterday I theorized that the fae in twst could be french, possibly breton inspiration, and was mercifully corrected by @tresgansosenunabrigo who actually knows things about french folklore unlike meee

we had a really good talk, which breathed life into a thought of mine about Briar Valley being parallel to ancient Irish mythology, that I had brushed off as insane months ago

some of the following is an old essay that I wrote, that I now find very very... um, incomplete at best, incorrect at worst. I've done my best to put out something more accurate, relevant, and interesting

but, for the sake of this essay: this is only for speculative purposes in the context of fiction. I am only drawing small parallels, and this is not a theory. I am not a teacher. I am not claiming to know everything. I'm just some guy who reads

a brief forward:

my credentials are "religious studies major" and not much else. I am not Irish, nor am I pagan, and my knowledge/study in Irish mythology is very secondary to Catholicism. I have been close to and spoken to a handful of experts within the field but am not one myself.

furthermore, I look to old/historical sources for knowledge, and reject eclectic and appropriative wiccan ideas. this has been a seven year long labor of love, but I'm still not perfect, and continue to sift through my sources every day. The misinformation that eclectics have created about Irish mythology have made way into books, into articles, into common belief, so it is, in fact very difficult not to internalize misinformation. I'm trying </3

and I am begging anyone in this field to correct any mistakes I make.

additionally I've only read a little bit of book 7 so I may be totally crazy. this is just a speculative piece, after all.

a glossary of knowledge:

for the purpose of this essay, I may use "fae" as an umbrella term, which includes pixies, medieval French fae, the aos sí, and the Tuatha de Danann*

*please note that the Tuatha de were gods in their original sources, but were changed to fairies, other supernatural beings, and occasionally kings in later Catholicized retellings.

I will be focusing most on ancient beliefs, with vague mentions of medieval/post-Catholicism ones. Catholicism is extremely important in the context of these stories, as it was the Catholic monks who preserved them in written form, and it's quite literally impossible not to mention. it's had a huge influence.

etc.

when talking about folklore, mythology, or religion, it's literally impossible to draw definite lines. it's why I hate when people say "well this religion stole this thing!" because religions intermingle, they share, they swap, they sometimes even meld with each other into something unique. ever-changing and different and the same. the Romans adopted their beliefs from the Greeks, and they shared gods with the Gauls, and then Christianity used the image of Jupiter as God. a big part of being a history major is understanding how to draw connections between cultures and peoples.

Admittedly, I am not familiar with the French idea of fae. I know that it is medieval. post-Christianity. it's a fairly loose term that denotes a "magical woman, skilled with words, herbs and stones" (via Wikipedia) and not much else. this is relevant to the Sleeping Beauty story, in which all the fairies are women. Maleficent's guards are not fairies, but ghouls (is that the right word?). I couldn't tell you the exact origin of French fairies, but it's not far-fetched to say they could have had "Celtic"* influence

*in reference to more than one culture in this context. scottish, manx, welsh, irish, etc

It is, perhaps, more important to add that French fairies are romantic figures in nature. very... fairy-tale esque. characters such as the fairy godmother and the good fairies in Perrault's version of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty are good examples of this.

TWST fae... are... a little different. obviously. while it may be easy to simply argue that "it's twisted, so they're darker" or "Briar Valley is based off Maleficent's domain so of course it's dark", it's implied (and shown!) that good entities come from Briar Valley, too. pixies exist in TWST, for example. then there are the good fairies from Sleeping Beauty, which have to exist alongside Maleficent in the canon of TWST. The fae here are layered, much more so than in their sources.

This is where I start seeing shit.

war, weapons, and invasion

When speculating on the influence of French folklore in Briar Valley, I was told that "war" is a rather uncommon thing in their stories. Invasion is, of course, an imperative theme in Briar Valley history, in Lilia's background, and in book 7 as a whole. So. I get thinking.

The war between the fae and the humans carries significant parallels to the war between the Tuatha de Danann and the humans in the Lebor Gabála Érenn, the Book of Invasions, wherein the "fae" and the humans warred over land and resources until the former were driven out of Ireland and the humans became the ancestors of the modern Irish. And by "parallels" I mean this exact thing happens. THE EXACT THING. The Book of Invasions was literally the first thing I thought about when in Lilia's dream.

War is, of course, a recurring theme in Irish mythology. Ná Morríghan is associated with war, there's that entire book of invasions, like, anything about Cú Chulainn, etc.

I also, very quickly, want to draw a comparison between Lilia's magearm and the four treasures of the Tuatha de Danann, which are described in literature such as the Lebor Gabála and Cath Maige Tuired (iirc). magical weaponry is a fairly common motif in various Celtic mythologies. in Irish mythology, it's the Spear of Lugh, and various swords, clubs, etc. The magearm just struck the same chord for me.

nature

I fear this is about to get very ~ohooo magical pagan connection to nature!~ please bear with me.

The mythology of Ireland is very, very, very tied to the land. You can still see this today, actually. Various natural formations- hills, islands, etc- have mythological names. Much like Olympus in Greek mythology, places mentioned in Irish mythological sources have real-world counterparts, such as Tech Duinn, the House of the Dead, being Bull Rock- a tiny island off the coast of Cork (cool post about that and the ancient Irish belief in death here). Trees had important religious, cultural, and linguistic (see: Ogham) connotations. Many of the Tuatha de had animalistic attributes and associations, such as Morríghan and crows. Even more were associated with fertility and agriculture, which was kind of a big deal. Symbols that which represent fertility, are rather common motifs (such as the Lia Fáil on the Hill of Tara, which I've read is theorized to be phallic).

That's not even mentioning the oceans, the cliffs, the forests, or the sidhe (a "fairy mounds", manmade or natural features that connect our world to the otherworld of Irish mythology).

At multiple points in Lilia's dream do we hear the fae talk about how important nature is to fae. I am unsure if this strong love for land is a theme in French folklore.

I also want to briefly point out that, in reputable sources, the "Celtic" day began at sunset. Darkness- night, winter, cold- were important to the ancient Irish, both in culture and in mythology. It's probable that their "New Year" began at Samhain (soh-wen), the holiday that celebrated the beginning of winter, to put it briefly. Here's a discussion post about this (and I sent this ask!!!!)

I just find the significance of darkness and night to hold some ground with the concept of "nocturnal fae" in TWST. "Night's blessing's", they say.

form

I also want to add, very quickly, that there are multiple different iterations of "fairies" in Irish mythology and folklore. The Tuatha de resemble humans. The modern aos sí are more mystical. The Fomorians (whom are or are not fairies, depending on who you ask?) are described as more animalistic and monstrous. The nature of fae in TWST is unclear, but they read, to me, as human-like with different abilities, different physical attributes, and a different connection to land and nature. Which is, in form, similar enough to the "fae" of Irish (and other Celtic) folklore.

Lilia

Head in hands. Shall we talk about the importance of the paternal figure in Irish mythology. I feel I have to.

I really really hate saying the word "fertility" so much because I start sounding like a Wiccan, I promise I'm going somewhere with this.

In the Nature segment, I briefly touched on the importance of fertility and the phallic symbol. I know that usually, when talking about ~fertility~ in reference to paganism, people are talking women/goddesses, but throughout my readings of Irish mythology, I've found that male fertility is just as important. More specifically, fatherhood. I, unfortunately, couldn't find much input on this, but I think it's safe to say that The Dagda, for example, is considered an important father figure and is associated with fatherhood.

It's just important.

Head in hands again. Now let's talk about fostering. Fosterage was, by most sources, a really big thing in ancient Ireland. Raising someone else's child, including that of your enemy, was not only acceptable, not only common, but traditional. And the themes of fosterage exist in the mythos, too- in Tóraigheacht Dhiarmada agus Ghráinne, the demi-god Diarmuid was fostered by Aengus Og. Aengus Og was also fostered. Fosterage is a theme in Cú Chulainn's story, so on and so forth. The gods/fae/etc foster humans, they foster demi-gods, they foster other gods.

I wanted to mention both of these as important themes in both Irish mythology and Lilia's story because like. come onnn lol.

And One More Thing!!!

This isn't super relevant to this essay, I just like to bring it up: Lilia is vampiric? Well, there's vampires in Irish folklore (or close enough, anyway. the link gives a few different versions of the story and their origins). Some think that Abhartach was actually the true inspiration behind Bram Stoker's Dracula. I don't know how much credibility this theory has, I've read a few essays on it. I just think this is fun.

Silver

Much of what I said in Lilia could be said here, too. All I really want to bring up is the symbolism of acorns. I've mentioned that certain trees had mythological connections, and the oak tree was. Um. A big one. It's a recurring theme, past, and present. Even the "Celtic Tree of Life" is an oak. I don't know, it's just important.

I could also draw some pretty stark comparisons between the story of Fionn mac Cumhaill, a heroic figure in Irish Mythology, and Silver, but that would be a bit much.

Sebek

Half-god and half-human heroes, fae, whatever etc are very much present and important in Irish mythology. That's all I can think of for now.

Malleus

I suppose I could, if I tried very hard, find something to say about Malleus, but this is where the ~medieval Europe~ starts to seep in. I am unaware of any dragons or dragonlike creatures in Irish, or other Celtic, myth.

Nobility is, however, a major theme in Irish mythology. There are many rules, there are laws, there are gods and goddesses of sovereignty, it's huge, and sort of parallels Diasomnia's structure, in a strange way. I'd need to know how their housewarden is chosen, lmao.

conclusion

Do I think the TWST writers have an intimate knowledge of ancient Irish mythology and are purposefully making allusions to drive me insane specifically? no. obviously not. is it possible that these myths have influenced the general idea of fae, and thus were included in the writing process unconsciously? yes. absolutely!

Ultimately, this is more of a thought exercise and an analysis than a theory. Take it as you will.

so on and so forth.

#writing this almost killed me. IT'S SO LONG

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lovesickeros · 10 months ago

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popping in randomly after almost an entire month just to talk non stop about the tsaritsa again everyone sit down.

specifically just thinking about the implications of tsaritsa's ideals originally being about love + the abandonment of those ideals to complete her goal of, presumably, destroying Celestia or whatever she's cooking up. to the point even her people don't love her and I probably don't even remember a time her ideals were of love. now it's all just ice and snow and cold.

which makes romantic fics w her even funnier because she's purposely removed this part of herself and suddenly reader walks into teyvat like they own the place (they do) and I can only imagine her reaction. angry, probably. because why you? what are you doing to her that's caused her hundreds of years of strict adherence to rejecting "love" both from others and to others to just. collapse. absolute shattering of her world and you probably don't even know it bc if nothing else she's good at hiding it. a lot of denial. tries to pick you apart and see what's makes you so different.

and oh she just hates it. she loathes it.

basically one sided enemies to lover trope because she can't stand you for a while but if you stick around she starts warming up to you and it makes it WORSE. so much worse. tries to distance herself but your just everywhere and it gets on her nerves because why does she love you? she isn't capable of love, not anymore. she thought she was.

g-d forbid one of the harbingers or PIERRO notices she'd never live it down. might even consider the implications of just killing you (she doesnt). worse if you know about it and act like a brat she will lose her damn mind

just the tsaritsa being an absolutely horrible mess internally.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #tsaritsa #i could also talk sbt furi here and how similar they r + how writing one of them influences my writing of the other #but anyway #ive been busy moving i havent had time to write unfortunately #but i do have time for tsaritsa! and furi. mwah #i just think its funny imagining tsaritsa trying to be polite snd cordial but ohh shes SEETHING. she hates you. she loves you.#she wants to kiss you snd kill you and devour you. a horrible mess of a woman who closed herself off snd suddenly she feels exposed #she hates it. wants to hate you but oh g-d you make her soft in the worst of ways. she'd destroy teyvat itself if you asked her to #shes like a cat you gotta work to earn her trust but oh lord when you do. velcroed to your side #she will say she despises you before kissing you so tenderly it makes you dizzy. between vitriol she brushes her knuckles against your cheek #longing and yearning so violently you will tear each other apart just to be closer.#is there anything so undoing as loving another so wholly it consumes you?#she swears she's indifferent but she pampers you and sends you extravagant gifts with no name attached yet it smells like her. you know.#oh to be in a horribly complicated relationship thats almost one sided enemies to lovers w the tsaritsa that consumes you both #like two stars wanting to be closer and yet..in doing so you undo each other when you inevitably collide. caught in an orbit that dooms both #this has been ur monthly tsaritsa ranting ur welcome and goodnight 🫡#when i say im crazy sbt the tsaritsa i am so serious. i AM her number 1 fan source me

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broareweabouttoviberightnow · 3 months ago

Note

Hello, your neighborhood Darry Curtis angst truther here. I would love to see what kind of Darry angst your magical brain can cook up, but I am partial to a sickfic. I can’t wait to read what you come up with!

oh I LOVE this!! Sick darry rots in my brain NON stop LOVE LOVE this ask!! fic under the cut!! TYSM FOR THE ASK!!

cw!! vomiting (nothing graphic!!)

Darry didn't get sick. He just didn't. He would defy the laws of nature and manage to avoid it in the middle of January takin' care of both Pony 'n Soda who'd managed to get strep and flu respectfully. He'd dodge it when Two took up a permanent residence in his bed with the stomach bug for a week. He'd come out without a scratch when both Dallas 'n Steve had the common cold 'n acted like they were goin' to have to be put down come dawn.

Pony 'n Soda claimed that Darry managed to stay healthy as a horse all year long on pure stubbornness. Darry had told them that if that was the case, Pony would never have caught so much as a cough.

Yes, Darry Curtis had a track record to uphold. A record he was currently watchin' slip straight through his fingers.

"G'mornin' Dar," Soda's already in the kitchen when Darry walks in, a bad sign. Darry can't remember the last time Soda had gotten ready before anyone. The second he claps his eyes on Darry his brows knit in concern. "You ok?"

"'Mornin', honey. I'm fine." He has to be. He ruffles Soda's hair 'n tries to walk past him, he can hear the sound of an egg burnin' on the pan 'n he's really not in the mood to have to scrape it off. The smell makes his stomach do a sudden, violent lurch. Soda easily blocks him, noddin' for Dallas, who leans over 'n takes the pan off from where he's sittin' in the window sill. "C'mon, kid."

"Somethin's wrong." Soda reaches up to put his palm on Darry's forehead 'n Darry easily bats him away.

"I just slept bad, I'm fine." To be fair, that was the truth. Or at least partly. Dallas had rolled in past three in the mornin' from a shift with the ponys at Buck's 'n climbed straight into Darry's bed, wreakin' like a stable 'n twice as cold. When he had tried to kick the kid out he had fought, literally, tooth 'n nail. Somethin' about Soda not bein' warm 'n Pony not sharin' the blanket. Never you mind it was the spittin' middle of summer. Darry had conceded, if only for the chance to go back to bed. The culprit glanced over his shoulder 'n grinned 'n Darry narrowed his eyes at him.

"Well... alright." Soda reluctantly moves out of the way 'n Darry squeezes his shoulder, grabbin' a piece of dry toast from the counter 'n movin' to put his shoes on. "Are you 'n Steve walkin' to the DX or d'you need a ride?" Steve 'n Soda's love child of a beater had recently done the only thing it did well, stop workin'. Again. Steve swore this time it was just the muffler. Easy fix. Last time he'd said that their car had sat on Darry's lawn for a week.

"We'll walk- wait you gotta have some breakfast." Soda stubbornly moves to cut him off again 'n Darry chuckles fondly, easily manhandlin' him out of the way.

"I'm gonna be late kiddo." He holds the toast in his mouth 'n steps into his work boots. "Hey, one of you make sure Pony gets up before you leave or else I swear he'll sleep all day." Darry shoves aside the feelin' in his gut, half premonition, half sickness.

"I'll get him up later." Dallas climbs off the counter 'n both him 'n Soda share a look. "You sure you're good, man?"

"Glory, you two really know how to make a man feel better." Darry rolls his eyes but gives them both a grin. "I'll be fine. Now, I'll be 'round to pick up you 'n Steve after work, 'n Dally, you're on dishes." Dallas scowled but didn't complain which wasn't much of a comfort. Darry must look bad if Dallas wouldn't kick up a fuss.

He was fine. He'd be fine.

God knows what they would do it he wasn't.

...

Darry was home by noon. Apparently, they don't take kindly to you vomitin' up breakfast at the construction site. He'd begged to be able to stay but his boss had stood firm on it. He was a real good man, had worked with his father, 'n had offered him the afternoon paid time off.

He'd barely gotten home. It was like all at once his body had just decided to quit workin'. His legs fell like jelly as he climbs out of the truck, white knucklin' the railin' to get up the steps.

"Pone?" He calls when the door swings open 'n is greeted with nothin' but the vague smell of burnt eggs. He instantly ducks into the kitchen 'n brings up bile. Well. Shit.

He reaches over 'n slides the window open, hopin' to circulate some air into the house. Only the sticky, tempid dry heat of Tusla summers trails through the screen. Darry sinks down to the basin, restin' his hot forehead against the cold metal.

Alright. Up. The house is, mercifully, empty 'n Darry makes quick work of shruggin' off his shoes, shirt, 'n work belt. He trudges down the hall 'n ducks into the relative darkness of his room. He's asleep before he realizes it, passed out on the bed with his Levi's still on.

...

"Darry?" Darry wakes up with a migraine, head swimmin'. Soda's voice calls from somewhere in the house 'n it's got a shrill high note of panic in it. Darry glances to the end table 'n has to shake his head three times before he processes the time. Six in the afternoon. Shit.

Darry sits up too fast 'n the world spins around him. No. No no no. He couldn't do this. The door to his bedroom bangs open 'n Soda appears in the doorway, face flushed, hair stickin' in every direction. Steve hovers behind him lookin' just as stricken.

"Oh, fuck. Dar you don't look good." Soda sits down on the bed 'n pushes Darry's hair off his sweaty forehead in a way oddly reminiscent of how Darry often did to him. He tries to grin, sits up a little taller, shakes Soda off 'n doesn't even grimace when just that makes his head damn near split. Soda doesn't fall for it one bit. "Darry you lay back down. Steve go get some soup from the cabinet, I know you haven't eaten anythin'." Soda shoots him a determined look 'n nods to himself when Darry doesn't protest. Steve spares him one more worried frown 'n disappears back down the hall.

"I'm fine Soda." Which is just about the biggest lie he's ever told.

"No, you're not." Soda leans over 'n presses on Darry's shoulder to make him lie down. He pretends it doesn't scare him how little force it takes. "You would never have forgotten to pick up me 'n Steve if somethin' wasn't wrong. 'N you definitely wouldn't be home early. Now, hush." Darry glances at him guiltily but now that he's layin' back down he can barely hold his eyes open.

"'M sorry, kiddo." Soda squeezes his shoulder 'n drops a kiss to his hot forehead.

"It's alright, Dar. Let me take care of you for once." And he thinks he says somethin' but, truthfully, he's asleep before he can be sure.

...

The next time he wakes up the sun is low outside his window, the shadows stretchin' long across the floor. He feels worse. Somehow. His body aches like he's been hit by a truck. His throat is sore 'n raw 'n he can feel the barely stagnant nausea in his stomach. When he turns his head the migraine flares to life along the edges of his vision.

"Darry?" Darry squeezes his eyes shut, the low voice soundin' like a gunshot in the silence. He blinks blearily, lifts his head 'n searches for the voice's owner.

"Pone?" The armchair from the living room has been drug into the corner of his bedroom 'n Pony is curled up in it. Darry can hear the sounds of Soda, Steve, 'n Dallas all in the kitchen down the hall 'n he grimaces.

"Yeah, Darry it's me." Shit. Pony shouldn't be in here. He can't afford the kid gettin' sick. Or seein' him like this. He's not supposed to be fallible. Glory, he doesn't have it in him to look strong right now. So he's gotta get the kid out.

"Your brother know you're in here?" Pony worries his lip between his teeth.

"No, he didn't want me to bug you but... I didn't want you to be alone." Glory, the kid could be a thorn in his side sometimes. But then he'd turn around 'n say somethin' like that 'n Darry really didn't know what he'd done in his life to end up with such good kid brothers.

"C'mere, Ponybaby." Darry shifts over, bites back on his wince, 'n Pony immediately curls up in the crook of his arm. Darry strokes his hair gently 'n Pony clutches Darry's side like if he can't hold on to him he'll vanish. The heat of Pony's body is nearly unbearable against Darry's fever-ridden sickness but Darry'll be damned if he's not gonna give his kid brother whatever comfort he can right now.

Darry's just startin' to drift again when the door eases open, the light from the hall nearly makin' him wretch. Soda slips in 'n eases the door shut behind him, a bowl of soup steamin' in his hands. The smell makes Darry's stomach churn.

"Ponyboy Curtis, didn't I tell you to let Darry sleep?" But he doesn't sound mad at all.

"C'mon Soda," Pony tucks himself tighter into the crook of Darry's elbow 'n Darry squeezes Pony reassuringly.

"Pony, mind your brother. I'll be fine." He gives Pony a gentle shove 'n Pony slides reluctantly off the bed 'n to Soda's side. Soda drops a kiss to his head 'n Pony slips out into the hall with a single worried glance back.

"How ya feelin', Dar?" Soda plops down on the bed, settin' the soup down on the end table 'n handin' Darry a glass of water.

"I'm-"

"If you say fine I'm gonna call you a liar." Soda wags a finger 'n Darry scoffs, flinches.

"I've had better days." Darry takes a small sip of the water, it feels like acid down his dry throat.

"You don't say?" Soda chuckles under his breath 'n takes the glass back, swappin' it with the soup 'n fixin' him with a look when he grimaces. "You gotta try to eat somethin', Dar."

Darry holds the bowl in his lap 'n takes a long steadin' breath. He doesn't want to. Honest. But he's spent too many mornin', noon, 'n nights fightin' with sick kids to know better than to refuse. He wasn't gonna make this any more stressful on Soda than it already was. "You know, Pepsi, you're pretty damn good at this older brother thing."

Soda folds his legs up crisis-cross under him 'n smiles ruefully. "I'll be happier when I can hand the position back over."

Darry chuckles 'n reaches out ruffles his hair. "Sorry, kiddo."

"For what? If you're apologizin' for gettin' sick I'm gonna make you eat the casserole I made for dinner instead of Steve's Campbell." Soda shoots him a stern glare he can't quite hold.

"Apologizin'? Who's apologizin'? I was feelin' sorry for myself." Soda howls his laugh 'n Darry has missed hearin' it so bad he manages to completely ignore the way his migraine fuzzes around his temples.

"Alright, mister, no more stallin'. Eat." Darry manages two bites in ten minutes. Then he vomits both it 'n the water back up.

"Dar..." Soda rubs his back 'n Darry bites his lip hard. He wants to bawl. He won't do that to Soda. "I think we're gonna hafta call a doc."

"Look, give me another day. I'm not gonna drain our entire fund for some stupid cold, ok? I'll be alright. Give me another day." He somehow finds it in him to sound more assured then he feels.

"Oook." Soda doesn't look confident at all as he takes the bowl off the end of the bed, most of the can still remainin'. "But, Dar?" He pauses until Darry looks back up at him.

"What is it, Pepsi?"

"We'd make it happen. It ain't a drain if it means we can fix you up."

"Alright, kiddo." 'N they both know he doesn't believe it. "Now get your ass outta here before you get sick too."

Soda offers only a wobbly version of his usual grin as he pulls the door back open. "Hey now, I ain't ready to hand over that in charge title yet, young man."

...

"Darry? Darry, c'mon man." Darry wakes to rough hands shakin' him 'n immediately knows it's not Pony or Soda.

"Dar, you're scarin' me, c'mon." The second Darry opens his eyes the hands drop him. Dallas sits back, eyes wild, hair fallin' in his face, hands clenchin' 'n unclenchin' on his knees.

Darry blinks hard, realizes three things at the same time. His heart is beatin' so hard he can hear the blood as it rushes in his ears. There's a name on his lips. Somethin' startin' with an M he knows before he has to ask. His throat is sore, 'n not from all the hackin' he's been doin'. The kind you get from screamin'.

He opens his mouth to answer 'n immediately brings up the contents of his stomach into the bucket Soda had left when he brought dinner. Dallas flies to his side, bony hand restin' on Darry's back. "Shit, Darry."

Darry squeezes his eyes shut, groans. The second he stops feelin' like heavin' around nothin' he sits back 'n refocuses on Dallas. "Shit, kid. I'm sorry. Are you ok?"

"Am I? Dar, I was worried about you, man. I'm fine." But he's still got a flash in his eyes Darry knows, the restless way his spins his ring around his finger. He opens one arm 'n Dallas hesitates before slidin' over 'n droppin' his head down to Darry's shoulder.

"Was I havin'... a nightmare?" He doesn't need to ask. He knows. They run in the family. Darry was just better at keepin' 'em locked down.

"Yeah, man. You were, uh, callin' for Mrs. C." He had figured. He lets out a long breath 'n rests his head down on Dallas', their temples together.

"You sure you're alright, kid?" Dallas presses his elbow against Darry's ribs 'n Darry does them both a favor 'n pulls him flush against his side.

"Yeah, man, I'm sure." They're quiet for a few moments. They don't need to say anythin'. "I'm glad Soda's asleep. Pony wanted to sleep in here but I told him no way, man, that kid's annoyin' when he's not sick."

Darry chuckles 'n lays back down. Dallas flips around a few times before settlin'. He's got the minimum amount of contact with space to have none. Darry lets out a huff of a laugh. He gets the touch thing from Pony, no contest.

"Thanks for wakin' me up, kid."

"Yeah, well, don't mention it. You were thrashin' around 'n takin' up my whole side of the bed 'n shit so I kinda had to." Darry laughs again 'n doesn't mention Dallas' doin' what he does best: pretendin' everythin' is ok. His migraine flares so bad he feels like his skull might just crack in half to remind him that's not the case.

"Dal, I don't want you catchin' this. Why don't you go elbow over Soda tonight?" When he twists to look at Darry he's got that look in his ice-chip eyes that tell Darry arguin' is pointless. He may not have gotten his stubbornness from the Curtis' but he damn well fit right in.

"Don't mention it."

...

Darry has his feet on the floor before he can fully process anythin'. He blinks his eyes, rubs at them blearily. Lets out a sigh when his stomach turns over. He's gettin' real sick of the wakin' up 'n driftin' off thing. Mostly 'cause every time he was up he expects to feel better 'n that is never the case.

He glances at the clock at his bedside. A little before six. Like clockwork. Darry never needed to set alarms. He just woke up when he was meant to. Pony had complained about that for years. 'N Darry, in turn, had complained about his obnoxious alarm clocks.

It takes a moment for him to realize he's suddenly ravenous. He's so goddamn relieved he could cry.

Dallas is gone but that's to be expected. Dallas was an oddly early riser. He would go to sleep at two 'n still wake up before Darry. Darry creeps into the kitchen 'n finds Dallas where he always is, curled up in the window sill. He also finds Soda, awake again.

"Hey lil' buddy, what are you doin' awake?" Soda whips around, still half asleep. He looks so soothed for a moment, the stress fallin' out of his shoulders. Then he gets a good look at Darry.

"What are you doin' out of bed?" Soda shrugs his DX shirt around on his shoulders, takes the coffee Dallas offers him.

"I've gotta go to work, kiddo. I'm feelin' better." Darry grins, holds his head stiffly 'n walks around the side of the table. Dallas jumps off the counter 'n, between the two of them, manage corner him.

"Nuh uh, no siree. I let you go to work yesterday 'n look where that got you." Darry sighs, lets Soda manhandle him down into a chair like just standin' too much could make him keel over 'n die. Darry won't admit he might be right.

"Soda, I love you. We can't afford this." Soda shoots Dallas a look Darry can't read. And that unsettles him.

"Don't worry, Dar. We got it covered. Plus, Soda already called you in sick so it's too late now." Dallas turns around 'n slides an egg that is somehow both over 'n underdone across the table. So Soda cooked. Darry snakes a hand out 'n snatches both of their wrists. Dallas jumps a lil' but neither look particularly surprised.

"This 'Got it covered' shit legal?" He fixes them both with the sternest look he can manage. His appetite is slippin' away from him again 'n he hates to admit it but Soda's probably right. Another look between the two of them 'n Darry gives them a shake.

"Look, Dar. Don't worry about it." Darry lets out an exasperated sigh 'n Dallas rolls his eyes. "Yes, it's legal. Soda 'n I are just pickin' up extra shifts, ok? Glory, you wouldn't let God have his second comin' without callin' you first."

Darry lets out a sigh of relief 'n chuckles. "Since when did you get religious, Dallas Winston?"

"Since the Devil thought it'd be funny to dump me in the middle of Tusla, Oklahoma with you bunch." Dallas scuffs his foot on the tile 'n Darry's laughs become a hackin' cough. Soda 'n Dallas glance at each other again.

"Look, you two, I appreciate it. But I'm not gonna make you work extra to pick up my slack. I'll just call back. I can go in." Soda sighs 'n sinks down into the chair across from his brother.

"Darry, just let us do this, alright?" He fiddles with his shirt, the mug, a curl of his bangs. "You do enough, Dar. Let us just do this."

No, he thinks, I never do enough.

Darry looks his kid brothers over again. Feels that familiar kick that he will never deserve this. "Fine." He swallows bile as it rises up his throat. "Fine. I'll stay home."

"And you won't do any housework- or anythin' Pony wants." Soda bounces back instantly waggin' his finger 'n grinnin', but that's how Soda's always been. "I better come back to this house a disaster!"

"Yessir." Darry throws his hands up, hesitantly tries for the eggs again.

"Steve's comin' in after school so if you need anythin' call Two, OK?" Darry nods again 'n Soda grins 'n pours him a glass of water.

"I'm gonna let Pony know we're headed out." Dallas disappears down the hall 'n Darry can hear him pokin' at the kid 'n when that doesn't work, drag the kid out of bed. In the literal fashion.

"OW!"

"Are the eggs ok? I cooked 'em." Darry goes for the least runny bite he can get.

"Great, kiddo. Thank you." He snaps Soda up 'n drops a kiss to his messy hair.

"-'n if I hear about you bein' a brat I swear to God-"

"Pony'll be stayin' here. I tried to get him to go but..." Soda trails off 'n they both hear the distinctive sound of two bodies hittin' the floor.

"I don't want him here on my account. He's not skippin' school if he ain't sick." Darry swallows his bite 'n bile crawls up his throat immediately. Soda watches him carefully.

"Well, if you wanna fight with the kid I won't get in you're way. But, uh, well you know how Pony is." He did. His migraine burns along the back of his head. Please Pony, he feels a little guilty but it doesn't stop him from thinkin', don't be yourself.

Dallas 'n Pony appear in the kitchen again, both tousel-headed 'n scowlin'. The second Pony lays eyes on Darry, however, he lets out a soft little noise of relief 'n throws himself into Darry's arms.

"Hey, kid." Darry runs a hand through his hair 'n pulls him into his lap.

"Dar, you're ok." He tucks his head under Darry's chin 'n Darry smiles. Maybe he should get sick more often.

"Well, don't be too happy. I'm gonna tell you somethin' you're not gonna like 'n I'm not fightin' on it." Pont leans back, furrows his brows.

"Ok?"

"You're goin' to school today. I'm not gonna have you skippin' for my sake. I'll be fine alone, Pone." Pony's face scrunches up into a scowl again.

"But-" Dallas clears his throat 'n Pony snaps his mouth shut. "Fine." He clambers away from Darry 'n back out into the hall, not quite managin' to avoid the whack to the back of the head Dallas sends him with a smirk.

"Glory, you 'n Soda run a tight ship, huh?" Dallas grins, shrugs on his jacket.

"Well, can't have the kid turnin' into a knucklehead 'cause you have to call out of havin' a stick up your ass for one day." Pony 'n Darry let out twin noises of indignation, Pony's comin' from somewhere around the corner. Soda 'n Dallas both howl.

"Watch it, you two. Once I get better I'm gonna have to beat your fool heads in." Darry rests his head on his hand, proppin' his elbow on the table. Glory, why did bein' sick make him so damn tired?

"Have to catch us first!" Soda splits into a toothy smile 'n slips out the screen door, snappin' the keys off the counter. "Don't you dare do nothin'- remember!"

"C'mon Pony! Leave now or walk!" Dallas shouts into the hall 'n Pony comes flyin' back out with his bag. He only stops long enough for Darry to press a kiss to his temple. Dallas kicks him in the ass 'n Pony turns back around to sock him in the ribs.

"Get better, Dar!"

"Yeah, 'n call Buck's if you need me." Darry rolls his eyes 'n follows them to the door, shuttin' it behind them.

"Somehow I'll manage. Glory, y'all have become frettin' hens!" Soda cracks up, squawks 'n flaps his hands. Pony shakes his head but can't hide his grin. "Love y'all."

"Love ya, Dar!"

"Yeah, man."

"Get better, Darry!"

The truck pulls out of the drive too fast 'n zips down the street. The second it vanishes around the corner exhaustion hits Darry again. He ducks back inside 'n is in bed before the sound of Soda gunnin' the engine is too far to hear.

...

The smell of dinner wakes Darry up. When his stomach flips it has nothin' to do with sickness. God, it smells good.

He kicks the blanket off 'n almost cries when he isn't swelterin' or shiverin'. When he gets to his feet his head doesn't swim. Glory, it doesn't even hurt. Heavensake, he'd forgotten how good it felt to not have a headache.

He eases the door open 'n the sound of an Elvis record they've nearly burned through skips on the player. It scratches 'n Darry can hear Steve 'n Dallas goin' back 'n forth over the new Hollies single or the Yard Birds. Dallas wins out 'n The Hollies drifts down the hall.

Darry pokes his head into the kitchen 'n Soda stops jabbin' at Two who was fixin' somethin' at the stove. He takes Darry in from head to toe 'n then grins wide. He looks exhausted but also younger than he has since the moment he came home to Darry 'n his bug.

Pony glances up from where he's workin' at his math homework 'n splits into a big smile.

"Dar!" He shoots out of his chair so fast he nearly knocks it over. Dallas 'n Steve duck into the kitchen from the living room both lookin' suddenly, jarringly relieved. Pony throws his arms around Darry 'n Darry pulls Soda into the hug.

"You feelin' better, Superman?" The smell of gasoline clings to both Steve 'n Soda. Horses to Dallas'. Pony's homework it half done. No one coercin' him. The meal Two's pullin' out of the oven had taken at least an hour of prep work. Darry knows from experience. 'N they're all lookin' at him.

"Yeah, you know? I am."

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