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irmawrites · 4 months ago

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Sleeping with the enemy | One-Shot

Summary: your father, Gwayne Hightower, had always told you to beware of Davos Blackwood, son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters. But when you meet him at a party years after graduating college, you can't help but think he's not so bad after all.

Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.

Pairing: modern!Davos Blackwood x Hightower!Reader (appearance isn’t specified, everyone is 18+ in this)

TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, praising kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.

Words count: 4393

Author’s note: Hi, everyone! This is my first time posting here, and I have to admit I'm a bit intimidated ahaha like a lot of people, I fell in love with Davos Blackwood's in episode three and ABSOLUTELY had to write this idea that's been on my mind for a while now.

I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!

Davos Blackwood had a bad reputation in your neighborhood, that much was true.

The rumors about him had started when you were still in college, something about red liquid smeared on the mirror in the boys' bathroom. A silly prank involving fake blood and strange theatrics to scare off a younger classmate that had perhaps gone too far. It was your own cousin Aemond who had found the fake crime scene just after the culprit had left, still licking his red-stained fingers. It caused quite a stir at the time, and he hadn't been seen on campus for at least two weeks. It may have been fake blood or just a tasteless joke, it was still inevitable that action would have to be taken.

It was Aeron Bracken in particular who had helped make these bizarre stories popular. He told anyone who would listen that Davos Blackwood was a deranged, violent madman. It was no secret that the two young men didn't get along. But no one expected things to get as bad as they did. There had been rumors in the hallways and whispers in the cafeteria, but that wasn't all. His car had been vandalized and marked with insults on several occasions. Even Gwayne Hightower, your father, had warned you.

A real witch hunt.

As far as you knew, however, the main target had remained unaffected by the situation, even toying with those who provoked him. In a way, he almost seemed to enjoy the wild, mysterious aura that all this fuss gave him.

You, for one, had never really believed it. After all, he didn't look like a bad guy, with his big, green eyes and permanently disheveled black hair. He seemed a little strange to you, a little off, but not enough to be considered a clear danger. But your opinion didn't matter much.

Nothing had ever destined the two of you to spend time together. His parents' company only did business with Rhaenyra's, refusing any ties and especially any agreements with the Hightowers. His father seemed to harbor a fierce hatred and boundless distrust of your family, apparently fearing that Otto's overweening ambition would lead him to overturn the order of succession established by Viserys himself and install his own grandson as sole ruler of the company.

And in your world, your parents had a bit more say in who you dated than they did for other people. You couldn't just go out with a guy because he seemed interesting, especially if he was the son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters.

So you'd never spoken to each other in college, let alone at the lavish charity galas your family hosted.

Never, until that day.

"You like Iron Maiden?" a hoarse, unfamiliar voice said from behind you as you wrung the water out of your hair, "or is that your boyfriend's shirt?". The sun was high in the sky and you could feel the heat of its rays burning your exposed neck. The clear waters of the Targaryen family pool sparkled, and the garden echoed with the bursts of voices of those Aegon had invited to what should have been a casual gathering of the younger generation with ties to the Targaryen business.

You didn't think he'd invite Davos Blackwood, though.

"It's mine," you replied, giving the young man a mischievous smile, your fingers playing absentmindedly with the string that held the bottom of your swimsuit to your hip, "and yeah, it's one of my favorite bands actually." He seemed to take a moment to assess the situation, his eyes roaming up and down your body, an unreadable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Never pegged you as a little rebel," he crossed his arms over his chest before continuing, "more of a model daughter." You knew he was toying with you, trying to tease you, but you were more than happy to play along.

Besides, you understood where the thought came from, you who were usually more used to short skirts and high heels than band shirts.

Mentally, you thanked Aegon for thinking of him. "Be careful, Blackwood," your voice sounded like a playful threat, "you might be surprised."

You were about to leave to return to the deck chairs, but it seemed that Davos wasn't quite finished with the conversation. "Wait," he ordered, taking your wrist between his broad fingers. Mechanically, you glanced around to make sure no one was watching. After all, the last thing you wanted was for someone to spy on your conversation with someone who still belonged to your grandfather's enemy side. "What is it?" it was your turn to cross your arms over your chest, your eyebrows furrowing as you waited for some kind of justification from him. It was clear he had something on his mind, but you just couldn't figure out what. "Do you want to come over to my place sometime?" he finally said, and you felt your breath catch somewhere between your throat and your lungs. "Why?" the question crossed your lips before you could even think about it.

You didn't know each other, had never spoken before, not to mention the fact that your families didn't approve of each other. You were tempted to agree, of course, because whether you liked it or not, you felt this kind of almost magnetic attraction pulling you together.

You'd have liked to think it was fate, but you knew it was just your love of danger and the forbidden.

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts again. "You seem like a pretty nice girl, and we obviously have the same taste in music," he replied, finally loosening his grip on your wrist, "we could watch a movie, get to know each other, something like that." The offer was tempting, the prospect of spending a little more time with him appealing, but even though you desperately wanted to say yes, you knew you couldn't. You had to be reasonable and listen to that little voice in your head that told you it all sounded like a terrible idea. But he seemed to sense your reluctance because he quickly added, "Don't worry, no one will know."

***

Davos’ room wasn't exactly what you'd call tidy. You noticed a half-full ashtray on the windowsill and a few empty cans on his desk. It was the opposite of your own bedroom, neatly decorated and perfectly organized. Your wardrobe drawers were a bit of an exception, but that didn't really matter.

Even so, you couldn't help but find it a little charming. The smell of his cologne in the air, the half-unraveled sheets, this was unmistakably him. It tasted risky and illicit, and it stirred something unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. A reaction that no boy had ever managed to provoke in you.

"There's no denying it, vampires really are the best supernatural creatures," you muttered, sinking your teeth into the last slice of the half-cold pizza you'd ordered earlier. You were especially comfortable sitting cross-legged on his bed as the rain pounded against the windows and the end of the movie drew near on his computer screen. His parents were out of town for the week, on a business trip or something, providing you with an opportunity to finally meet away from prying eyes. He seemed quite comfortable too, with his leg pressed against yours and his hand wrapped around his soda cup, which he sipped absentmindedly. "I have to say, I never thought you'd be into movies like this," he told you after a few long seconds, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "given your looks, I thought you'd be more into romantic comedies or something." You held back an annoyed sigh.

"Like I said..." you finally replied, "you should beware of appearances."

They can be misleading sometimes, you kept to yourself.

It was true that you were usually a sweet, sensible girl, the ideal daughter who always smiled and never caused trouble. The pride and joy of your parents. But lately you had grown tired. Tired of following orders, of doing everything you were told without ever being able to listen to your heart. You were eager to get rid of this constant fear of disappointing your loved ones if you didn't live up to their expectations, and it seemed that life had given you the perfect opportunity to free yourself from all that.

"Is there something I should know?" the young man’s hand came to rest on the top of your thigh, his thumb delicately stroking the soft skin there, "some dark secret of yours, princess?". His almost mocking tone and the annoying nickname were enough to bring back that scorching heat in the pit of your stomach. The way he looked at you, at your breasts, made you think that he was affected by this sudden closeness, too. His gaze burned, almost as much as his fingers, which were now creeping dangerously up the hem of your shorts. And when you felt them graze the lace of your underwear in the hollow where your leg and hip met, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd bitten off more than you could chew.

But even though you were entering unfamiliar territory, something foreign to you, you refused to lose control and let him take what he wanted without saying a word. This wasn't your style. You always had a witty comeback ready to go. And you were going to show him.

Slowly, you moved forward a few inches on the bed to sit astride his very inviting lap, never taking your eyes off his lips. Your hands found his shoulders, and you could feel the hardness of his desire beneath your thighs. Gods, the sensation was divine. This was your doing. You and no one else’s. The sudden surge of power and dominance made your head spin. "Be very careful what you do now," his fingers settled on your hips to bring your chests a little closer together, his grip tight and bruising. "Or what?" you replied in an almost insolent, even provocative tone.

"Or we could end up doing something you might regret."

This was all a very bad idea, that much was true. Davos Blackwood was a very bad idea. But you didn't want to dwell on what the future might hold, let alone the potential consequences of your actions. All you knew was that you wanted more. More of his hands on your skin, more of his lips on yours, and more of him.

And it seemed that he, too, was eager to take it further.

His fingers made their way up from your waist to your chest, slipping under your tank top to brush his thumbs over the two little hardened buds. The ghost of a touch, really, but it was enough to make you moan. Your mouths were now just a few inches apart, your breaths mingling, but you didn't want to kiss him yet, choosing to prolong this delicious, exhilarating tension for a few minutes longer.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. "Do you feel it?". He backed up his words with action, rolling his hips and planting a kiss right at the corner of your jaw. "You know what this is?" he added, rolling one of your nipples between his index finger and thumb, "what happens to a man when a woman behaves the way you do?". Of course I know, you wanted to say but the words stuck in your throat and only a moan managed to break through the barrier of your lips. You weren't stupid, you were perfectly aware of what happened in this kind of situation. But you'd never seen it, let alone touched it, and the theory was very different from the actual reality.

"Shut up," you replied at last, before planting a kiss on his lips. You didn't mean it, though. To be honest, you wished he would talk to you like that all night long, sending a wave of heat straight to your core with words alone. His tongue found yours, silencing your thoughts, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from losing your footing. "Such a foul mouth," he said, smiling against your lips as he gave you time to breathe, "we'll see if you're still so talkative once I'm done with you."

The young man's hands found the bottom of your tank top and pulled it over your head, and soon it was your shorts that suffered the same fate, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties. You suddenly felt exposed, lying there under that hungry gaze that regarded you like a precious gift, a prized possession. You waited eagerly for his next move.

Where was the bold young woman who had taken the lead just a few minutes earlier, the one so determined not to lose control? It seemed like she'd already vanished, replaced by some shy creature beneath his crude words and inappropriate touch.

"What are you going to do to me?" you tilted your head to the side to give him better access to the skin of your neck, which he was kissing with increasing fervor. "Nothing you won't like," he replied as he stood up to get rid of his t-shirt, which joined the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. Your eyes couldn't help but wander over his toned torso dotted with dark hairs, your hands itching to touch him.

Soon enough, his lips found your jaw, then your neck, then the top of your chest, and you immediately shivered. The weight of his body lying on yours was delightful, comforting. "Please..." you whimpered as your hands settled on his shoulders, urging him to give you what you were so desperate for. You felt his fingers slide slowly against the skin of your belly, then lower, much lower, to play with the lace of your underwear, and your back arched almost reflexively. You wanted more, you needed more, and you were getting tired of waiting.

"Be patient, princess," he said, nibbling on the soft skin of your breast, his mouth soon wrapping around your hardened nipple. A grunt escaped you, and you weren't quite sure if it was from your frustration or the dominant tone he had just used. His hand slipped under the fabric of your panties to tease the top of your slit before brushing over your already soaked folds. It was annoying, really, the effect he was having on you with such a light touch. But it was heavenly, and you had decided to ignore the voice of reason for the night.

His index finger found the little pearl nestled at the apex of your center, and the contact felt like a delicious electric shock. You threw your head back, eyes closing, lips parting in a silent cry as he drew little circles around your most sensitive area. "Have you ever had anyone here?" he asked after a few seconds. When you didn't answer, he added: "I asked you a question, and I want you to answer me." There it was again, his commanding, almost controlling tone.

"N... no," you stammered as you opened your eyes again to meet his, "nobody." You suddenly felt like prey under his hungry gaze that devoured your trembling body. "Perfect," you heard, just before his fingers found your entrance, which was already clenching around nothing, "and here?".

The idea of being the first to enter you seemed to obsess him.

You nodded, this time from left to right, signifying that no, you had saved your virginity for the right man, the one who would know how to make you tremble under his ministrations, the one who would know how to make you beg for more, always more.

"Perfect," he repeated again, as the first knuckle of his index finger sank agonizingly slowly into you, teasing your inner walls. It was barely there, nothing really, and yet you already felt incredibly full. "You're so tight," he growled against the skin of your throat, "so warm too, you're going to feel amazing around me." He added a second knuckle and soon his finger was completely buried inside you. It felt good, and it felt right, but it didn't feel like enough. You wiggled your hips and it seemed as if Davos had understood your silent request immediately. "I need you to take another," he straightened on his left elbow to look at you with lust-blown pupils, "do you think you can do that for me?". Once again, you nodded your head in agreement, but this time it didn't seem to be enough for him. "Use your words, princess." You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "I... I can take more," you murmured right against his lips as you looked down between your thighs.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low and rough as you felt his middle finger pressing into you. He curled them both, brushing that spongy spot against your inner wall, and you threw your head back.

You dug your nails into his pale skin to stay anchored in the present as his thumb found your clit. But you knew you wouldn't last long. You could already feel tingles of pleasure buzzing through your body, and in the pit of your belly, the fires of delight burned a little more fiercely. You wanted to warn him, to tell him you were close, but he was quicker than you: "Come for me."

He didn't need to tell you a second time.

Soon, the wave of your orgasm washed over you.

It made your whole body shake with spasms, your climax exploding like fireworks behind your eyelids. Your lips crashed against his neck to stifle your final moan as your back arched under the intense sensation. The young man was merciful enough to give you a few seconds to recover before withdrawing his fingers, leaving you empty and frustrated. "Look at the mess you made," you heard him groan, "clean it up." His index and middle fingers brushed across your lips, which parted eagerly to welcome them into your warm mouth.

You timidly wrapped your tongue around them under his predatory gaze. The mere thought that you could taste yourself on your taste buds set your body on fire once again. It was indecent, inappropriate, and you probably should have been ashamed to be used like this, but you couldn't care less.

Maybe it was his fault, or maybe you'd just found each other despite everything that kept you apart.

His fingers left your mouth to wrap around your neck. But as he lay back on the mattress and guided you towards his lips, you resisted. Once again, you straddled his hips, only this time completely naked. He looked at you for a few seconds, a little confused, until you reached under the elastic of his underwear to slide it down his legs. This seemed to make him realize the extent of your intentions. His hard member jumped free and caught your eye. Standing proud with a mass of dark curls adorning its base, the sight alone made you salivate. "Let me thank you," you said, as your fingers gently traced its length. "I want to make you feel good too." You slowly moved between his legs to kiss his inner thighs.

You reached out tentatively and wrapped your fingers around his manhood. It felt heavy in your hand, massive and your index finger couldn't quite touch your thumb because it was so wide. You brought your lips to his crotch and, watching Davos from beneath your long lashes, planted a quick kiss on the head where it was already weeping for you. Your tongue traced a vein on the underside without ever breaking eye contact. He threw his head back, his lips parted to let out a muffled curse.

The rush of power you felt when you saw him so vulnerable under your touch was sinfully delicious.

You tilted your head to the side to plant a series of kisses all along his hardened manhood, your big innocent eyes still locked with his. There was a pause, a few tense seconds, before finally, finally, you moved your head forward to take him fully into your mouth. His big hand found refuge at the back of your skull, and you let him guide you completely.

The grip on your hair tightened, almost to the point of pain. "Breathe, through your nose," the young man ordered, but his voice was more urgent than before, his breathing becoming ragged from the growing pleasure. "You can do better than that." The fingers buried in your locks soon forced you to swallow him whole, your nose pressed against his pelvis, the unruly hair tickling your face. You could feel yourself drooling around him, the action messy. "Such a filthy girl," he said as his thumb came to caress the corner of your mouth, right where his member disappeared between your lips, "sucking my cock like a real whore." You let out an audible moan around his length in response to the foulness of his words.

But instead of disgusting you, it only served to encourage you.

You hollowed out your cheeks, still following the rhythm of his hand, which had resumed its place at the back of your head. He was big, and he filled your mouth in a way you hadn't experienced before, but you wanted to prove to him that you could satisfy him, that you could make him proud. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, which he hastily wiped away with the tip of his free thumb. "Shh... you're doing so well," he praised you in a reassuring tone. You knew he was close to reaching his climax. His breathing had become labored, his movements erratic, and it was evident that you were causing him to lose his balance. But it seemed he didn't want to end it that quickly.

"Wait, not yet," he straightened into a sitting position, placing his hand on your cheek to force you back a few inches, "I'd hate to waste it." The implication made your cheeks flush, but you couldn't help but look forward to what would come next.

His hands came to rest on your waist, encouraging you to sit on his hips again, this time making his still impossibly hard manhood brush against your soaked cunt. The contact alone was enough to elicit a moan from you. His own fingers wrapped around his member as he guided it towards your narrow entrance.

And after what felt like an eternity, he finally thrust into you.

He stretched you to perfection, the foreign sensation a mixture of delicious pain and aching pleasure. "Fuck princess, you're tight," your head found refuge in the hollow of his neck, but you could hear that annoying smirk in his voice, "I'm going to ruin you." And oh how you couldn't wait for him to make good on his threats. "Move," you pleaded against the skin of his throat as you hesitantly moved your hips up and down to get that delicious friction you craved. He seemed hell-bent on teaching you self-restraint, even though you desperately wanted to see him lose control. He grabbed your waist in a firm grip, keeping you pressed against his hips and making you whine. "Did I say you could move?" he asked, kissing the side of your jaw. Once again that night, you'd annoyed him by not answering, and he repeated, "did I say you could move?".

It seems he was also trying to make you learn obedience, in addition to patience.

You didn't even have a chance to react before the young man used his grip on your waist to pull back almost completely, revealing his member glistening with your sticky juices before thrusting himself into you once more. His head was rubbing against that most delicious spot inside you, making your legs tremble with pure bliss. "Please, I..." You didn't even know what you were asking for as he moved back and forth continuously. You thought he'd ask you to speak again, but he was too caught up in pleasure and close to his release to be bothered by your pleas.

But even if he'd lost his rhythm, it was clear he was still determined to satisfy you. His thumb was back on your little pearl, tracing small circles around it, while inside you his length relentlessly pounded against your inner wall. You could feel yourself clenching around him, and the heat between your thighs was back with a fiercer intensity than ever. “I’m going to fill you up,” his teeth nibbled at the soft skin of your neck, marking it possessively, “I’m going to fill you up and you’re going to take everything I’m going to give you, feel me for days.” The moans that came out of your mouth were now completely incoherent, a confused jumble of yes and please.

Your climax hit hard and fast—stronger than the one Davos had offered you earlier that night. You dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving red half-moons as evidence of your forbidden actions. Your back arched off the mattress, pressing his body against yours as reality slipped through your fingers and a myriad of stars danced behind your eyelids. He followed you just a few seconds later, pouring into you with white ropes.

He stayed inside you for a few more moments, his length softening. But neither of you felt like moving, not when you were so comfortable, lying against each other, your limbs tangled. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead that made your heart clench. You still refused to think about the future and the problems that might arise from such a strong connection between the two of you. All that mattered for the moment was his skin against yours and your fingers in his hair.

"We should do that again," you murmured as you kissed his cheeks, his chin, his nose, "someday."

He smiled.

"We will," he said with confidence, "I'll make sure of that, princess."

The nickname made your stomach flutter with excitement.

#davos blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #hotd x reader #davos blackwood x you #benjicot blackwood x you #davos blackwood fanfic #benjicot blackwood fanfic #hotd fanfic

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harunayuuka2060 · 7 months ago

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Vil: Did you manage to resolve the issue?

MC: Yes. It was a bit difficult at first, but the client listened in the end.

Vil: …

Vil: You shouldn't have disclosed that you used to work as a concierge.

Vil: Now everyone is bothering you.

MC: *smiles* That's better than doing nothing.

MC: I'm not here for relaxation anyway.

Vil: …

Vil: Anyway, I received news from Dad. A director, who is a friend of his, needs a stand in.

Vil: And he wants to hire you for this.

MC: Huh?

Vil: What do you think?

MC: …

MC: Is physical appearance a requirement?

Vil: He didn't specify. Although he might need you for doing action stunts.

MC: …

MC: Alright.

Vil: Hm. Great. We'll be meeting him this afternoon to discuss it.

MC: Okay.

The casting director: *after seeing MC for the first time* Oh my seven…

MC: …

The casting director: Their face, their eyes, their built… *turns to look at Vil’s dad* Oh, Eric! Where did you find such a fine specimen?!

Eric: *chuckles* They're a friend of Vil.

The casting director: *turns to MC again* Do you have any experience in acting?

MC: …

MC: Yes. But it was a long time ago.

The casting director: Oh? How come I've never seen you in any movie?

Vil: They usually played as a double at that time, especially for action scenes.

The casting director: A double? With this gorgeous face?

Eric, MC, and Vil: …

The casting director: Oh sweetheart, you are straight out of a fairy tale!

MC: Um…

The casting director: Everyone! We found our protagonist!

The staff: *cheers*

MC: …

MC: *smiles* We might've some misunderstanding—

The casting director: Thank you so much, Eric, for bringing me this one!

Eric: *chuckles* You're welcome.

Vil: …

Vil: Dad.

Eric: Er, I didn't know she was looking for someone to be a protagonist.

Vil: …

Vil: *has managed to convince the casting director to do a screen test first before deciding on MC*

The casting director: MC, don't be nervous. Okay?

MC: *nods*

The actress: Good luck. *smiles kindly at them*

MC: *smiles back* Thank you.

The casting director: Okay! Let's roll the camera!

Vil: …

The casting director: Action!

MC: *looks at the actress with a gentle gaze* *then subtly smiles*

Vil: …

The actress: …

The actress: *ends up blushing*

The casting director: Cut! Cut! That is perfect!

Vil: …

The actress: I-I’m sorry.

MC: *feeling slightly embarrassed* It’s alright.

Vil: …

Vil: Looks like you'll be doing separate work now.

MC: Yes. But I won't still be neglecting my duties here.

Vil: …

Vil: Have you told the news to Che’nya?

MC: Yes. *smiles* He was really happy about it.

Vil: …

Vil: I haven't congratulated you yet. Let's have a toast?

MC: It's already late and you have an appointment tomorrow.

Vil: You're right.

Vil: Let's do it tomorrow then.

MC: *smiles*

MC: Why are you still awake, Che’nya?

Che’nya: I wasn't able to call you all day, nya~.

MC: Yeah, I'm sorry. Something unexpected happened.

Che’nya: That you got scouted for a movie and received the protagonist role?

MC: …

MC: How did you know?

Che’nya: Nyaha~ The actress you practiced with is Neige’s co-star before!

MC: I see.

Che’nya: Congratulations nya~.

MC: *smiles* Thank you.

Che’nya: When will the taping start?

MC: In the next couple of weeks.

Che’nya: Hmm… Does that mean you have to stay there longer?

MC: Hm. Yes.

Che’nya: …

Che’nya: Nya love~

MC: Hm?

Che’nya: I miss you nya~!

MC: *chuckles* I miss you too.

Che’nya: *squeals* So sweet~! Bye-bye~! *ends the call*

MC: *smiles*

Neige: How did it go?

Che’nya: Nya love has no idea we're here!

*Both of them has arrived to the airport*

Neige: Oh Che’nya, I told you to inform MC.

Che’nya: Nope! I'm surprising my spouse! :3

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst chenya #twst vil #twst neige #twst vil and mc series 1

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svsss-fanon-exposed · 8 months ago

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Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 25/∞

VIOLENCE AS COURTSHIP IS A PART OF DEMON CULTURE

Rating: CANON

A nearly universal trope, especially in Moshang fics, is the fact that courtship is performed through violence in demon culture, and that the misunderstandings between the pair are because of cultural differences. The fact that demons mistreat the targets of their affection is canon, however, it is important for fans to note that this sort of characterization and worldbuilding is rooted in racial and ethnic stereotypes.

This is one of the most-requested topics I've ever written on this blog, and I took a long time to think about how best to approach the subject in a way that both keeps to the intention of this blog (referencing canon & providing quotes) as well as raising awareness to the very real problematic aspects of what is a well-loved and often-used trope in fanon that I don't think most western fans are aware of.

First, the canon analysis:

“If you hold unique feelings for a certain person, how can you make them understand your intentions?” Luo Binghe asked. Obviously, no one dared to tear down Luo Binghe’s facade and expose him directly, but this question was really very…unsuited to the demonic approach. After a long moment, not a single person had answered. In fact, the answer was so simple that any normal human could have given it to you. If you liked someone, you should just tell them. Unfortunately, there was not a single “normal” person on the scene—and aside from Shang Qinghua, there also were no “humans” either. Mobei-Jun thought about it. With the paths his mind was given to take, there was no telling how he had interpreted “unique” feelings. “Beat them up three times a day?” (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Most of the fandom remembers this passage, and some may think that this is where the interpretation of violence as courtship comes from-- however, that is not the case. This passage might actually not refer to courtship at all-- while that is one possible interpretation, Mobei-jun could also be interpreting "unique feelings" to mean something different than "romantic feelings," since Luo Binghe didn't specify romance directly.

The "violent demonic courtship" idea actually originates much earlier in the novel, just after the invasion of Qiong Ding Peak:

In truth, Shen Qingqiu didn’t intend to tease; he thought himself very straightforward. The one who’d tampered with Luo Binghe’s dream realm was Sha Hualing. Though she did have some harmful intentions, her underlying motive was obvious. Naturally, she was driven by a young girl’s secret yearning for love. Otherwise, she would have directed her aggressions toward others, not specifically Luo Binghe. Demons were compelled to viciously bully the person they liked. Only if the object of their affections failed to die would the demon accept them. If their target died, that meant they were useless and not worth nursing any lingering affections for. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

This, in fact, has somewhat more serious connotations than the way I have often seen it interpreted in fanworks-- it is not merely beating up a potential partner, but pushing them to their limits, nearly driving them to death, and it is certainly implied that it is not uncommon for the object of a demon's affections to actually die.

Now that the canonical basis of the idea has been established, let us move on to the second, and arguably more important part of this post: the racism.

I would like to add a disclaimer here-- I am going to discuss this in hopes of raising more awareness in the fandom, but I am not North/West/Central Asian myself, so I will only mention things in brief and somewhat generally-- if anyone who belongs to the affected cultures would like to make corrections, or more detailed explanations, or any other additions to this post on this topic, I greatly welcome that, as I feel it is an important issue that should be addressed.

In Chinese fiction, particularly fantasy genres like xianxia/xuanhuan/xiuzhen, but also in historical and wuxia fiction, there is a pervasive, prevalent tendency for authors to use racial and ethnic stereotypes against Central, Northern, and Western Asian cultures such as Mongolian & Arab cultures in their worldbuilding regarding the North, while stereotypes against Southeast Asian cultures are used in worldbuilding regarding the South. These stereotypes are most typically applied to villains and villainous groups, and are so widespread as to be ubiquitous within the genre. MXTX has used these tropes before-- notably with the Banyue people in TGCF, with adaptations of both TGCF and MDZS including design stereotypes, such as CQL's portrayal of the Qinghe Nie (combining their tendency toward violence and 'unnatural' cultivation method, with design traits typically associated with Northern/Central Asian cultures).

It is worth noting, though, that most authors do not intentionally use these traits as racist stereotypes in their worldbuilding, especially when regarding a non-human species-- in the same way that western fantasy authors use goblin and orc characters and tropes without realizing or acknowledging their racist origins and connotiations, these stereotypes have simply become genre tropes without that direct connection to their origins. Nonetheless, it is still worth noting-- and worth trying not to fall into the trap of leaning into stereotypical traits in fanworks' character portrayals.

Stereotypes include but are not limited to barbaric and brutish cultural traits, association with animals/having animal features, dark or corrupt magical/spiritual practices, certain types of braided hairstyles & other fashion choices, and originating from the far north or south.

Some of the prejudice and stereotyping of Northern Asian cultures likely originates from the fact that in the past, China was invaded and subjugated by peoples from the north (under Mongolian rule during the Yuan dynasty, and under Manchurian rule during the Qing dynasty) as well as having many conflicts with these peoples throughout history. In fact, the Qing dynasty only ended in the early 1900s, so some of this oppression is still in recent memory-- nonetheless, people belonging to ethnic minorities in China are still affected by this negative stereotyping today, so regardless of the origin, racism is still racism and should be addressed, and China today is a majority Han Chinese nation-- even if Han Chinese are considered a minority and affected by systemic racism in other places in the world.

Additionally, many tropes specifically applied to the southern demons, but also used for demon culture as a whole, are tied to stereotypical portrayals of Southeast Asian culture, which is rooted in a long history of Imperial China's invasion and oppression.

All of those stereotypes listed above apply to SVSSS' demon culture. Even in Mobei-jun's name-- 漠北 meaning "northern desert," which is the real-world name for a region in the north of the Gobi desert in Mongolia.

Therefore, it is important to remember that though violence-as-courtship in demon culture is canonical within SVSSS' setting, it nonetheless originates from harmful racial and ethnic stereotypes. It would be a good idea for fans to keep this in mind when creating their fanworks, and to treat the topic with sensitivity-- but I will leave any direct suggestions on how to handle this to those who are actually part of the affected groups.

(thanks to @flidgetjerome for additional notes regarding SEAsian stereotyping and author intent!)

Also, to be absolutely clear: I am not saying that svsss’ demons are specifically coded as any real ethnic group— it’s only that in many ways the portrayal is similar to the common portrayal of various ethnic groups in cmedia. I don’t believe they are specifically meant to parallel a real life group, unlike for example TGCF’s Banyue— but it’s worth questioning why these traits, why these characters.

#svsss #fanon exposed #svsss demon culture #mobei jun #canon #I don't know if I did a good job addressing the sensitive topics here so please feel free to correct anything I got wrong #or if I've overstepped anywhere #i just want to use the platform i have to bring this to the western fandom's attention since i don't think it's widely known #i will very gladly reblog any additions from fans who wish to weigh in but definitely don't feel pressured to do so

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bakuhatsufallinlove · 3 months ago

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How do you feel about the fact that Katsuki’s apology and his death are not brought up again? I was really sad they never talked about it all. Do you have any headcanons for when/how/if they ever talk?

Dear anon, you've activated my trap card.

By which I mean you've asked me about something on which my feelings apparently vastly differ from those of most people.

To answer your question, I did not expect nor even want a scene addressing the apology again in-canon. Neither did I expect a scene where they discuss Katsuki's death, though I was less opposed to that.

But let me specify this right off the bat: there is a distinction between what I would enjoy seeing and what I think has narrative weight.

And I think that's fascinating to talk about. You asked me how I feel, so get ready!

When people say they wish Katsuki and Izuku had talked about his death, what are they wanting?

Do they want to see Izuku get vulnerable and choked up over Katsuki, shed tears for him? Do they want to see Katsuki see him like that, and watch him soften and let Izuku open up? Do they want to see him take Izuku's hand and comfort him, reassure him that they won, that it's over, that he's still here, and no one is gonna keep him from getting back up again? With the implication that getting back up again means standing at Izuku's side and helping him win?

I sure as fuck do!

But do I think that kind of scene does something for the story, themes, and development of them as characters that what we actually got doesn't do? Not necessarily.

See, stories are not driven by what the audience wants to see.

Stories are driven by what the characters need.

Not what they want, what they need. Often, characters are denied what they want because it does not align with what they need, and this is the very premise of their struggle. Katsuki is a great example of this, because at the start of the story, he wants to feel superior to Izuku, but what he needs is to accept his own admiration of him.

Fanworks exist to give the audience what they want, in a vacuum, totally separate from the linear structure of the narrative. You can just pop into a scene of Izuku crying and have Katsuki kiss him better and that gets us every time, doesn't it?

But in the manga, for a scene like this to exist, there has to be a need for it to address. So, what would that need be?

I think people ask for these scenes because they are under the mistaken impression that Katsuki doesn't understand how Izuku feels about him. And I cannot tell you how much I disagree with this.

If Katsuki didn't understand that Izuku cares deeply for him, then a scene like what I described would probably be intended to tell the audience that he needs to understand how Izuku feels and, up until now, he hasn't.

But that's not true.

Katsuki knows Izuku cares about him.

At the start of the manga, Katsuki is convinced Izuku looks down on him.

Chapter 10

We the audience understand this is projection. Katsuki's admiration of Izuku makes him feel inferior, so he rejects his own self-critical feelings and assigns them to Izuku. No matter how many times Izuku shouts that he thinks Katsuki is amazing, Katsuki's inferiority complex is unfazed.

He utterly ignores it, it doesn't even register for him.

Chapters 10 and 119

Instead he doubles-down on his own frustration and dissatisfaction with himself, engaging from a point of competition, as though Izuku had insulted him rather than complimented him.

This tells the audience that the problem does not lie with Izuku, but with Katsuki himself. Izuku cannot resolve this situation with words, we've seen him try. Instead, Katsuki needs to change his own perspective.

After Deku vs. Kacchan 2, Katsuki accepts—begrudgingly and with great discomfort—that Izuku does not look down on him.

Chapter 120

Even though Katsuki reconciles this, that doesn't change the fact that he is weak. He needs to grow as a person and as a hero. Now, his struggle is not just about his self-perception, but also his real progress.

Chapter 209

We joke about Kacchan being a tsundere, because he is, but part of the reason he rejects Izuku's appraisal of his progress is because he still hasn't met his own standards yet. Katsuki admires Izuku and All Might so much; he knows what they are capable of, he sees the gulf between where he is and where they are, and he is fighting like hell to close that gap.

He won't be satisfied until he does.

Chapters 362 and 409

I've seen people talk about this moment like it is a revelation for Katsuki about Izuku's feelings.

Chapter 359

And, first of all, lemme just say that no villain has ever said a damn thing to Kacchan that he didn't already know.

Chapter 358

ShigAFO's comment does not exist to confirm Izuku's feelings to Katsuki. It exists to signal to Katsuki (and the audience) that ShigAFO knows how Izuku feels, and he is prepared to use it against them.

This is a threat. This is about instilling horror in us and bringing to painful fruition Katsuki's fears about being a weakness people can exploit to hurt Izuku.

But let's not bury the lede: Katsuki would not have these fears if he didn't understand that Izuku cares about him.

Chapter 82

Look at his face and tell me he doesn't know with every fiber of his being that Izuku would die for him.

You could argue that because Katsuki understands Izuku's heroic nature better than anyone, perhaps he doesn't consider Izuku's protectiveness of him unique. Maybe he doesn't understand that Izuku loves him specifically and, to him, this is simply an expression of Izuku's selfless, save-to-win mentality.

But that I counter with two points:

Katsuki is not dumb, guys. He is our most emotionally intelligent and self-aware character. We are shown on numerous occasions that Katsuki can read between the lines and understand someone's feelings without being told (unlike Izuku, who's a damn nerd).

The story arc of Katsuki and Izuku's relationship is predicated on the fact that Katsuki rejected Izuku, but they are both unable and unwilling to truly disentangle themselves from each other. This means that their interactions, across the whole of the series, generally focus on Katsuki accepting Izuku and his own feelings, thereby restoring their relationship. To do this, he needed to both accept himself and better himself.

As a result of the second point, the focus is not on Izuku demonstrating his love for Katsuki as the bridge of change. The fact that Izuku loves Katsuki and wants him in his life is indeed highlighted frequently, but it is often treated as a given.

I've said it before: Izuku's feelings are not the ones that change the most, Katsuki's are.

Now you might say, "Maybe Katsuki doesn't need to hear Izuku's feelings, but Izuku might still need to say them!" And you're right, that is a possibility! Even if it is a given to the audience, there could be something that suggests Izuku saying these feelings out loud would be significant or change something between them.

But that's not what the series tells us.

Izuku does not hold back about the way he feels for Katsuki. Whether he is calling Kacchan a stupid jerk or saying he is amazing, Izuku is not subtle about what he thinks—in fact, these are often his most raw, unfiltered character moments, and they are significant.

Chapter 119

The only significant time Izuku does not tell Katsuki how he feels is his image of victory moment at the end of DvK2.

Chapter 120

My conclusion about this is that Izuku has felt conflicted about his own behavior and thinks Katsuki would reject him if he knew about it, so he chooses not to bring it up.

However, there is still a narrative purpose of showing us this thought, and that is to demonstrate that while Izuku may feel conflicted, ultimately he still accepts his own feelings. Regardless of whether Katsuki accepts him or not, the way Izuku feels won't change, and he's not sorry about it.

This moment exists for a lot of reasons, but chief among them is so that we the audience can see the true shape of Izuku's heart.

And what we see is that he loves and admires Katsuki, no matter how he acts or even what kind of person that makes Izuku.

I liken it to Katsuki's All Might card moment.

Chapter 362

Listen, I would have loved to see my explody boy get his autograph, but the greatest impact of this scene is not in the question of whether he will get one, that's just the tragedy lying on the surface as we witness his death.

No, the most meaningful part of this moment is in how it makes the audience truly understand that he still longs for it, even after all these years.

I wanted Izuku to tell Katsuki he is his image of victory, but the fact that it doesn't happen signals to me that Izuku ultimately didn't need to say those words out loud for that moment to matter. Izuku reconciled the discomfort he felt about admiring Katsuki and embraced his positive feelings for him, and that's pretty damn important.

I can and will indulge in fandom to meet my heart's desires, and that's excellent. But rather than simply feeling disappointed by canon material, I think it is more interesting to allow both what happens in the story and what doesn't inform my understanding of it.

I have been planning an in-depth post about the apology and what I think people are missing when they say Izuku "didn't respond" to Katsuki, but let me just lightly touch on my objections to that line of thinking.

Many people in the English-speaking audience appear to have a very narrow range of actions they consider a "response," and allowing someone else to act upon you for some reason does not seem to count.

If you frame interactions only by what Character A does to Character B and see Character A as the only active participant, you are missing out on a lot.

For example, Katsuki catches Izuku, and we see that as a demonstration of his love, as we should.

But how is Izuku allowing himself to be caught not an action that expresses his feelings? How is the fact that he responded to an apology with his own apology not indicative of how he wants to connect to Katsuki in this moment? How does it not convey what he feels for Katsuki, what he has always felt for him?

Furthermore, I see a lot of people take for granted how silence is a choice, and it carries meaning. Much like with what does and doesn't happen in a story, there is meaning in what people say and what they don't.

Japanese as a language values indirectness; it is not a bug, it is a feature. This is partly to avoid forcing yourself onto others and causing them discomfort, but another part is trusting others to understand who you are and how you feel without beating them over the head with it.

But you'll have to wait for my full post to hear the rest of that idea.

I dunno if this is what you were expecting out of your question, anon, but I hope you enjoyed the ride all the same!

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lumibuns-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Throws Arthur Morgan x reader fluff fic at you

Reader gets recognized while the gang is staying near Rhodes by some estranged and very distant family member who knew her from before she fell in with the gang and is whisked off to their southern mansion (a location that's not actually in the game) as these family member try to "save her" from the gang Arthur has to go in and get her back.

"Go get your girl!"

It was supposed to be a simple shopping trip, it really was. That was until you had gotten recognized. You and the rest of the gang had only been around Rhodes for maybe 2 weeks and Dutch had already integrated himself into their problems as he was apparently known to do. You had only been with the gang a short while now, they saved you from some O'driscolls back in the mountains around the same time they had found Ms. Adler. With nowhere else to go and no family that would take you in you decided to stay with them. All of this is to say that Dutch had kindly asked the gang not to cause trouble and you were in no place to be disobeying that order.

Which is exactly how you found yourself in this situation. You had gotten recognized by some old family friends or maybe distant family? You couldn't really remember. They had only seen you once before your family moved out west to the mountains yet somehow they recognized you. And before you knew it you were being dragged away from Charles and Javier who had come with you as back up. All while this haughty woman had a death grip on your arm saying,

"What in God's name are you doing with people like that, that is simply no place for a lady such as yourself to be in! Now come with us!"

You probably could have easily kicked her away or asked Charles to do it for you but Dutch's reminder to "lay low" rang through your head so you decided to not make a scene, not here at least. You pleaded with your eyes for Javier and Charles to do the same and mouthed the words,

"I'll be fine"

before you were pulled into a carriage

Arthur sat peacefully in his tent, he had gotten back from a job earlier that day and decided to take you advice, that sweet voice of yours still echoed in his head

"Just take break Mr. Morgan, you deserve it"

And so he did just that, speaking of wasn't it about time for you to be getting back?

Charles and Javier had accompanied you to go shopping but that was over an hour ago at least, You should be back by now.

Arthur sat up, maybe he was just being paranoid, you could handle yourself. Plus Charles and Javier were with you and they were capable men. He would have felt much better if he was able to have gone with you, that way not only would he be able to make sure nothing happened but he would have been able to see that sweet smile and those wonder filled eyes as he drove you to town, that soft giggle as you pull him into the general store, and those sweet pleading eyes as you begged him to set aside a bit of the budget for some candies. He would have acted annoyed, pinching his brow and shaking his head before grumbling about how as long as you don't tell Ms. Grimshaw. But in reality he would had already decided he would buy you something special before you set foot on the store even if he had to use his own money. But that was neither here nor there, you had decided to go with Charles and Javier to let him rest which was...fine.

He pulled himself up from his bed and made his way into the center of camp.

"Anybody seen her since she lef' to go do the shoppin?" He asked to those sitting around the camp fire, he didn't need to specify who the 'her' was everyone knew it was you, he always seemed to be referring to you somehow.

"Naw they ain't back yet" Lenny chimes

"Hm ok then" he straightened up and scratched the scar his chin.

"Why ya worried or somethin Arthur" uncle said with a teasing tone.

"No" he grumbled in response

You two were not together in any sense of the word but the connection between you two was so strong and so caring that everyone at camp could see it. Except Arthur of course he remained frustratingly unaware as he was stuck in all his thoughts of you being "too good for him" and him being "a bad man". Just then the wagon pulled up, Arthur quickly identified both Charles and Javier but no you. Before he could ask, Mary Beth ran up

"Where's your company?" She asked clearly puzzled

They both seemed out of breath as they climbed down, the camp now starting to gather around

"She's been taken" Charles panted

Arthur felt his heart drop, "taken where? By who? O'driscolls?" He asked hurriedly, the panic started to seep in.

"No not O'driscolls" Javier said quickly "some rich bastards recognized her when she went into town, they pulled her away from us so fast we didn't even have time to react"

"How could you two let somethin this happen?" Arthur growled, sounding a bit more upset than he would have liked to "God damn it I knew I should have gone with" he trailed off, hands at his sides

"Hold on a minute" Karen interjected "how did she let herself get taken? I mean were these people threatenin her? Were they armed?"

"No and no" Charles confirmed "but she begged us not to make a scene and she said she'd be fine but you know how these things are-"

"What in god's name is going on here" the camps leader suddenly joined the conversation sounding exasperated as Hosea followed, they both noted the obvious lack of your presence.

"She's been taken to god knows where to do god knows what" Arthur growled before Dutch was filled in on the situation

"And none of this would have happened" Arthur continued "if you hadn't gotten so close with those lawmen and asked us not to cause any trouble, you know she only went with 'em to keep the nooses of of our necks" he was starting to clench his hand now, feeling his nails dig uncomfortably into his palms.

What if you were being hurt right now, or worse? He couldn't even bear the thought.

"Clam down Arthur" Hosea soothed "she doesn't seem to be in any immediate danger as of now, we'll get her back don't you worry"

But Arthur couldn't help it and peoples lack of apparent urgency was not helping his brimming rage. Yes in hindsight he was over reacting a bit, in all honesty these people clearly had no intention of hurting you but they could have plans to take you away somewhere he would never be able to see you again. Probably to somewhere more fitting for a lady like you than a camp full of outlaws, somewhere nice like you deserved, he imagined with a heavy heart. But Arthur was a selfish man when it came to you, he wouldn't let anyone else have you or take you away from him, no matter the destination. And it wasn't like it was Marston who had been taken or something damnit it was you! So lord forgive him if he seemed a bit more touchy than he normally would have.

"Oh yes Arthur we'll get your sweetheart back before you know it" Dutch teased earning chuckles from those around him

Arthur loves him like a father but sometimes he swore he could hit the man. He pulled his hat over his face though it did nothing to his the reddening tips of his ears.

"I'm going to get her now before any of you idiots try to do it and mess things up again" he stormed with his hands in the air off towards his horse.

"Ooooo Arthur wants to be the hero!" Karen teased batting her lashes before getting a slap on the arm from Tilly.

Arthur couldn't hide the blush creeping up his cheeks anymore. The fact the camp knew you were the one who had named the horse he had just jumped onto was not helping in any way.

"They headed towards the mansion down past the braithwaite place, thats as far as we tracked them" Charles said coming up beside Arthur "now hurry"

"Thank you Charles" Arthur murmured before a swift kick and a loud "hiyah!" sent him off. Karen's unmistakable cry's of "go get your girl Mr. Morgan!" Ringing through the evening air after him.

As he came up on the mansion he could only stare in awe at its size. He knew your family was somewhat well off but...wow. It forced him back to a now painful conversation he had had around the camp fire some weeks back.

....

"Just admit it O'discoll! You've got a thing for the lady!" Sean teased Kieran about his obvious feelings for Mary Beth.

"I- I do not!" He retorted, clearly regretting his previous excitement at being invited to drink with the rest of them

"Don't deny it that makes you look stupid" Arthur had added after a couple beers

"I wouldn't be talking Arthur..." John murmured before taking another swig

Arthur paused for just a moment before straightening up "The hell you talkin 'bout Marston?" he had spat back

"Come on Arthur don't play dumb" Javier laughed

"I am not-" he scowled

"Arthur I think it's obvious to just about everyone...except you" Lenny pointed at him

"Clearly! What is all this about" Arthur yelled back, starting to feel the heat creep up his cheeks

"The new girl!, it's been so obvious that you're sweet on her from the moment she stepped into camp" Sean boomed and Arthur had never wished more that he had left him there in Blackwater.

"Yeah from what I've heard" Micah slimy voice creeped up from behind him, Arthur had hoped he had left the fire by that point but clearly he intended to stick around, it made his skin crawl "you've always had a thing for those...high society types"

"Now what the hell is that supposed mean" Arthur whipped around to face him, frustration and embarrassment starting to boil over

"If you can't figure it out, I'm not telling" John said in a somewhat half hearted attempt to take the pressure off of Arthur.

....

'Stupid Micah' he thought to himself as he hitched his horse outside the grand entry way and made his way to the door

You say in probably the most lavish yet uncomfortable chair imaginable. You were surrounded by frivolous decor that only seemed to become more ridiculous the longer you stared. For the past 20 minutes you had been getting a lecture on how "your parent's death was no excuse for you to fall in with people like that" you couldn't help but roll your eyes. You didn't see these rich assholes gunning to take you in when your life had practically been turned upside down and now they thought they had the right to tell you how to live your life?

Just the thought made you want to hurl. You dig your fingers impossibly further into the chair's scratchy fabric.

"We think it might be best to send you somewhere back out east" the old prudes voice was clear and sharp yet you could barely hear her over the ringing in your ears.

What you wouldn't give to be back in camp right now. Surrounded by people whom actually cared for you. Back in camp with Arthur playing a game of poker or having him teach you how to shoot. Those strong hands of his always so gentle as he guided your hands to face the target. Anything but here.

Just then there was a loud knock on the front door. Hope filled your heart, you jumped up but before you could move another inch,

"You sit yourself back down now young lady, I'll check the door" the old hag said with a demeaning tone, excusing herself, giving a look to one of her servants to keep an eye on you so you didn't bolt, it wouldn't have been your first attempt. You decided to stay put and play the waiting game. She left to open the front door and though you couldn't see past the corner you heard everything.

"And who might you be?"

"Ma'am I- I heard that you might have a- a young lady staying with you at this particular time" your heart soared hearing Arthur's voice and you couldn't contain the small smile forming on your lips as you heard his attempt at "proper speech".

"And what concern would that be of yours" she bit back

"Well ya see, it would be greatly appreciated if you would allow me to speak to her for jus' a moment theres something I need to tell 'er" obviously sensing the woman's appreciation he continued "I- I don't mean no harm by it or nothin we'll stay right here on the porch"

"Stay here" the older woman quipped

You heard her steps approach the living room once more

"Young lady there is a very scary looking man here to see you" she stated, the look of disgust eminent on her face

You practically shot up from your seat and without another word, ran around the hallway before throwing open the front door.

You were just so relieved to see a friendly face and especially relieved it was the face of the man who brought you the most comfort anyone possibly could. Without thinking you threw yourself onto him.

Arthur stumbled back slightly, not due to the impact, he was plenty strong enough to handle that, but from surprise that you were clinging to him in the first place.

"Oh god Arthur you have no idea how happy I am to see you"

"Likewise" he smiled, awkwardly steadying himself and settling on letting his arms awkwardly pat your back. Though this moment of triumph was soon interrupted by a sharp "ahem" of the adjacent doorway.

Arthur awkwardly, yet incredibly gently pushed you away.

"Would you mind explaining this" the old woman questioned, gesturing to the both of you.

Your mind raced, based on their previous dialogue Arthur clearly had no plan of how to get out of here (that didn't involve shooting someone) so you had to think fast and your mind settled on the first believable thing you were sure she would buy.

"This is- um my...my husband! Arthur Callahan" you said quickly.

He turned to look at you with a confused expression to which you discreetly slapped his leg in an attempt to get him to play along. He got the message.

"Yes, I am an er...oil tycoon who was up 'round these parts on important business"

"Are you really now?" She said looking less than convinced "And who were those rough looking men?"

"They were... employees of Arthur's!" You quickly lied, god this was not going well but she seemed to start to buy it as you spent the next couple minutes answering her scores of questions.

"Yes I had them accompany her while she was out shopping and I was meeting with some... local officials" he had his hands awkwardly clasped in front of him as he rocked back and forth slightly. What could have gotten him so shaken up? I mean this whole situation was less than ideal but he was an outlaw, used to lying and cheating his way out of things, why was this time any different?

"And actually we need to catch a train in..." you felt around for a nonexistent pocket watch

Arthur picked up your slack and pulled out his "look at the time! 10 minutes we best be going!"

"Alright just stay out of trouble you hear!" She called, clearly glad to have you out of her hair and as far as she knew, not soiling her reputation.

You quickly made your way to Arthur's horse, "Married? really?" he questioned as he helped you onto his horse. "I mean if ya wanted to cook for me or somethin ya coulda just asked" he joked in an attempt to deflect his embarrassment that would have been clear to anybody except you.

"It was all I could think of!" You said exasperatedly throwing your hands up, he couldn't help but smile at how you had slowly and subconsciously began to imitate his mannerisms.

"Let's just get ya back to camp"

After a long but comfortable silence on the way back to Clemen's point you looked down at your hands,

"Thank you, thank you Arthur" you started "you're real sweet comin to get me like that, I don't know what I would have done without you. You gotta be...well... the best man I know" you chuckled

That would do it for him

his heart fluttered a bit , He coughed and quickly recovered "I know the company you keep little lady the competition ain't too fierce" he laughed pulling his hat down to hide his face

"Oh hush now" your chuckled, tentatively leaning your head to rest against his back

That settled it alright, he wasn't letting anybody take you from him ever again

#nooo Arthur Morgan don't fall in love with me noooo #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 fandom #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 x you #rdr2 fanfic #rdr #arthur morgan smut #rdr1 #text post meme

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wenellyb · 7 months ago

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9-1-1 Season 7 Episode 4: Was Buck lying when he said he was trying to get Tommy's attention?

I'm a little frustrated about the people who said that Buck was lying when he said he was trying to get Tommy's attention because according to them, he was trying to get Eddie's attention not Tommy's, and the argument they use is the gym scene...

I'm frustrated because I want to ask them: "Have you guys never watched a TV show, ever?"

TV showrunners have different way of structuring their episodes, some episodes are set up to be emotionnal, some are set up to be dramatic or romantic, some are heavy on the action scenes and some are meant to get a surprised reaction by introducing a plot twist the audience didn't see coming. It can be a big plot twist like the finale of the 1st season of the Good Place or it can be a smaller one like in this episode of 911.

And whenever they want to set up a plot twist, the writers will put small hints along the way, that are not obvious right away but will contribute to the "ah" moment when everything clicks into place after the plot twist is finally revealed.

The whole point of the episode was for people to think Buck was trying to get Eddie's attention because he was jealous of his best friend spending time with someone else and BAM, it's revealed that in fact it was the "someone else" Buck had been interested in all along.

And if you look closely, there are clues throughout the episode showing that it was about Tommy all along.

1. Buck asking Tommy for a tour.

At first we think that Buck was just testing the waters and thinking about switching jobs but at the end of the episode Buck reveals it's because he was trying to get Tommy's attention.

Moreover, a lot of people assume Buck was disappointed because Tommy left with Eddie and he was jealous about Eddie. But if you pay attention, Buck's smile drops the moment Tommy turns him down for drinks, and that was even before he saw Eddie in the car.

2. Buck's rant to Maddie

Buck was complaining about Eddie spending time with Tommy and even going to a basketball game with him.

And later when he talked to Maddie after accident accidentally injuring Eddie, he admitted he did it because he felt left out and was trying to get "his" attention.

But in retrospective, he never specified who he was trying to get attention from. He could have meant Eddie or Tommy.

And it's confirmed that he was indeed talking about Tommy when he says this.

3. The gym scene

We all assumed Buck was trying to get Eddie's attention when he was at the gym because he wanted to spend more time with him. But if Buck had wanted to hang out with Eddie, he would have just asked, they're best friends. Buck ordered the basket Ball because he wanted to be invited to the basketball game because Tommy would be there. Same for the karaoke. Buck never had a problem with asking Eddie to hang out, the only differentiating factor here is Tommy.

Why would Buck suddenly be so awkward around Eddie? He was trying to get an invite so he could see and when it didn't work he asked Chimney.

4. The basketball game

Buck admitted that he accidentally hurt Eddie because he was trying to get Tommy's attention.

5. The "big reveal"

Up until the very end of the episode we were made to believe Buck was being jealous of his best friend having a new best friend.

Even Tommy thought so.

It's not until Buck reveals he wanted to get to know Tommy and was trying to get his attention that everything clicks into place for the audience and we understand why Buck was acting like that.

We weren't watching someone being jealous over his best friend spending time with someone else but someone acting like a fool because he had a crush.

TL:DR: Buck was trying to get Tommy's attention all along. The show just set up the episode in a way that would lead to a plot twist, a "big" reveal and a romantic kiss.

What do you guys think? Was Buck trying to get Eddie's attention as well?

#the good place spoilers #911 spoilers #this isn't anti Buddie btw.... I'm just talking about episode 7x04 specifically not the whole show #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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cpvnksabm · 27 days ago

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hey rtc fandom. i think that the disability rep in RTC is flawed, and it was even before the disability-erasing script changes. however, recently i've felt that a lot of the fandom's criticisms of the disability rep are made by people who aren't knowledgeable about neuromuscular disorders or about disability in general. i sometimes feel people are accidentally speaking over me here, and i wanted to explain some of my thoughts as a disabled fan.

Misconception: "it doesn't make sense for Ricky to be both nonverbal and need mobility aids, those are completely separate disabilities". Reality - while it's entirely possible for someone to just have two unrelated disabilities, there are disorders that cause both difficulty speaking/inability to speak and mobility impairments. Ricky likely has dysarthria, the medical term for difficulty speaking, caused by a neuromuscular disorder. Ricky's disability is canonically degenerative and affects his whole body, it makes sense for his mouth and throat (which he speaks with) to be part of that.

Misconception: "ricky just has a mystery disease with no specified details", (often coming with: "so you can give him whatever disability you want in fanworks".) Reality - canon explicitly states that Ricky has a rare degenerative disease. This causes him to use mobility aids and be unable to talk. It is heavily implied to be a neuromuscular disease. It is also outright stated to be lifespan limiting. These are all canon facts and it is not appropriate to erase them, even if you still give him a disability.

Misconception: "WTWN was problematic because Ocean said ableist things" Reality - Okay, different disabled people have different thoughts on this - ableism is a very real and personal subject for most of us, we will generally have strong opinions about it shaped by our experiences. With that said, people in real life say the same things Ocean says in her song. And many of them seem like good and caring people, just like Ocean does! I don't think it's wrong to represent that in media - I think showing Ricky's experiences with ableism is part of showing Ricky's disabled experiences. I definitely have criticisms around the way Ocean's ableism was handled - and other disabled people will have other criticisms. But if my opinion counts for anything, I am disabled and I never want the ableist lines in WTWN to be cut.

Misconception: "it was weird / didn't make sense for Ricky to refer to his crutches by name" Reality - this is extremely common in real life, actually! My mobility aids have names. I know many people who name their mobility aids. Not all disabled people do this, obviously, but it's not particularly weird for Ricky to.

Misconception: "RTC removed the scene where ricky concedes and his disability" / "removing the 'ricky concedes' scene was part of the ableist script changes" Reality - the "Ricky concedes" scene was removed sometime between 2016 and 2018 (unsure on exact date), before Ricky's disability was removed in 2022. I often see people conflating the removal of Ricky conceding with the removal of Ricky's disability, and I honestly find this a little disrespectful. The 2022 script changes were extremely ableist, whereas the earlier script changes weren't about Ricky's disability and certainly weren't with intent to erase it - in fact, I think it's possible that Ricky conceding was removed to be more respectful to disabled people. I might fully explain my thoughts on this at some point, but overall, I am in favour of Ricky's conceding being removed - I'm also willing to agree to disagree on this, because the issue is less about disability representation and more just about Ricky's characterisation & the plot of the musical. Please do not say this script change was ableist.

Please make sure your criticisms of RTC's disability rep are well-researched and coming from a place of understanding. Please make sure you're not speaking over disabled people to say what we think is problematic. Please make sure your attempts at "fixing" canon's disability rep isn't just making it worse - how would you feel if someone "fixed" a depiction of your life experiences, by completely changing it to something they feel is more appropriate to depict?

Thanks for reading!

#rtc fandom #ricky potts #ricky rtc #ricky potts rtc #richard potts #save ricky potts #ricky potts ride the cyclone #ride the cyclone #rtc #ride the cyclone fandom #ricky ride the cyclone #harper explains

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idcallmyselfhuman · 1 year ago

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XiaoAether Masterlist 👹⛅

Edit: version 2.0 here

Or, every XiaoAether moment that I can remember (and an attempt to organize them)

Starting this off with the one scene that made us all go "wait a fucking minute" at the very start of the game,

Battle of Osial

Aether's feet were already steadied. Xiao could've let go, or let him fall as gracefully as Mountain Shaper did to that guard (I would've hated him forever) but considering that he insists that being near mortals is such a biiiig no-no, he could have, but he didn't. No, even more, he fucking tightened his hold.

Teyvat Food Notes (Sweet Dream, Adeptus' Temptation and Satisfying Salad)

Next! The promotionals during Xiao's release as a playable character. Specifically, Teyvat Food Notes. To celebrate his release, they made an Almond Tofu + Sweet Dream Food blog.

Note: Both google translate and Papago seem to use Mandrill instead of Xiao, so... just know that's who it's talking about.

This is where we learn that Xiao didn't even make "Sweet Dream"; this dish was Aether's thank you gift to him. Xiao's specialty dish is a gift from Aether. I'm- agh. ANYWAY.

We actually also see Sweet Dream in Childe's birthday art. And I'm really sorry to Tartaglia but seeing it stole all his thunder. I could not get over it.

I like to think Aether was so busy making Childe food that he absentmindedly started preparing Almond Tofu in the way he's used to (because of how often Xiao requests it :'> ).

Just when I thought that was it for the Teyvat Food Notes and I could've moved on, I found this in the Adeptus' Temptation food note; the one they made for the first Lantern Rite.

Note: "Fairy/Buddha Jump over the Wall" is apparently an actual Chinese delicacy that the Adeptus' Temptation is based on!

I found this part really cute, especially right now because of the poetry event. Since the beginning, Aether's always known that Xiao was capable of being poetic, it just took them being close and his encouragement for Xiao to actually make a poem.

Lastly, Aether's Satisfying Salad. This isn't connected to the food blog this time (since that one's for Mona), but rather, this and Almond Tofu are the first dishes Aether has ever given Xiao in the game. I included this despite it being pretty minor because in Moonlight Merriment, Smiley Yanxiao actually brings this up again.

Smiley Yanxiao: The boss told me to take care of him, but this guy, let me tell you - he is one tough nut to crack. He usually turns his nose up at everything that isn't Almond Tofu.

Xiao willingly ate something that wasn't Almond Tofu because... because what, it was given to him by a cute blonde traveler? The jury's still out on that one.

Lantern Rite 1.3, Baizhu Story Quest

I'm sure we're already familiar with this scene, right?

The very first time Xiao promised Aether that no matter what, as long as he calls his name, he'll be there. Right after that was Moonlight Merriment, where the game literally specifies that Xiao made that promise just for Aether. Way to make your commitment subtle.

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Ah, Xiao, you're so easy... Of course, this wouldn't be the last time that Aether calls for him and Xiao arrives immediately. This also happened during Baizhu's story quest to, yet again, the astonishment of everyone around excluding these two. (Xiao's dedication is one of a kind)

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Xiao worries over Aether often, despite knowing that they're both formidable in their own right. I also think it's sweet how every time they meet, Xiao's departing words are always a reminder to call for him whenever needed, to the point where there are times that Aether just goes "Yeah, we know." before he can even finish the sentence.

Unfortunately, though, there is one time where Xiao failed to reach Aether when he called him, but only because he physically wasn't able to.

Perilous Trail (Interlude)

The only thing that prevented this man from getting to Aether like always was being in a different plane of existence. Romeo and Juliet wish they were this romantic istfg

Aether: Come find us.

Xiao: No.

Yanfei: But Aether's in trouble!

Xiao: How do we meet?

Now where else did someone pull this tactic recently-

...Again, XIAO YOU ARE SO EASY. But anyway, back to the Chasm bc I wasn't quite done with that-

As soon as Yanfei tells Aether that Xiao is awake, Ae comes running. Just full on "stop saying you're fine i'll be the judge of that"

And he looks so angry when Xiao brings up writing a will. augguh they are sooooo- (i would put a reaction pic here if i didn't have an IMAGE LIMIT fuck tumblr bro)

To finish off the Chasm Interlude on a more serious note, this entire conversation was really touching, and I love seeing the progress these two have made over the years. Xiao letting himself open up with Aether's help year by year is one of my favorite things about this game.

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Teapot and Character Voice Lines + Birthday Letters

For the first and second Lantern Rite, Xiao was still adamant on not even stepping foot in Liyue Harbor, declining every invitation to go there because of how much he disliked being near mortals.

Yet in his teapot voicelines, once you reach a high enough friendship with him, Xiao actually takes the initiative to invite Aether to go to the city, if only to understand him better. Xiao explicitly says that his willingness to go to the harbor was for him.

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More About Xiao I: I'm willing to protect you.But don't think about getting close, and stay out of my way, or all that awaits you is regret.

More About Xiao V: It's too late. The connection between us is too strong. Even if you wanted to, it's too late to sever it. Hm? You've never thought to sever it?

About Shenhe: It seems Shenhe places a great deal of trust in you. Well, how could she not. There are few people in the world as kind and good-natured as you.

Shenhe, About Xiao: My first impression of him was that he's not one to smile. After meeting him again more recently, however, he's still as reserved as ever, but… he seems a lot more relaxed now. Maybe he… met someone special.

That line by Shenhe made me happy. Aether's effect on Xiao benefitted not only him, but the people surrounding Xiao as well. We even see that in his birthday letters, where at the most recent one, he follows Ae's advice and goes to spend time with old friends.

They're also all just insanely romantic, I feel like that goes without saying. Every year, I wonder how Genshin would possibly top the one before it that isn't just an explicit confession of undying love.

Lantern Rite '23

I'm here to remind you all of a beautiful scene that should never be forgotten for years to come.

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Regardless of Genshin trying to be mysterious and making us guess who saved Aether, the fact that they both came rushing over is incredible on its own. They know that Aether isn't a damsel in distress, and Paimon's acting was so on the nose, but they still couldn't allow even the slightest possibility of harm to come to him.

Xiao looking away and talking in circles just to say he really was worried is the funniest fucking thing.

For the Lantern Rite event itself, if you've read this far in, you're probably already familiar. I really wish there wasn't an image limit because I have so many screenshots I want to put in here. If you want a refresher, watch this and start around the 2-hour mark

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I wanted to put my own video in the post but you can only put one :/// I'm fist fighting whoever put these limits. 1 video file and 30 images? who are you

BACK TO THE TOPIC

There really isn't much I could say that I haven't already said before. For XiaoAether shippers, this was hoyo spoonfeeding content on a silver spoon. It's Aether and Xiao at their most comfortable with each other, talking and spending time with the people they care about. It's Aether fulfilling his end of the bargain of bailing Xiao out of uncomfortable social situations, because if you haven't noticed throughout all of these examples (or even outside of that), Aether is so perceptive when it comes to the comfort of the people around him.

This was also the event where we find out that for Xiao, the most distinguished guest in his eyes was Aether (Even though Ae thought he was going to say Zhongli..)

I have a lot of love for this event. But since this isn't just a lantern rite post, I'll move on.

Waterborne Poetry

The catalyst for this post. The reminder of how lovely this ship is, and how far these two have come.

As we have all learned from Xiangling, Yanfei, Venti and Hu Tao, you only need to mention Aether's name to convince Xiao of whatever it is you're planning. The part where Aether and Team Chongyun were trying to convince him to come with them and touch some fucking grass was really cute.

This event and the previous Lantern Rite also had Aether and Xiao talking privately, only to get interrupted by Paimon/Xiangling (as well as calling them out lmao)

And, of course, the scene that everyone freaked out over,

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This. I don't think I'll ever get over this.

The fact that they had Zach voice this- A short, but sweet moment where Aether looks at Xiao from afar and immediately gets inspired, performing a poem where the real meaning is shared only between the two of them...

And Xiao's smile.

An expression that Aether had done so well to bring out.

2023 was the year of XiaoAether. Thank you, Hoyo.

Done! I HAVE SO MANY SCREENSHOTS AND I COULDN'T EVEN USE MOST OF THEM ToT. I actually had clips that I edited but Tumblr said no. Good thing there's YouTube.

Another reason as to why I made this was because some shippers said that XiaoAe didn't make sense because it lacked depth and I was so affronted by it that I did all this out of spite (and love for these characters. mostly love.)

#Youtube #genshin impact #genshitpost #genshin impact aether #genshin impact xiao #xiaoaether #xiaother #xiao x aether

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petew21-blog · 7 days ago

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Second hand cigar

Halloween has passed, but some parties still had a costume party theme. For example Travis here, a very queer, blonde hair guy unable to find a good last minute costume. His queer friends specified, that it must be something straight-looking, destroying all his plans to go as one of his gay icons.

His look - bleached hair, round colourful glasses and his noticeable gay mannerisms complicated this task.

Travis decided to get inspired in the city, heading to the second hand costume thrift store. He dismissed the idea of going as someone in a uniform, revealing his chest, he was so shy about. The thrift shop manager came to assist him. Before he did, Travis noticed his homophobic looks he gave him, but decided not to make a scene. He really needed the costume.

The manager handed him a biker shirt. "Try it out. I got some other stuff here for you, that would fit you." Travis went to the booth to try it out. He took off his clothes, avoiding the mirror. The shirt slipped right on him, fitting him perfectly. Travis looked back at himself. "I feel so weird, egh. Straight people really have a weird taste."

Suddenly a hand moved the curtain. "It comes with a beanie, jeans and a jacket, I will get it ready for you, before you leave."

Travis felt a weird impulse in his head to take the hat from the guy. He put it on him.

Manager:"You look much better now, sir."

Travis felt as if his confidence was boosted somehow. He felt really good. But it scared him. He wanted to take off his new clothes to return them, but the manager noticed. "No, don't. I want you to have it."

Travis:"I... thank you. I don't know if this is the right fit."

Manager:"I'm sure it is. In fact, I think you look so good in it, I want you to keep it. Free of charge."

Travis struggled a bit financialy, so the fact that he wouldn't have to pay made him feel a bit calmer. "Really? Thank you so much."

They went to the cashier. Travis felt more and more confident in his new clothes. He didn't even notice, that he left his glasses in the booth.

Manager:"Ok, here is a bag for you. Oh, I see you're getting comfortable in your new outfit." manager pointed at Travis's hand in his pants

Travis was shocked to find his hand there, he didn't even notice that he did so. Actually he normally never would have done this. "I am so sorry, sir. I am not really sure what's happening to me right now."

Manager:"You're feeling great in your new costume. That's what this is. Ok, this should be all and you're set to go. By the way, I left a bit of a gift in the jacket for you to use later."

Travis thanked the manager and left the shop. He was so taken back by the fact that he was acting differently. He wasn't sure why, but there was no time to worry about that. There was a party he had to get to.

He threw the jacket in the backseat and sat in his car. He took off his new hat, but another shocked awaited him. "What the fact?! What happened to my hair?!?" his blonde hair turned to its original brunette. But that was not the only thing that changed, his beard grew a bit, giving him a scruffy look.

Travis looked at himself. If he wanted to pass as a straight biker, this would definitely be a good look for him. He didn't want to admit that out loud, but he kind of liked the new look, that the clothes gave him.

He remember the gift, the manager mentioned. He looked through the pockets of the jacket and found a few cigars. "What should I even do with this? I don't smoke..."

He played with the cigar in his hand and looked at his reflection. He placed it in his mouth and looked again. "Oh this looks even better. I'm gonna have the best costume out of all of them." he found a lighter in the same pocket a spontaneously light it.

Travis sat there, enjoying himself. The smoke filling his lungs and the car, the ash falling on his lap. He felt amazing. He didn't look like a fag anymore. He was a man now. Wait. Did he really think that about himself? What about his crush? His crush was a man. But he looked so much better as a biker now than before.

He looked at himself in his camre. He loved his new look. He wanted to be more and more confident. He loved this new rush that the clothes gave him. Maybe if he wore the jacket, he would feel complete. A proper MAN.

Travis reached to the back, the cigar still in his mouth. The jacket smelled like an ollder musky man. Travis was hard now. He was about to wear some other man's clothes. He was gonna be in the clothes that another man was.

The jacket was on and Travis was finally happy. His look was complete. Screw the party. He should be in a bar showing himself off to other people.

But while those tiny transformation took place, something else was happening. Travis didn't notice, that his will was weaker, someone wanted to have a turn in the spotlight. To control this new straight biker body. Travis, drunk by the confidence just simply let go. The force didn't feel dangerous, no. Something that made him feel this good wanted to enjoy the goods too.

Travis closed his eyes, but someone else opened them instead. An ominous gold glow appeared in Travis's eyes for a second.

"Daddy's home." the stranger said in Travis's voice making his voice sound deeper than before. He gave the cigar a large puff and then exhaled.

The stranger immediately grabbed his bulge.

"The fuck... he could have picked a better one. Mine was bigger." he looked at his reflection now.

"Not bad. Gonna give you some improvements and maybe I could keep being you."

Travis's body dialed a phone number. The name of the costume shop appeared above it.

"Hey, guess who's back?!"

Manager:"Finally. I wasn't sure he wouldn't throw the clothes away."

Stranger:"What happened to the original plan, huh? You promised me a hot jock to turn into a biker. This one looks like a fairy."

Manager:"He is one. But that makes it even better, right? We'll get to cancel out some votes as well. Anyway, go to my appartement. The rest of your stuff is still there."

Stranger:"Thank you, brother!"

2 weeks later

Travis was long gone. Or at least that's what Travis's friends told each other. It was something they told themselves to ignore the fact, that their originally queer friend was now a MAGA supporter and a cigar smoking, biker.

Fuck, Travis even changed his looks completely. Whatever happened to him changed him completely. He was now walking shirtless in a vest, very openly showing off his hairy chest, he shaved his head and even gave himself a goatee.

Meanwhile, Dale was now living his second chance at life. His brother helped him get a new body and turn it into a better version of him. He was happy to smoke cigars again, taste alcohol and fuck pussy as he did in his life before. So yeah, fuck the old Travis. Life is amazing!

A story for @hypnosmoke420 with his own original photos. How cool is that? :D

#male transformation #gay transformation #clothes transformation #face transformation #ghost possession #possession male #male possession #body possession #straight to gay #gay to straight

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oceandolores · 30 days ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 17

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"If he's a serial killer, then what's the worst That could happen to a girl who's already hurt?"

summary: joel went back to town for help

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 17

masterlist!

previous | chapter 16

next | chapter 18

Joel sat in the dimly lit truck, gripping the steering wheel as his mind raced. Every passing motel sign felt like a twisted beacon of hope, and yet, nothing—just more dead ends.

He couldn’t stop.

The thought of you out there, taken, in some nightmare he couldn't quite piece together, was enough to drive him insane. He didn't know who this man was, didn't know his name, but Joel remembered the handwriting—he'd seen it in guest books at motels, on receipts left behind, under fake names, always a step ahead.

He slammed his fist into the dashboard, frustration bubbling inside him, pulling him under like a riptide.

The FBI was after him, every second ticking down like a clock he couldn't stop. Joel had become the face of a crime he didn't commit, and now the world believed he was the monster. His brother Tommy had no idea about the depth of this nightmare, and Joel wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep that secret.

Ellie kept calling, desperate to find him, but he couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t risk it—not when the only thing that mattered now was finding you. The guilt gnawed at him like a relentless beast. He couldn’t protect you. He had failed. But he wouldn't let it end here.

Hotel after hotel, state after state—the same fluorescent vacancy signs blinking back at him, taunting him like the glow of distant stars that could never be reached.

He had been here with you, in these places, laughing in the safety of their anonymity. But now, those memories had turned to ash in his hands. Every room felt hollow, stripped of meaning, just like the heart inside his chest.

The guest books were all the same—fake names, neat handwriting, the kind that made Joel’s skin crawl with recognition. The bastard was mocking him, leaving a breadcrumb trail that twisted and turned like a sick game of cat and mouse.

And Joel, in his desperation, was losing—losing time, losing you.

Two weeks had passed since you were taken, and each second since felt like it carved another piece from his soul. His temper flared now—small arguments turning into wild eruptions with motel clerks who wouldn’t let him see the guest books.

More than once, his hand found itself tangled in the collar of some poor receptionist’s shirt, his voice hoarse, demanding, begging for information. Every time, he had to stop himself, had to remember that he was a fugitive. That the world had turned against him.

Disguises, fake hats, beards—he did what he could to move undetected. But he couldn’t hide from himself. The nightmares came every night, slithering into his dreams like poison, filling him with scenes of you screaming, of blood, of hands he couldn’t reach.

He drowned it out the only way he knew how—pills, whiskey, whatever he could find. His body was exhausted, his mind unraveling thread by thread, as the days bled into each other.

And then the questions started, sharp and relentless, piercing his already fraying sanity. What if you weren’t taken? What if you had seen the news about him? What if you knew everything—Ben, Jamie, the blood on his hands—and you ran? Fled from him, from the monster he had become.

His heart clenched at the thought, a black hole opening in his chest. No. He couldn’t believe that. You wouldn’t. But the thought twisted inside him, planting seeds of doubt he couldn’t shake.

Was it safe to go back? Could he risk returning to town, even in secret, just to see Tommy? To beg for help? But would you be there? What if you were hiding from him? The questions swarmed like locusts in his mind, buzzing louder and louder until he couldn’t think. He had to go back.

***

Ellie slammed her fists on the table, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Tell me where the fuck he is, Tommy. I need to see him.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. His hands rubbed his temples as he tried to keep his composure. “Ellie, I don’t know where he is.”

“You lied!” Ellie snapped, her eyes wide with disbelief. “He’s out there, hunted, I need to find him!”

“I said I don’t know, Ellie!” Tommy barked back, his voice strained with frustration. “We were supposed to meet in Miami, before all this shit happened. But now? I don’t know where the hell he is.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Ellie’s voice trembled with anger and fear, her fists clenched tight at her sides. “You know something. You have to.”

“Ellie, stop!” Tommy’s voice cracked, the weight of the argument pressing hard against him. His eyes were bloodshot, tired, and filled with a desperation he hadn’t shown before. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

Maria stepped in between them, her voice a soft but firm plea for calm. “Both of you, stop. This isn’t helping. We need to think straight about this.”

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken fears. Ellie turned away, frustrated, pacing the living room like a caged animal. She had been staying with Tommy and Maria since Joel had vanished, their home feeling more like a prison with each passing day.

That night, the house was quiet. Tommy and Maria were asleep, their babyboy, Luke, stirring occasionally in his crib. But Maria heard something.

A noise—a creak in the floorboards that didn’t belong. She slipped out of bed, moving with the cautious grace of a mother on high alert. She headed to the kitchen to prepare formula for Luke, but then… she heard it again.

Her heart raced, fear crawling up her spine. Was it a burglar? An intruder? She called out for Tommy, but no answer. Grabbing Tommy’s golf club, Maria moved carefully down the hallway, her knuckles white around the handle.

And then a hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream.

“Shh.”

She froze.

The hand let go, and she spun around, her heart pounding in her chest. “Joel?!”

Joel’s face was gaunt, shadowed by exhaustion, his eyes sunken deep into his skull. He held his hands up, trying to calm her, but Maria’s body shook with shock and fear.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she hissed, backing away slowly, the club still in her grip. The news reports about Joel raced through her mind—murder, fugitives, everything. She had seen him as family once, but now… she wasn’t sure.

“Maria, please,” Joel whispered, desperation seeping into his voice. “I need to talk to Tommy.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Maria’s voice was small now, shaking. “I—" she looked down the hall toward the bedrooms, fear clutching her chest.

“I didn’t do it,” Joel said, stepping closer, his voice low, almost pleading. “I didn’t kill the Gibsons. I swear it.”

Maria swallowed hard, her eyes wide with disbelief. “But you killed the pastor. And the boy.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with a storm of emotions. “I had to. I had to get rid of them to protect her.”

Maria took another step back, her body trembling. Joel could see the fear in her eyes—she was afraid of him now, the weight of his actions hanging between them like a noose.

“Please, Maria,” Joel whispered. “I need to talk to Tommy.”

Tommy awoke to the sound of Maria’s voice, low and strained. He stumbled out of bed, heading toward the kitchen, his heart sinking when he saw who was there.

“Joel? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Joel’s head snapped up, his face a mask of desperation and grief. “Tommy… I need your help. She’s gone.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, gone?”

Joel’s voice broke as he stepped forward, his hands trembling. “She’s been taken. I—I don’t know what to do.”

Tommy stared at his brother, his eyes wide with disbelief. Joel stood before him like a ghost—hollow, ragged, a shadow of the man he once knew. His face was drawn, eyes sunken with sleepless nights and too much whiskey.

His clothes hung off him, sweat-stained and worn, like they had been clinging to him for days. Tommy could hardly recognize the man in front of him. His brother was now a broken mess, standing on the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go but down.

“Come on,” Tommy muttered, glancing back at Maria, who was still clutching Luke protectively. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”

Maria nodded nervously, holding Luke tighter against her chest, and Tommy led Joel into the living room, the air thick with tension. Once they were alone, Tommy turned to face his brother, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with restrained fury.

“What the fuck, Joel? What have you done?”

Joel’s hands shook as he rubbed his face, his mind racing, searching for words that made sense. But nothing about this made sense anymore. “I didn’t… I didn’t kill the Gibsons. Tommy, I swear to God—someone’s trying to trap me.”

Tommy’s heart raced, every fiber of him wanting to believe his brother, but the weight of everything he’d heard pressed against his chest like a stone. “Trap you? You expect me to believe that? You fucking killed the pastor, Joel! You killed the boy!”

Joel flinched as if Tommy’s words were a physical blow, his shoulders slumping under the guilt he carried like a cross. He looked down at the floor, his voice cracking. “I didn’t have a choice, Tommy. I had to protect her.”

Tommy's stomach churned as he stared at Joel, disgust twisting in his gut. “You had to? Had to what? What the fuck does that mean?” He felt betrayed, a deep wound splitting his chest open. “You lied to me, Joel. You lied to me.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and he lifted his gaze, his eyes bloodshot and full of desperation. “I did it for her. I had to get rid of them to keep her safe.”

Tommy’s head pounded, his world spinning. “Keep her safe? You think killing people is keeping her safe?” His voice rose, barely contained, anger flooding his veins like wildfire.

“The fucking FBI is after you, Joel! Do you understand that? The FBI!” He was yelling now, his words slamming into the walls of the room, reverberating like a storm.

Joel clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "I know that! You think I don’t know how bad it is? I didn’t want this, Tommy, but I’m trying—”

“Trying?!” Tommy cut him off, his voice laced with venom. “You fucking murdered people! And you’re telling me you’re trying?” His hands trembled as he stepped closer, his eyes burning with a mix of rage and sorrow.

Joel’s eyes were hollow, filled with an ocean of guilt he could no longer drown. He took a breath, but it came out ragged, as if the very act of breathing was becoming too much to bear.

“I know… I know I fucked up, Tommy.” His voice wavered, soft, broken. “But I need your help. I need to find her.”

Tommy’s heart twisted painfully. He could see the desperation in Joel’s eyes—the same eyes that had always watched out for him, always protected him.

But now, those eyes were clouded with something darker, something Tommy couldn’t reach. “You lost her?” Tommy’s voice was quiet now, raw with disbelief. “What do you mean you lost her?”

Joel’s hand pressed against his forehead as if he could somehow hold his mind together through sheer willpower. “She was taken. Two weeks ago. I don’t know where she is, and I’ve searched everywhere. I’m losing my mind, Tommy, and I need you to help me find her.”

Tommy stepped back, his hand running through his hair as the gravity of Joel’s words hit him. He had never seen his brother like this—not since Sarah, not since Jane. Back then, Joel had crumbled, but this... this was something worse.

The cracks were deeper now, like his soul was unraveling before Tommy's eyes, and every piece that fell apart took something vital with it. Tommy’s anger began to ebb, replaced by a gnawing worry.

“Joel…” Tommy’s voice softened, heavy with concern. “Tell me everything. What happened?"

Joel sat down heavily, his hands trembling as he reached into his jacket, pulling out a crumpled letter. His fingers, stiff and rough with callouses, were unsteady as he handed it to Tommy.

“This man… he’s been followin’ us. Watchin’ her. I didn’t notice at first, didn’t see it until it was too late.” His voice broke, thick with guilt. "I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve protected her better."

Tommy took the letter, unfolding it carefully, the paper soft with wear, the ink smudged from being handled so many times. As he read, the air in the room seemed to thicken, pressing in around him as the words sank into his chest like stones. The man’s words were obsessive, possessive. A predator circling his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“How the hell did you not notice you were bein’ followed?” Tommy’s voice was a low hiss, disbelief and frustration swirling in his mind. “How could you let this happen?”

Joel’s head dropped into his hands, his fingers gripping his hair tightly as if trying to hold himself together by sheer force. “I don’t know, Tommy. I don’t fucking know. I was tryin’—God, I was tryin’ to protect her, but I didn’t see him… didn’t know.” His voice cracked, and the weight of his own failure bore down on him, suffocating him.

“I can’t get them outta my head. The pastor, the boy… I see their faces every time I close my eyes. I did what I had to, but it’s like their ghosts are hauntin’ me. And now she’s gone, and I—"

Tommy's jaw tightened. Joel wasn’t just running from the law. He was running from himself, from the blood on his hands. The guilt was eating him alive, and now, with you gone, it was suffocating him. Tommy didn’t know if his brother could survive this one.

“We can’t go to the cops, Joel,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head. “They’re after you. You step one foot outside, and they’ll hunt you down. You’re a fugitive.”

Joel's eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, locked onto Tommy’s. "I don't care about me," he rasped. “I just need to find her. I can't lose her, Tommy. Not her too. If I lose her…” His voice faltered, and for a moment, he looked utterly broken.

“I can’t go through that pain again. I can't. It’ll kill me.” His voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Please, Tommy. Please help me.”

Tommy’s heart twisted. Joel had been strong his entire life, but this—this wasn’t strength. This was a man drowning, clutching at anything to keep himself from slipping under.

Before Tommy could say a word, the sound of footsteps echoed softly behind them. They both turned, and there she was.

“Joel?” Ellie stood in the doorway, her voice quiet but full of confusion. Her eyes were wide, full of questions she didn’t even know how to ask yet.

Ellie stood in the doorway, her small frame tense with confusion and concern, her eyes wide and full of unspoken questions that seemed to hang heavy in the air.

For a moment, neither Tommy nor Joel moved—until Ellie broke the silence, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around Joel. The reunion was wordless, raw, and desperate.

She was mad—furious, even—but beneath the anger was relief, deep and overwhelming. She clung to him like a lifeline, her face buried against his chest, and Joel felt the knot in his heart loosen, the guilt he had been carrying since the day he left her finally beginning to lift.

“Ellie…” His voice was rough, laden with everything he couldn’t say. His arms came around her, pulling her close as he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. She was here. Safe. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

Ellie pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “What the fuck, Joel?" Her voice cracked, caught between anger and the ache of missing him. "I thought something happened to you. I thought you were dead."

Joel closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back the wave of guilt that surged through him. He swallowed hard, the weight of what he had done pressing against his chest.

"I miss you every day. But I—" His voice faltered, thick with regret. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry I left you.

Ellie’s gaze softened, and the anger seemed to drain out of her. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, softer.

She hesitated, looking around the room as if searching for something. "Where is she?"

Joel’s heart sank, and he looked away, his jaw tightening. “She’s gone,” he whispered, the words like knives in his throat. “Someone took her.”

“What?” Ellie blinked in shock, her brows furrowing. "But… who? Her parents are dead. Joel—" She paused, her voice lowering. "Did you… did you kill them? Did you kill her parents?"

“No!" Joel's voice was sharp, defensive. "I didn’t kill her parents, Ellie. But I—" He hesitated, his throat tightening.

"You killed Ben and Jamie." Ellie said bluntly. There was a brief, Ellie stared at him, her expression unreadable for a moment, before she exhaled sharply.

“You had to,” she said, her tone flat but understanding. "You did what you had to do." Her words were blunt, as if she'd already accepted the brutal reality they lived in.

“They fucking deserved it.”

Joel nodded, the relief almost too much to bear. He’d been so afraid of losing her too, afraid she would look at him differently. But Ellie, somehow, understood. She always had.

Tommy finally spoke, stepping forward. "You can’t stay here, Joel. The cops are lookin’ for you. The FBI is breathin' down our necks. You stay here, and they’ll catch you. Worse than that, they’ll lock you up for life—if they don’t kill you first.”

“I know,” Joel muttered, his voice low, thick with frustration and dread. “I gotta find her. I have to.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, his mind working through the possibilities. “But we gotta be smart about it. No cops. I’ll handle the heat here, keep 'em off your trail, but you—” He pointed at Joel. “You need to figure out who the fuck took her. Any clues? Anythin’ at all?”

Joel’s head spun, trying to piece together the broken fragments of memory. Then, like a flash, it came to him—Chicago. The man, the one who had been following them.

He had seen him, once, back when you had met the man. "Chicago,"

"She tole me about him, I--I don't remember his name, I was too mad at her for talking to people," Joel murmured, his brow furrowing as the memory sharpened. "I gotta go back there."

Ellie, who had been standing quietly, suddenly cut in, her voice determined. “I’m coming with you.”

“No," Joel shook his head, his voice firm. “It’s too dangerous, Ellie. I can’t drag you into this.”

Tommy backed him up immediately. “He’s right, kid. You’re stayin’ here, with me and Maria. We’ll keep you safe.”

Ellie’s eyes flared with frustration, her voice sharp as she threw back Joel’s words. “Like hell I’m staying here, Joel! She’s my friend too! You think I’m just gonna sit around while you go off, risking your life? No fucking way. I’m coming with you. I don’t care what you say!”

Joel’s heart clenched at the fire in her, the same fierce, stubborn defiance that once belonged to Sarah. For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension, like the calm before a storm.

“You stay here, Ellie,” Joel said again, his tone cold, trying to distance himself from the heat of the moment. "You can’t come with me."

Ellie shook her head, her jaw tightening. “No, Joel! I’m not letting you—"

“Ellie!” Joel interrupted, his voice growing sharper. “Ellie, stay here! You need to listen to me.”

She was relentless, her words flying out faster than he could rein her in, her emotions flooding over her like a wave. "I’m not a kid anymore that you can just leave behind! I come with you!”

“Ellie. Ellie!” Joel’s voice started to crack under the weight of it, but she wouldn’t stop.

"Ellie! ELLIE, LISTEN TO ME!"

His shout echoed through the room like a gunshot, halting everything in its tracks. Even Tommy flinched. Ellie froze, her wide eyes finally settling on Joel’s face, the sheer force of his voice cutting through her resolve.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy, and suffocating, like the air had been knocked from the room. Ellie’s breath hitched, her defiance faltering as she saw the raw fear in Joel’s eyes—the kind of fear she hadn’t seen since the days they fought to survive together.

Joel exhaled, his voice softer now but broken, each word trembling on the edge of his guilt and his need to protect her.

“I can’t risk you, Ellie. Not you. You stay here, with Tommy and Maria. I need you to be safe, I need you to be somewhere I know you won’t get hurt. If anything happens to you, I... I can't forgive myself. I can't lose you too, not after everything.” His words faltered, but they were laced with the kind of agony that made Ellie’s heart twist.

He took a step forward, his rough hand reaching out, but Ellie pulled back slightly, her face hardening again, though there was now a flicker of something else—something like fear.

"Tommy," Joel turned to his brother, his voice quieter now, as if every word was scraping at his throat, "keep her safe. If I... if I don’t make it back—”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Ellie’s voice was sharp again, her hands curling into fists. “You are coming back, Joel. Don’t give me this bullshit! You always come back to me!”

Joel looked at her, his expression full of something heavy and unspeakable. He took another step closer, and this time, when he reached for her, Ellie didn’t pull away.

“Listen to me, kiddo.” His voice was rough but tender, the words thick with a sorrow that Ellie had never heard before.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leavin’ you, for not bein’ the dad you needed. I know I’ve failed you in a lot of ways. But if something happens to me… if I don’t come back, you need to promise me somethin'. Don’t... don’t blame yourself. Don’t blame anyone. You need to keep going."

Ellie’s throat tightened, her breath coming out shaky. She shook her head. “No. No. You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Ellie,” Joel said, his voice cracking like a dam under too much pressure. “But this man—he’s dangerous. And I... I have to protect her. I have to protect you. And if I don’t—if I can’t, I need you to live. I need you to keep going.”

Ellie’s hands clenched tighter, and she felt the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. Her vision blurred, her heart hammering against her ribs. "You don’t get to do this," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You come back. You have to come back."

Joel cupped her face in his calloused hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears she didn’t realize had fallen. “I’ll try, kiddo. I swear. But if I don’t…” His voice broke completely, filled with the raw pain of a man who had lost too much. "If I don’t make it... I need you to be okay.”

The room felt suffocating, the gravity of the moment pulling them both into an abyss of uncertainty, where words like “promise” and “safe” were fragile, almost meaningless.

Ellie pressed her forehead against his chest, her fists clenching his shirt as if holding him tighter could stop the inevitable. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “Please don’t go.”

"Don't leave me, Joel."

Joel’s heart shattered into pieces in that moment, but he couldn’t show it. He couldn’t let her see just how terrified he was, how the thought of leaving her again felt like a death sentence. “I'm sorry,”

Her tears soaked into his shirt, silent but heavy, each drop a reminder of how much he had already failed her—and how much more he stood to lose.

Joel swallowed thickly, his grip on her tightening for a moment longer before he finally let go, stepping back. “I love you, kiddo. More than you’ll ever know.”

Ellie’s breath hitched, and she looked up at him, her eyes full of the kind of fear Joel wished he could take away. But he couldn’t. He could only hope that this wasn’t goodbye.

***

You don’t know where you are anymore. The days and nights blur together in the darkness, the air thick with the stench of rot and decay. It’s been weeks—maybe more, maybe less. Time doesn’t exist here. All you know is the basement—the cold, damp stone pressing into your skin, the stinging scent of mold in your nose, and the unbearable silence, only broken by the occasional scrape of his footsteps above. Negan.

He’s the one who took you.

You barely knew him, barely interacted with him. So why you? Why now? What had you ever done to catch his attention? The questions buzz around in your head like a swarm of wasps, painful and without answers.

The walls seem to close in on you, the darkness thickening with every second. And then you remember—Negan had come to your house once, a visitor to your father. He was "Mr. Smith," you remember his last name.

But you didn’t think anything of it then. Just another face, another stranger. But since that moment, he had been watching you.

Negan had stalked your every move, following you through the shadows like a predator sizing up its prey.

When he visits, he talks. Always talks. As if the sound of his own voice fills the silence. "You and that ol' man of yours... too busy wrapped up in your own little world, huh?" He chuckles, the sound rough and mocking. “Joel’s a damn fool. Thinkin’ he could protect you, thinkin’ he could keep you safe. Hell, he’s worse than I thought, fallin’ for a broken little thing like you.”

His words cut like shards of glass, and each time you hear them, they reopen wounds you’ve tried to keep hidden deep inside.

Negan paces the room, his boots echoing in the small space. “Joel thinks he’s clever, doesn’t he? Killin’ Ben and Jamie to keep you all for himself.” He laughs, dark and low, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the basement. “He’s too damn stupid to see what’s right in front of him. Me.”

The way he says it, the way his eyes linger on you, makes your skin crawl.

“He let his guard down,” Negan continues, crouching beside you. “And when he finally let you out of his sight? Well, sweetheart, that just made things a hell of a lot easier for me.”

You want to scream, to lash out, but you’ve barely eaten in days, and your body feels too weak to even stand. The cold stone beneath you feels like a cage, holding you captive as much as Negan’s gaze does.

“What do you want from me?” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath.

Negan tilts his head, a cruel smile pulling at his lips. “Want? Sweetheart, I don’t want anything from you.” He leans in, close enough that you can smell the stale scent of smoke and leather clinging to him. “I just want you. That’s it. You’re mine now.”

The bile rises in your throat at the possessiveness in his voice, the certainty in his eyes.

For the past few weeks, he’s tried to feed you, bringing down food that you refused to touch. You’d rather starve than accept anything from him. Negan would sigh and shake his head, annoyed but patient. "You need to eat, darling. Can’t have you wastin’ away on me."

His words feel wrong, as if there's something hidden beneath them, something dark that you can’t quite put your finger on. There's always a certain gleam in his eyes when he brings the food—like he’s savoring a secret that only he knows.

And then there’s the smell.

That unbearable, suffocating stench that lingers in the corners of the basement. It smells like death. Like something rotting. But when you ask him about it, Negan just laughs. "Basements get like that," he says with a shrug, but the way he says it, so casual, so dismissive—it only makes you more certain that something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

Sometimes, when the hunger gnaws at your insides, you almost consider taking a bite, but something deep inside you tells you not to trust it. Not to trust him. You’d rather die here, in the dark, than give him what he wants.

Negan crouches in front of you now, holding out a plate of food, his voice deceptively gentle. “You need to eat, darling. Can’t have you all weak and broken. I like my girls strong. Healthy.”

His words send a chill down your spine, and though you don’t know why yet, you can feel it—the creeping horror hiding just beneath the surface. There’s something wrong with the food, with him. Something monstrous, lurking in the shadows of his every word.

But what?

You swallow hard, shaking your head again, refusing the meal he offers. Negan’s smile tightens, but he doesn’t push. He never pushes. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he rises to his feet, looking down at you with that same dark amusement, like he’s playing a game only he knows the rules to.

“You’ll come around, sweetheart. One way or another.”

As he leaves, you’re left in the dark, your mind spinning, haunted by the rotting smell and the quiet, nagging fear that whatever is happening here is far worse than you could ever imagine.

The cold seeps into your bones, chilling you from the inside out, but it’s not just the temperature. It’s the gnawing fear, the isolation, the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

You can’t stop thinking about Joel. Where is he? Is he safe? Are the cops after him like Negan hinted? The thought tightens in your chest, like a vice slowly crushing your heart. You can barely believe that Joel—your Joel—killed Ben and Jamie. But as much as it shocks you, a part of you understands. He did it to protect you, didn’t he? The idea brings a strange comfort, a warmth amid the cold. Joel, with his strong hands and quiet resolve, would do anything to keep you safe. You liked that. You needed that.

But then, guilt slithers in, twisting and coiling itself around your thoughts. He did it because of you. Because you’re the one who caused all this. Joel shouldn’t have to bear the weight of it all. He can’t be the one to carry the consequences of what’s happened. You wonder if you’ve become a burden, dragging him into this nightmare where death and destruction seem to follow you both like shadows.

You think about the way he used to look at you, the way his rough exterior would soften just for you. His voice, gravelly but so full of warmth, whispers in your memory. You miss him, desperately. His touch, his scent, the quiet strength of his presence. It’s like a piece of you has been torn away, leaving you raw and bleeding, open to every cruel word Negan speaks, every cold gust of air in this filthy basement.

At night, when the world is silent and the shadows stretch long, you imagine Joel’s arms around you, holding you close like he did so many times before. You imagine his breath against your ear, telling you everything would be alright. You wish it were true. You wish Joel were here, with his fierce protectiveness and the way he could shield you from the world, even when it seemed like everything was falling apart.

But you are alone. Alone in the dark with nothing but the echo of your thoughts and the suffocating weight of fear. You’re terrified—terrified to death, even. And it feels like no one will ever find you, like no one will ever know the hell you’re living in. The walls around you seem to close in, and the only thing that keeps you from falling apart is the image of Joel’s face in your mind, his voice a faint whisper in the endless night.

Still, the fear gnaws at you, a ravenous beast. It claws at your insides, making it hard to breathe. You are alone, helpless, and trapped. And yet, in the deepest part of you, there's still a small flicker of hope. It burns for Joel. For the possibility that he’s out there, somewhere, fighting to find you. Because if anyone could save you, it would be him.

Days blurred together in a hazy fog of fear and despair. You knew it was days because each morning, Negan would rouse you from the dark depths of sleep with a cold, menacing presence. He brought food—always meat, always raw and dripping with something that made your stomach churn. You could tell he could cook; the way he handled the food had a practiced ease, but you wanted nothing to do with it. Your heart raced as you shrank away, clutching your knees to your chest, desperate to be invisible.

Today, something shifted in him. His patience seemed to fray like an old rope, unraveling under the weight of his anger. “You can’t keep like this! You need to fucking eat!” he shouted, his voice reverberating in the tight confines of the basement like a thunderclap. The plate of meat he hurled at you missed, clattering harmlessly to the floor as you recoiled, your hands shaking, your body trembling with fear.

Negan had always been rough but strangely composed, treating you with a twisted kind of care. But now, his anger was a raging storm, and you were caught in its eye. He lunged forward, grabbing your face with a grip that felt like iron, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you fucking eat, huh?” The fury in his eyes burned, igniting a primal terror deep within you.

“Please, don’t hurt me! Don’t please!” You cried, the words spilling from your lips like a desperate prayer. But his grip only tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he leaned closer, his breath hot and heavy. “I need you to fucking eat!” The implication hung in the air, a dark cloud cloaked in menace, hinting at the horror that lay beneath his twisted motivations.

Then, with a sudden violent yank, he lifted you effortlessly and tossed you onto the lone mattress in the corner of the basement—the only semblance of comfort in this hellish nightmare. It was stained and worn, a grim reminder of all the other girls who had suffered here, and the air was thick with the stench of decay and desperation. “You need to be taught a lesson, huh?” he snarled, looming over you. “You want me to teach you to be obedient? Why don’t you fucking listen to me?”

Your heart raced as dread enveloped you like a suffocating shroud. You could feel the cold, hard reality of your situation settle over you, a weight that threatened to crush your spirit. “Please, don’t hurt me!” you whimpered, the words spilling out like blood from an open wound.

But Negan’s rage boiled over. He pinned you down, his strength overpowering you, leaving you helpless beneath him. A flash of pain erupted as his fist connected with your side, the blow landing like a hammer against glass, shattering the last remnants of your hope. “You should be grateful you’re still alive for weeks!” he growled, his voice a low, menacing growl. “Usually, the other girls only last a few days!”

Each word was a dagger, slicing into you, twisting deeper until you felt like you were drowning in despair. The room spun, and for a moment, you were lost in the chaos—a captive in a horror movie where the monster was all too real. You could see the flickering shadows dancing across the walls, and for a moment, you imagined they were the spirits of all the girls who had come before you, trapped in this wretched place, their cries echoing in your ears.

Every punch, every insult, was a cruel reminder of your fragility, a stark contrast to the flicker of resilience still fighting within you. You thought of Joel, of the warmth of his embrace and the strength of his spirit. You were more than this dark, stinking basement; you were more than Negan’s plaything. But as the blows rained down, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever see the light again, or if you were destined to fade into the shadows like the countless others before you.

In the depths of your despair, you turned inward, seeking solace in the silent echoes of your own heart. You prayed to God, your words tumbling forth like leaves in a tempest, pleading for this torment to cease. “Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “make it stop.”

But even as you cried out, questions fluttered in your mind like lost sparrows seeking refuge in a storm. Why did this always happen to you? Why were you cursed to walk the valley of shadows, where joy seemed as elusive as a wisp of smoke? It felt as if you were trapped in a parable, a cautionary tale whispered through the ages, where the faithful suffered and the wicked thrived.

You thought of the heavens above, imagined them as vast and endless, a tapestry of stars woven with threads of hope. Yet here you were, a solitary figure lost in the darkness, drowning in a sea of sorrow, with the light of those distant stars barely flickering in your heart. Was this your cross to bear? A burden too heavy for a soul so young?

As Negan’s fists rained down, each blow felt like the hammer of judgment, and your spirit ached under the weight of your own unworthiness. You longed to rise like a phoenix from the ashes, to break free from the chains of misery that bound you, but the flames of suffering held you fast. The biblical tales of resilience echoed in your mind, but you struggled to see yourself as part of those stories—would you ever find your own promised land?

“Am I not worthy of grace?” you questioned the heavens, your heart breaking under the pressure of your own doubts. The walls of the basement closed in around you, suffocating you with their cold embrace, and you felt as if you were wandering in the wilderness, lost and alone, with only the faint whispers of angels to guide you. Would there be a miracle that pulled you from this abyss? Would there be a shepherd to lead you back to the light?

But with each passing moment, the weight of your prayers felt heavier, like a stone cast into a bottomless well. You wondered if your cries reached the throne of heaven, or if they were swallowed by the darkness that surrounded you. “Why, Lord?” you pleaded, your voice cracking under the strain of your emotion. “When will my soul find peace? Why must I suffer while others walk free?”

In that moment, as the pain throbbed through you like a pulsing heartbeat, you realized that perhaps your suffering was not in vain. Maybe the storm would pass, and in its wake, you would emerge transformed, a testament to resilience and strength. Perhaps you were not merely a victim, but a warrior cloaked in shadows, fighting for your own light.

And so, with every ragged breath, you held onto that flicker of hope, whispering your prayers into the void, trusting that somewhere beyond this darkness, there lay a promise of redemption—a divine plan waiting to be unveiled, just beyond the horizon of your pain.

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cemeteryspider · 7 months ago

Text

Lost and Found

Dick Grayson x Speedster! Reader

Summary: You and your sibling Wally West run to save the world, a trip neither of you return from. That is until you do.

*Gender, race, and sexuality is not specified for the reader, but is referred to as Wally's sibling- can be adopted, biological, or have a different dad or mom since the parents are divorced*

Trigger Warnings: Death, loss, and existential threats

Word Count: 2340

The Bioship was still hovering in the air as you and your team jumped out to witness the disruptor and the havoc it was wreaking on the planet. In a yellow flash, you saw who could only be Wally West running towards the chrysalis, and Artemis in your ear saying something about Wally running off.

With a sudden realization sinking into your stomach, you pulled Dick down to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Back in a flash, Wing," You whispered in his ear.

You let go of Dick's hand and within milliseconds you were running alongside Uncle Barry, Bart, and Wally.

~~~

You never quite left the superhero scene, mostly helping other heroes with their work when need be. It wasn't that you couldn't become a fully fledged superhero in your own right with the action figures and lunch boxes, but that your life had changed.

You helped train the new heroes who lived at Mount. Justice. You helped them with focus and combat exercises, and allowed them to lean on your shoulder when things got difficult because of course things got difficult when you're dealing with hormonal teenagers who just so happen to have super abilities.

Despite the same lightning strike giving you the same powers as your brother, your powers didn't cause you any pain. So it came as a shock to you when Wally announced his retirement. When Wally left the superhero life for good, you felt lost and hurt. The one person you shared everything with decided to leave you behind.

Luckily, Dick Grayson, someone who knew what you were going through with Wally, stepped in. That's how you and Dick became close friends. You were both the leaders of Young Justice in Kaldur's absence. Finding yourselves alone with the only other person you age being Dick, well lets just say it wasn't a surprise to the team when you announced that you were together.

You allowed Wally back into your life, and allowed him to explain his departure. You felt like a jerk for distancing yourself, and turning away when he needed your support the most. Still he forgave you without a second thought. You and Wally would hang out on a near daily basis nowadays.

Then the Reach and the Light showed up. Regardless of how you felt, you participated in the cover up of Artemis' death. Wally didn't take her death well, her actually being alive well, or your or Dick's involvement in the matter well. Eventually reaching better terms once Kaldur and Artemis were able to stop the Reach and the Light.

That's how you made it here. With your relationship with Wally on the mend, you were running to counter the distributor that endangered Earth and all of its inhabitants.

So you kept running.

"Y/n get out of here! It's dangerous" Wally yelled at you, the high speeds distorted his words along with the disruptor.

"No four speedsters are better than three Walls!" Despite the yelling from your brother and uncle, you kept running.

You were a little faster than Wally, but still slower than the Flash and Impulse. You let yourself fall back to Wally's speed, and nodded at him with solidarity. You kept running.

Each pass around the disruptor you looked at Dick. You wanted to run into his arms and let him take the weight off your sore legs, but you couldn't leave. Then a shock was sent down your spine. You stumbled a little bit but kept running nonetheless.

You and Wally looked at each other and with each hit the chrysalis had on you the slower the two of you became. Still you both ran, you ran so that the world wouldn't be destroyed.

Barry looked at the two of you with worry in his eyes, despite being related by marriage he sometimes acted like the two of you were his own kids. Which was only strengthened when you both moved in with him and Iris after your parents divorced. He taught you both how to run.

The chrysalis continued to dispel its energy onto the two of you. You and Wally were fading from existence, and Barry reached out to you, his hand passing through your shoulder. You kept running.

"It's no good Barry" You looked at Wally and took his hand in yours, "Artemis is so gonna kill me, and don't even get me started on Mom and Dad"

You and Wally shared a knowing look. Neither of you were going to make it out of this. The damage had already been done. So you kept running together.

"Just tell them okay," You said to Barry as you and Wally faded from time and space.

~~~

Nightwing could faintly hear Jaime talking, something both him and you knew to be his scarab.

"Cease? Cease what?" He yelled.

Before Nightwing could work up the courage to ask what he was talking about the chrysalis retreated and left behind a cloud of disrupted snow.

Dick started running towards where the chrysalis used to be and allowed the snow to settle.

When it finally did the team could only see two speedsters in the aftermath. Miss. Martian and Kaldur helped them up while both he and Artemis frantically looked around the open space.

"Wait. Where's Wally?" Artemis shouted before Dick could even think to string together a sentence.

"Artemis, Dick, they wanted me to tell you-" Artemis interrupted him with denial, "they loved you both"

Artemis fell to the ground, and Dick swayed a little before falling to his knees as well. He knew he should be crying, but nothing was coming out. All he could do was hold the hand you were holding minutes ago and stare and where you were just running.

~~~

Dick thought about that day a lot. He dreamt about it. He dreamed of everything he could have done to stop you or keep you from seeing Wally risk his life. In every scenario you ran anyway.

Everything reminded him of you, but for some reason places you went to together pulled him close and tortured his proximity with the memory of you.

Nightwing sat on the rooftop of your old apartment building in Blüdhaven where, when you lived there, he ended up spending most of his time. Now it was inhabited by a couple with a baby, and he imagined his life if you hadn't disappeared years earlier.

After a long while, he allowed himself to continue his patrol, and ended on his fire escape and let himself in. Flopping on his bed after shedding his suit and falling asleep immediately. He didn't even hear his Justice League comm going off.

~~~

A loud slamming knock woke him up from his sleep, and a quick glance at his alarm clock let him know he was only asleep for a couple hours.

The knocking on his door got more frantic very quickly and he silently hoped that his neighbors wouldn't report him for the noise.

Tim stood on the other side of the door in his civilian clothes looking a bit out of breath.

"Tim? Is everything okay?" Dick tried to take his arm to pull him inside but Tim's feet stayed planted firmly on the ground.

"No. We've been trying to reach you for hours. You need to come with me" His sentence was interrupted by his gasping for air.

"Okay Tim. Let me just get a shirt on and we'll go"

Soon they were off, and when he got to the ground floor he saw Alfred parked out front.

"Hello Master Dick"

"Hey Alfred, where are we going"

"I think Master Bruce is the better choice for an explanation"

The ride to a zeta tube was quiet with Tim glancing at him several times in the rearview mirror. When in the zeta tube Dick and Tim were transported to the Watchtower, and with still no idea of why he was being brought into space.

Everything that involved someone needing League help was quickly shot down by Tim being the one to get him.

Batman was standing at the zeta tube waiting for them, and for a split second Dick thought he should have been wearing his suit. Bruce took his arm and guided him to the med bay.

"Dick, I wouldn't have called you here if someone else could confirm this, but I think in this case you're the best one to do this"

"Wait, what am I even doing here, no one has explained anything to me" Dick stopped right in front of the emergency doors and made Bruce look at him.

"Dick, we think that Kid Flash and Red Rapid survived the chrysalis, and somehow made it back here. We received a distress call from the North Pole late yesterday, and we brought them back here" Bruce tried to calmly explain this to him without overwhelming him, but he wasn't sure there was a way to do that.

"So you're saying that they are behind those doors. You're saying that my best friend and my partner are behind those doors after we buried them years ago. Mourned them?" His voice cracked by the end of his small speech. Both Tim and Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, and allowed his tears to fall.

After a few minutes Dick wiped his face and prepared himself for seeing the two people he loved most in the world other than his family. A little push of the door revealed two hospital beds, one with the red-head who he called his best friend, and the other with his partner who was sound asleep, surely exhausted from whatever journey they had gone through to get back.

"Dick?" Wally's voice was almost a whisper and Dick walked over to his bed stopping just before he reached out to touch him.

Quickly Wally grabbed Dick's hand and pulled him into a warm embrace, "I missed you so much Wally. I missed you so much" again the tears began to flow.

"I missed you too man, can you call Arty please I miss her too" Dick pulled himself away from him and gave him a nod.

With a squeeze of Wally's shoulder he went out the doors and asked Tim to call Artemis, and was notified that she was already on her way.

Going back to tell Wally he told Dick, "Go to Y/n, they need you more than I do"

The moment he was dreading came. Still this was the moment he hoped for since the day of your death. He sat in the leather chair next to your bed and gently shook your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered open like they would if it was a movie and you looked into his gorgeous icy blue eyes.

"Hey, handsome, you come here often", the joke left your lips and immediately his lips were on yours. Your arms found your place around his neck and pulled him as close as humanly possible.

"Babe", another kiss to your forehead, and you slid over to make room for him on the bed where he happily sat and snuggled up close to you, "Things just haven't been the same without you"

"Tell me all about it honey, I want to know everything about you" You looked into his eyes and allowed your nose to touch his.

"Maybe later, I just want to hold you, and never let you go"

Your forehead pressed against his and you allowed yourself to relax. Soon you would discuss what you both experienced but right now, holding each other was enough.

~~~

After a lot of tests the League let both you and Wally leave the Watchtower as long as Dick and Artemis looked over you. On your way back to his apartment, where you agreed would be the best place for you to be, he wanted to make a quick stop.

You zeta'd to the Mount. Justice where the lights were dark, and Dick took your hand in his.

"Now I wanted to ask you a long time ago, but I figured we could start where we left off, you know with the romance stuff. Hit the lights Gar!"

The lights came on and the mountain came alive. Most everything was the way you left it, only newer appliances and a ton of renovations. Maybe if you squinted a few more holes in the wall.

As the fairy lights illuminated the walls, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. The faces of the young heroes you trained, now grown into their own, the old Young Justice team, and your mentors were all gathered around. You looked to Dick to ask what was going on, but when you looked over you had to look to the ground where he was kneeling.

"I know we have a lot to talk about and work out, but there is no one who I would rather spend the rest of my life with", He met your eyes and opened the little box in his hands. A small shiny ring glimmered inside the velvet box, "would you do me the honor of being marrying me"

A couple of blinks and a second of silence later, "Yes! Of course I'll marry you", Suddenly Dick stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist and twirled you around in a circle. Once he set you down, he placed the ring on your finger and kissed your lips.

You dashed over to Wally, Bart, and Barry and gave them the biggest hugs. Barry held onto you for a long moment, despite seeing you very soon after you got to the Watchtower emotions were still high and he wanted to make sure you weren't going to dematerialize again.

You hugged all the kids, who were now young adults, and allowed your tears to flow down your cheeks. Though with the huge smile plastered on your face no one was confused about what you felt in this moment. You decided it was time to stand still for a little while.

~~~~~

Author's Note: The ring was in fact his mother's. I've read that some Romani people burn their loved ones belongings once they die but I think that they would give the rings to Dick to use as his own ~If anyone knows if this is true please let me know!

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #wally west #kid flash #justice league #barry allen #dc impulse #dc comics

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koimethehorizon · 1 year ago

Text

Fionna and Cake theory: Simon the Artist

Nothing like a good old creative panic attack.

Fionna and Cake good. Haven’t been excited about a show like this in a long time, though it being a part of Adventure Time does help quite a bit. I was holding on to some cautious optimism for the show when it was announced as yet another big IP series covering the multiverse (still waiting to groan at THAT scene where Prismo has to explain to us about there being infinite universes), but as usual, Adventure Time’s crew continues to surprise me with its creativity, humor, and thematic resonance.

The most striking part about Fionna and Cake so far is just how deliberately the show wants us to differentiate it from the original Adventure Time.

We’re getting shots where Simon pops an artery from his arm, a theme song that explicitly talks about suicidal ideation, discussions of rent and financial problems, and curses no longer disguised with AT’s usual dialogue. Adventure Time has always had violence, thematic density, and juvenile rating pushers, but they were always reserved at small points. Meanwhile, these are factors that are just casually shown and discussed in Fionna and Cake every 3 minutes or so. This is not an all-ages miniseries, it’s for young adults. (hint: this will be relevant later)

Let’s get right into it. This is much less a speculative lore theory and more on what thematic direction the story may be going.

Before we do, let’s get this out of the way first. This theory assumes that the current Fionna and Cake world is all a part of Simon’s head and not merely a separate multiverse, which… I’m certain is fact for the following reasons.

The immediately obvious piece is that Fionna and Cake was always the Ice King’s fanfiction. Now if you’re versed in AT’s continuity you’re probably going to be asking about the red light in Fionna and Cake + Fionna and… I’ve no answer for it unfortunately. It’ll probably be relevant later in the series and possibly age this post like milk but for now, we’re not here to focus on the how, but the why.

Second is that the intro and the ending of Ep 2 literally show Fionna’s world spilling right out of Simon’s head like an animated world out of a frozen brain. If that isn’t clear enough-

Didn't realize this until writing, but these glasses are just plastic made to look like Betty's

There’s no other explanation for this other than that this world is artificial or influenced by Simon in some sense. Fionna even specifies that the statue went under renovation 12 years ago, but nobody seems to know who it is. Considering how Finn looks in the episode, it’s likely that it’s been that long since Betty’s sacrifice in the finale.

With that out of the way, here it goes.

The reason Fionna and Cake exist in the first place is because the creators found Natasha Allegri’s genderswap designs charming and wanted an in-universe reason to use them the Ice King wanted to create trashy, wish fulfillment through art. It was a phase.

Definitely changed that image for publishing.

Simon can argue if they’re good or bad but it’s undeniably his art. It’s not just a portfolio he left behind in a closet, it’s an experience that was shared with a larger audience.

And even if wasn’t liked at first, the citizens of Ooo seemed to have come around to it. And some of them love it!

Whether Simon likes it or not, he has a fan base that is so endeared to the story he made all those years ago that they demand he makes more. Why let a good story, loved by many, go to rest when you still have some life and creativity left in you?

Can't move on in more ways than one.

Except, the problem is that Simon isn’t Ice King anymore. He’s aged out of it.

His real passion is history, he's an adult who who finds passion in the mundane and antiques from the past. And frankly, there isn’t much room for wish-fulfillment and fantasy anymore. Simon has responsibilities. He has a job and a daughter in a world that is moving faster than he can process.

And where Ice King wrote about looking for love, Simon has already had it.

And lost it. His mind isn’t focused on the rosiness of finding new love, it’s grieving the one he already thought was the one.

Wasn't he supposed to be good with kids?

Despite his new life experiences, all his peers seem to want from him is to make more of what they’re familiar with.

A story made from wants and wishes that he doesn’t even have anymore.

A story that was literally made by someone else at a different time. It’s a fiction he cannot connect to anymore, art that he’s embarrassed by. Yet also jealous of. Because at one point, the body Simon used to be in understood what exactly was missing from his life and could express that easily.

Seeing it again is like experiencing a retrospection of a cringey loser you don’t want to imagine having ever been. It’s not you anymore, and you don’t want to be reminded of that.

Because despite him having a new creative passion, no one seems to care about that. All they want is Fionna and Cake. And what is more lonely than other people misunderstanding what you’re trying to express?

If I failed to make it clear somehow, my theory is that: Simon’s relationship with Fionna and Cake is a metaphor for creators growing out of their art. And this new Fionna and Cake world is still comfort art born out of Simon’s current desires and perceptions.

The snippet subtitles this “child holding a phone”. I guess I’m wrong. Essay over.

Episode 1 and 2 both have direct parallels with each other. They’re both about a protagonist who are feeling displaced from their world, living a phase of losing a significant other, leaving a thankless job, wearing a mask of stability in front of the people they care for, seeking a guru at the heart of the forest, and concluding that they no longer belong in their current world.

But more importantly, Fionna and Cake (the characters, the world, and the show) are no longer for an all-ages crowd. Fionna and Cake now feature young adults, curses, gore, alcohol, partial nudity, financial issues, morning routines, mid-life crisis, and overt suicidal ideation. These are the feelings that Simon relates to and possibly desires to express through art. Thus, his story and our new miniseries have warped that way.

Am I overthinking this? No. How dare you assume that.

Is equating the unconscious writings of his dementia-ridden self to Simon as his younger self seem a bit odd? ….Kinda. Again, it’s not the how but the why that matters in this case. I'm NOT crazy, I have proof that there is some acknowledgment of this directly in the show.

Rewatch the bar scene and apply this reading of the episode to what Simon says there:

“Your old stuff, Fionna and Cake, honest to glob my man, is an inspiration to me.”

“My old stuff, I don’t really want to talk about my old stuff…”

“Why not? You should be proud! You wrote an entire extended universe in a fugue state if you think about it.”

"Simon cringes"

If you have ever shared art with a group of people in the past, you’ve had this conversation.

Not likely, not possibly, no perhapses. You HAVE.

And Fionna and Cake being an epilogue to a massive award-winning, near-decade-spanning, cultural sensation 5 years after it ended, might result in its creators feeling very retrospective about what audiences want from them now.

And how difficult it’s going to be to tell new experiences and tones from what’s come before. Also, come on. “Extended Universe?” That doesn’t sound like Fionna and Cake. That sounds a lot like something else.

Again, seems bad with this kid.

One of the more profound shots in the main trailer for the show features the inconspicuously Finn-like kid crouching at her Fionna and Cake book in Simon’s trash. I believe this character is going to have a major role in two ways. Convincing Simon to be proud of what he’s accomplished and/or embracing that Simon wants to move away from his original work in order to create something new, or perhaps more likely, reinvent Fionna and Cake into what Simon relates to now.

We’ll just have to see what Simon thinks of his new Fionna next week.

PS. Talking as a fan now, WHAT IS UP WITH THE 1000+ TREEHOUSE IN THE INTRO?!!! ARE WE REVISITING THIS TIMELINE AGAIN?

SOMEONE TELL ME NOW!!!

#television #adventure time #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #fionna campbell #animation #speculation #theories #fan theory #character analysis #discussion #adventure time spoilers #fionna and cake spoilers

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irkimatsu · 9 months ago

Note

I don't know if you accept requests,but

I can't stop imagining this smut scenario where Alastor is looking for Husk by following the green chain and when he found the room where he is,he's doing it with Reader 😻

Sorry for My Bad English!

I love how You write 🐬💕

I accept scenarios - and your English is fine, don't worry about it! Thank you so much for enjoying my writing!

You didn't specify whether you wanted angst, but that's my weakness, so there's some here. Husk/GN!Reader, contains a sex scene but that's not entirely the point. Husk's got some problems beyond what you can fix for him…

It started as a lazy afternoon in Husk's bedroom, just like so many afternoons you've spent here before. He never invited you in this early for the sole purpose of sex, but neither of you were stupid; you knew what a bottle of wine and some instrumental jazz could do to your heads. You simply had no reason to fight it as his kisses turned into his hands under your clothes, into his mouth on your collarbone, into him holding you in his lap and filling you deep as you rocked your hips into his.

You're snapped out of your passion by the sound of a chain rattling and Husk choking.

"Husk?" you ask as you slowly open your eyes. The room is darker than you remembered it being, only illuminated with a sickly green glow. You immediately trace the glow to its source; a heavy shackle that's suddenly attached itself to Husk's neck. A green chain runs from the shackle, along the bed, and down to the floor before disappearing beneath Husk's door.

"Don't worry about it," he says gruffly as he squeezes you close. "Just keep moving."

"But-"

"Don't worry about it," he growls as he buries his head in your shoulder. Since you're not about to start moving, he takes the reins, bucking up into you as he moans into your shoulder. He doesn't seem distracted by his current predicament, still able to find the exact angle and strength to make you dizzy.

"Husk-" You scratch at his back despite yourself. You feel like you should tell him to stop and explain what the hell is going on, but damn it, how are you ever supposed to ask him to let you go?

He moves his head's position, and his neck shackle is deathly cold against your skin. You start moving to his rhythm, determined to ignore it for now. You can ask later.

A familiar voice rings out down the hall, friendly and crackling with radio static. "Oh, Husker? Where are you, my feline fellow?"

"Not now, Al!" Husk snarls, probably not loud enough to be heard outside the bedroom. "Give me one- fucking- minute-" He chokes again as the chain is yanked, but it doesn't stop his thrusts.

"Are you in there, Husker?" The voice is much closer now, and the bedroom door is starting to rattle. "Come now, why don't you let me in? You know I have a master key, but it's still polite to get the door for your guests, wouldn't you say?"

Husk ignores Alastor's voice in favor of squeezing you tight and thrusting up into you even faster. "Fuck- why can't he let me have this- one- fucking- thing-"

Husk shudders into you as he cries out in orgasm, and as if on cue, his bedroom door slams open immediately after. You're both left sitting on his bed, holding each other tight and panting, while you're trying your best to ignore the fact that Alastor is standing there behind you.

"Oh, my. I seem to have interrupted something."

No shit.

"Offer your mate some privacy, would you, Husker?"

Husk snarls again as he shields you from Alastor's view with his wings. "Fuck off," he snaps.

"Now, now…" Alastor yanks on Husk's chain again, clearly unhappy with his backtalk. Husk gags, but doesn't let go of you with either his arms nor his wings.

"What the fuck do you want?" Husk asks.

"I was hoping I could have a private little chat with you. It's an urgent matter, so do come down to the lobby with me, if you wouldn't mind."

"I'm busy," Husk said. "We can talk later."

That wasn't the right answer. Another tug of the chain pulls Husk down on top of you. While Husk is still gagging for breath, Alastor then pulls the chain to the side, sending him tumbling to the floor with a heavy thump.

"What was that?" Alastor asked, the static weaving threateningly around every syllable. "I said this is urgent."

"Fuck- sorry! Sorry, I'll come downstairs!" Husk's physical reaction to Alastor's change in tone is terrifyingly sudden, with his fur bristling and his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. "I'll come downstairs-"

"That's what I thought you said," Alastor responds, his voice back to normal just as abruptly as it had initially changed. He waves the chain away, finally returning the light to the room and allowing Husk to breathe clearly again. "I'll give you a few minutes to compose yourself," he continues as Husk rises to his feet. "Not that a pet should need to get dressed, but I suppose even you require some decency. Come to the lobby once you've fixed yourself up, if you please." With that, Alastor leaves the room, whistling cheerfully as he does so. At least he has enough manners to close the door behind him.

You slowly sit up after Alastor is gone. "Husk…?" you ask quietly. He doesn't seem to hear you as he scrambles to get his underwear and pants back on.

"Shit, shit, shit- one afternoon to myself, one fucking afternoon, that's all I fucking ask for-"

"Husk, are you okay?"

He stops ranting and sighs heavily as he adjusts his suspender straps. "…it's fine. I'm fine. I just… have a deal with Alastor, that's all. If he wants me to do something for him, then I've gotta do it."

"A deal with Alastor? But when I first got here, one of the first things Vaggie told me was to never make a deal with him…"

Husk scoffs. "Yeah, well, what can I say. I'm a fucking dumbass." His face softens as he approaches you and runs his paw down your cheek. "…you should avoid him for a while. I pissed him off pretty bad, and I think… if he knows what you are to me, and he wanted to… hurt me…" His fur is bristling again, and he gasps despite the shackle no longer being there. "…just... let me deal with him for now, okay?"

You can't say okay back. You can't send him down there, alone, to face whatever the hell Alastor has in mind.

But you don't know what other option you have, so all you can do is nod.

"Stay in here," he says. "I'll come back as soon as I can." He softly kisses your lips, lingering as if he can't bear to part from you. But part he has to, and soon, he disappears out the door.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #irk huskposts #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers

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restinslices · 10 months ago

Text

Stay

Bi-Han x Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 1499

Summary: Just some sad angst about Bi-Han’s significant other leaving him from his POV. Inspired by that scene of Kaz telling Inej to stay and Inej saying she'll have him without his armor. You don't gotta know the scene to know what I'm talking about. Just follow the plot.

Bi-Han had a thousand thoughts spinning in his head and none of them wanted to quiet down.

He couldn't even focus on one. There were multiple voices in his head screaming at him, all of them wanting to be the loudest but all of them failing. It'd been like this ever since you made it clear that you were leaving.

Maybe some of this was his fault. No. Not maybe. This was his fault. He had become neglectful, and the edges he had became sharper and sharper. It seemed like he hurt you every time you got close.

Bi-Han being foolish and prideful thought it'd all go away. There was no need for deep talks, or breathers, or whatever else you managed to think of. He convinced himself it would all smooth over eventually. This was just a rough patch and it didn't seem to actually danger his relationship.

How wrong he was.

Time passed. Neglect built. Finally you two got into a huge argument and it seemed like this tipped the scales against him. You would be leaving.

He stood nearby but refused to look at you. Didn't matter though. His brain punished him anyway, making him relive the moment you slipped your ring off. It slipped off effortlessly, like it was always meant to come off. Like you two were always meant to fail.

Your stuff was gone, so he didn't understand why you were still here, but he didn't complain. You said something about grabbing a necklace, but he never saw you grab it and the last time he looked at you, you weren't wearing one.

Bi-Han had another problem besides his inability to look at you for an extended amount of time. His hands felt empty. He tried to pass time and fill that void by cleaning his mask with a hot rag, but it didn't work. It's not just that his hands were empty, it's that you weren't in them. It was weirdly funny when he thought about it. Bi-Han wasn't big on physical touch and whispering sweet nothings. He was capable of all the cutesy shit that was typical in relationships, he just didn't care for it.

But now? All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around you and force you to stay. He wanted to whisper every sweet thought he had about you in your ear. He wanted to praise everything about you, and he didn't mean just your looks. He wanted to praise you about the stupidest things; your walk, how you pronounce certain words, your laugh, how you look when the sun hits you, everything. Anything to make you stay. But he didn't. He stayed silent and he assumed that silence bothered you based on your sigh.

“I guess this is it then” you spoke, and it made his heart clench in his chest as he realized this would probably be one of the last things he heard you say.

He made a small noise of acknowledgement in response.

“Am I to take your grunting as words?”.

“Goodbye” he forced himself to say, but the words came out through gritted teeth. He could hear your footsteps get closer until you were in front of him. Your soft hands touched his, only to slide his mask out his hands and onto the table. He couldn't help but look at you then, taking in and memorizing every feature you had. There were plenty of things you didn't like about yourself. You were only human after all. Bi-Han disagreed about all of it though. If there was one thing he was forced to look at until his final days, he'd choose you everytime. He was just really bad at showing it and he hated himself for it.

“Is… is there nothing else you want to say? Just 'goodbye’?”

“What else should I say?”. You nodded then and a small “ok” left your lips. His fingers started to itch the second you looked away, that emptiness making itself known again. He didn't have his mask in his hands anymore, so his fingers tapped against each other, wanting desperately to grab you.

You had only taken one step.

“Stay”.

He didn't mean to say it. He didn't even notice he said it until you turned to look at him.

“What?”

“Stay” he said more firmly. His hand grabbed your wrist as if that would trap you with him forever. The tapping stopped, finally content now that you were touching. “I want you to stay”.

“And if I don't want to?”

“I need you to stay”.

It went silent then and he wished he could read your mind. Your face gave nothing away but sorrow and as tough as he tried to act, he knew his face looked the same. “I want you…”. He meant to add something else, but what was there to add? He couldn't pinpoint what about you he wanted. He just wanted you. All of you. Good, bad, ugly. He wanted it.

“And how do you want me to be?” You said after a second. “Obedient? Obeying your will? Being at your side when it's convenient and behind you when it's not?”. He looked away, not able to take how your brows furrowed when speaking and his hand slipped from your wrist.

He felt your hand touch his cheek and move his face to look at you. He couldn't help but close his eyes and lean into your touch, finding comfort in how familiar your hand felt against him. The world was incredibly cruel. It gave him the power to freeze everything but time.

“Do you want me to stay silent? To take what you give me and ask for nothing more? To never speak up? To just accept life for what it is?”.

His eyes scrunched together. Each word felt like a dagger being twisted inside him. Your voice narrated his memories and all he could see was how many times he took you for granted. If he could, he'd beat himself over the head and yell at himself to keep you close instead of doing what was natural and pushing you away.

“I want you Bi-Han”.

His eyes opened then, hoping maybe you changed your mind.

“But I want something different. And you… I'm not sure you're capable of change”. Your hand slipped from his face and he immediately grabbed your hand. He was delusional. He hoped the physical contact could somehow reignite the spark. Stupid and wishful thinking, but he hoped the Elder Gods were listening and would answer his prayers.

“I can change” he managed to get out. It was a lot quieter than his previous words, even if he meant for it to come out powerful and assertive. Something had to change your mind and convince you to stay. He'd bring all your stuff back by himself if he has to. He just didn't want you to start moving again.

You sighed and shook your head, “you don't change. This is just who you are and I can't take that from you”.

“Stay with me. Don't go”.

“I thought the Grandmaster would never beg or plead”.

“I do”.

Bi-Han was taught from a very early age that Grandmasters didn't negotiate. They never begged or pleaded or showed any signs of weakness. They ruled over their clan with perfection and always stood tall. Unmoving. There was no such thing as weakness.

But he was so incredibly weak when it came to you. Grandmasters didn't beg or plead but Bi-Han did, and he'd beg over and over for you to stay if it'd work.

That's the thing though. It wasn't working and he knew it.

He was far too late.

“I hope you know I loved you Bi-Han”

“Loved?”

“I love you”

“Then stay”

You smiled then. A smile that had absolutely no joy in it. Only mourning. Your hand slipped out of his and you reached up to wipe away the tears he didn't even know had fell. He wondered why you weren't crying. Whenever you fought recently, you always seemed to cry. Sometimes it'd be a few tears, other times you'd storm away and he'd hear you sob. Did he exhaust you this much? You had no more tears to spill? Did he really push you that far past your limits?

“I hope in our next life we're different. I hope we spend forever together”. Bi-Han wanted to argue with you. He wanted to shout at you and tell you that all of that could happen in this life, but he didn't. You made up your mind. It was clear. He didn't know what to say anymore. You loved him and he loved you so how did he mess it up this bad?

Your hand lingered until it finally left his face for the last time. You walked away, and this time he didn't stop you.

He watched you as you went, replaying your life together in his head and what he should've done differently.

I tried to pick the least threatening gif I saw and that was actually difficult. Where is your kindness sir? Also why is the indented shit spaced out so ugly in the beginning? Summary and word count not having one long line is gonna haunt me.

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han sub zero #bi han #bi han x reader #mk1 bi han #bi han x y/n #bi han x you #bi han imagine #subzero mk1 #subzero x reader #subzero x you #bi han angst #subzero angst #mk1 angst #idk what’s wrong with me #lin kuei

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