#complete (not entirely) separation of thoughts and feelings - to survive and work

[gomzdrawfr]

I see your post about OCPD + STPD König. Consider: SZPD Ghost and NPD Graves.

I love showing my love for characters by hitting them with the personality disorder beam

cant comment much on Graves because i dont think about him but SZPD Ghost is interesting

warning: mcd, death

Would kinda match his behaviour, like he's detached and muted but is not disloyal, doesn't outwardly crave a close bond over a multitude of factors (hurts to let someone in only for them to leave the second he gets attached), he tolerates it however if someone breach it slowly. Limit on physical contact, another masked guy so there's a barrier there between himself and everything else.

He's always processing emotions differently, or at all really. Most of the things and events are easy to bury under layers of habit and duty. It's hard to feel them, it's just easier to...dissect, interpret, clinically examine emotions than to experience. Easier to detect and recognize patterns; how a smile works, what warmth is (tilt of a head, tilt too much to the left then it's anger etc).

Easier to see it in a distance, than to let any of it reach and settle inside him, whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.

Maybe that's why in mw3 he's just there, you know the scene I'm talking about.

Kneeling beside Johnny, palm pressed against his chest.

Maybe he's waiting, watching, listening for that pattern and familiar rhythm he's came to memorized, the rise and fall clocked precisely at 1.2 seconds between each breath, waiting for his hand to swat his left wrist away with a cough.

But it doesn't happen, there's nothing.

Even though Ghost bloody knows (intellectually and clinically) that it's over, there's no pulse no movement no breath, the bullets gone through there's red staining his pants, there's also a large part of Ghost that just can't know it.

Can't process it, not all the way. But he also can't file it neatly away to the back of his head like everything else.

So maybe that's why he remained there even if the timer goes down and the bomb went off.

He can't let go, can't know how to leave, when to leave, when to accept.

[shotmrmiller]

just porn. and a comparison of cocks:>

finally deciding to sleep with ghoap after dating them for a couple of months, but because they're overwhelming together— you'd like to breathe, not drown— you decide to be with them separately for now to experience their gravity one at a time without getting completely swept away.

(you don't know whether to be insulted that they're playing rock-paper-scissors on who gets to go first or flattered that they both desperately want to be first. simon wins and johnny pouts.)

with simon, you'd been outright terrified. that thing between his legs didn't spring up when you made him lose the pants, didn't bob with each step he took toward the bed, toward you; gravity pulled it downward, each step he took made it sway heavily. if he hadn't taken the time to work you open, his thick fingers curling as his tongue focused on the apex of your pussy until your slick traced a sinuous path down his wrist, coming to stickily drip from his elbow onto the sheets, it would've ached a lot more than it did.

because it did. ache, that is. there was no staving off the discomfort of the stretch, the sting only spreading its sharp tendrils further when you took him to the root, the orgasms simon had wrenched from you only a thin barrier against the full brunt of it. but fortunately, your generous lover gave you as much time as you'd needed to accommodate, to give in, to surrender, and the pain bloomed into warm, rich pleasure when his hand slithered down to your hips, the pads of his fingers brushing over your oh so tender pearl and when you'd keened out a sigh, he'd begun to fuck you in earnest and anything after that is one big blur.

simon is a big guy. massive, really, built like he belonged on the battlefield. he did not take up space; he was space, so you hadn't been surprised that he'd been as egregiously endowed as he was. painfully fitting, you reckon.

so, when it's johnny that's pressing hot, wet kisses against the smooth column of your throat, you're gulping down a sigh of sharp relief when he breathes that while he's not as blessed as simon, he'll treat you better than him, he promises.

(still sore from having lost that silly game, you notice.)

johnny's thickly built but compact— all muscle and tightly coiled energy, like a fire burning too close, so you're expecting him to be proportionate the same way simon was.

oh, how grievously wrong you were.

what he lacked in length, barely an inch or two, who cares, was insignificant compared to his sheer, staggering girth. you'd thought simon was overwhelming, but johnny was something else entirely. it hung ominously, the thin, groomed skin above it seemingly stretched taut, strained with its density. what's worse, it didn't sway with his movements; it just hung there, rigid, a deadweight.

you'd survived simon just to die at the hands— and cock— of johnny.

figures.

(time had seemingly slowed when johnny had begun to sink into you, every second stretching as painfully as your poor cunt, fire licking at your nerves, spreading through your limbs in waves, one more intense than the last. your breath is shallow and uneven as your body resists, stubborn against the intrusion and johnny hooks his arm under your leg, just at the crook of his elbow— easy does it, hen, breathe f'r me— and he cants your hips to that sweet angle that allows him to slip in, like a stone sinking into a pond. The flood of relief you feel is euphoric in contrast to the raw feel of you being stretched to your absolute limit, and while the tension isn't completely gone, the fragile respite perched right on the edge of discomfort, it is a victory.)

[darkforestpetalkit]

Welcome! I'm Ming working on a Petalkit AU titled StarClan's Fallen!

What is StarClan's Fallen?

StarClan’s Fallen is a Warriors AU where Petalkit survives and vows revenge against the Clans. It takes place in both Mapleshade’s Vengeance and The Prophecies Begin. Petalkit is trained and raised in the Dark Forest by Thistleclaw, who corrupts and manipulates her into becoming a bloodthirsty beast. Under his influence, she becomes his prized performer, a killer, and grows into a complete monster, renamed Bloodpetal

All behind Mapleshade’s back.

Thistleclaw, however, doesn’t realize he won’t be able to control her for long. He also fails to consider that Petalkit—now fully grown as Bloodpetal—will assert her own agency and pursue her own ambitions. Ambitions that just so happen to perfectly align with one cat in particular. 

Tigerstar.

******************************************************************

The Prologue

After the trauma of nearly drowning, Petalkit survives but is separated from the current that carried her brothers’ dead bodies. RiverClan and Mapleshade believe her to be dead along with them. Unaware of Mapleshade’s rampage, she searches desperately for her mother, determined to stay alive so they can reunite. When she does, Mapleshade is already dead. Devastated, she collapses beside her mother’s body, overwhelmed with grief, and spends the night sleeping against her.

Then, the dark thoughts begin.

In her dreams, Petalkit’s hatred manifests into violent thoughts, hurting those who hurt her but twice as hard. She remembers how Ravenwing and Frecklewish watched her drown. How she reached for them, so close to the edge of the riverbank, begging for help. How Ravenwing pulled his paw away and left while Frecklewish remained, just watching.

Her desire to make them suffer only grows as she attempts to bury her mother. But being a mere kit, she is limited, and frustrated at her inability to do it right. She blames everything on Oakstar, Ravenwing, Frecklewish, and the entire Clan for her pain and loss. And Appledusk, her so-called father who never came for her or her mother. Who left them to die. What’s worse is that she looks like him. She resents that.

Now she has faces to imagine tearing open and other, disturbingly explicit acts no kit should have. Consumed by hatred, her rage calls to the Dark Forest, back when it was ancient and more barren.

At the exact same time, Mapleshade, now a vengeful spirit, thinks of her kits. When Petalkit’s face appears in her mind, she unknowingly creates a connection between them through the Dark Forest. Without meaning to, she summons Petalkit into the Dark Forest, but on the farthest edge, completely opposite of where she is and separated by an expansive, dark lake. Completely oblivious of eachother.

Still filled with savage, merciless thoughts, Petalkit wanders around. She swears to herself that she will never feel fear again. She will become fear. That is what she wants to be when she grows up.

During her exploration, she accidentally falls into the Dark Lake. Terrified of almost drowning again, Petalkit desperately swims to the surface.

What she does not realize is that time moves slowly in the water. The reason cats who vanish into the lake are said to never be seen again, is not because they drown. It is because they emerge forward in time. When Petalkit surfaces, she is surprised to find herself no longer in the Dark Forest and that her claws have turned obsidian black, gleaming like polished stone.

At that moment, a ThunderClan patrol approaches. Petalkit hides as the warriors stumble upon Thistleclaw’s dead body. Among them is Tigerclaw, a newly made warrior, still young and stunned to find his mentor dead.Petalkit flees, slowly realizing something is wrong. When she discovers her mother’s body is no longer where she left it, and the entire landscape has changed, she panics and returns to the Dark Forest. There, she seeks refuge and claims a spot of her own, determined to stay far from Clan cats. However, she is discovered by Thistleclaw, now a new resident of the Dark Forest.

She immediately spits at him to get out of her territory, refusing to let another cat take anything from her. She boldly attacks, tiny jaws clamping down on his throat. Despite her little teeth having no effect on him, her intent is unquestionable. This catches Thistleclaw’s interest. Deeply amused, he watches the furious kit spewing death threats, hissing that when she is big and scary, she will kill him. She meant every word. She wants to know how to kill. 

Now free from the scrutiny of his living Clanmates, Thistleclaw sees an opportunity he cannot refuse. An apprentice he can train without restraint, exactly the way he wants. Taking her under his wing, he promises to shape her into what she claims she wants to be. 

The most terrifying cat the forest has ever seen.

It does not take long for Thistleclaw to piece together who Petalkit is, despite his initial misgivings. This only deepens his interest. He realizes he can mold Mapleshade’s daughter into his legacy and make her loyal to him. Driven by ambition, he keeps Petalkit hidden from Mapleshade and isolates her from any influence but his own. Petalkit will be his greatest creation, convinced he will rise above Mapleshade and turn her own daughter against her mother.

Guiding her to survive as a rogue on her own during her waking hours and forging her into a killer when she dreams, Thistleclaw fuels her hatred, indoctrinating her with his ideologies that the world is kill or be killed. To take what is hers. As Petalkit grows, her coat begins to darken. As if mirroring her utter rejection and disdain for her father, she sheds any resemblance to him, taking after Mapleshade instead. Sharing her mother’s vengeful and relentless nature, she excels in Thistleclaw’s training. So much so that as Petalpaw, Thistleclaw turns her into his personal, undefeated champion. She no longer just kills. She performs. She becomes Bloodpetal. Every cat is prey to her.

However, training her is not as easy as he imagined. Petalkit is far from an eager, obedient apprentice like Tigerpaw was. She is bold, defiant, sharp-tongued, fearless, and far too clever for her own good. He was not prepared for her abundance of sass.

This is going to be more challenging than he thought…

This is where our story truly begins.

*****************************************************************

And there we have it! I will be sharing more about the story, plot and lore in future posts. For now, here is the basic summary and prologue's plot. Above is a song I imagine being the overall themesong.

My intent is to tell this story through multimedia. The primary, ambitious goal is to create a series of mainly PMVs, with some written scenes or lore accompanied with pictures or possibly comic pages. Currently I'm working on on my first PMV that will cover this prologue! The song to the PMV will be MONSTER by Chandler Leighton. Wish me luck! I never made a PMV before!

⛔️ Spottedleaf's Heart never happened. We don't talk about that trash in this AU house.

[baltears]

im obsessed w how the different seasons explore different ways women can try to cope w abusive men

s5 spoilers!

beck -> hes normal! (no hes not. this is the simplest one bc the relationship is the most shallow, he was 100% masking the whole time he was with her up until the end and she was just whistling past red flags in a very typical and normal way for someone who's never been in a relationship with a habitual abuser)

love -> hes just like me! (true - BUT he's still judgmental of himself deep down and in denial about his behaviors atp, and he's a misogynist, so he'll be even more judgmental of you.)

marienne -> he has trauma like mine! (true but also what makes him unsafe bc he didn't respond to it with a real and sustained effort to recover. i do think it's worth noting that she was kinda last in first out as far as joe's gf/victims went, she was resistant to the relationship initially, ran as soon as she had evidence of serious red flags, and managed to just barely escape him bc she has gone through some substantial recovery and has reconnected the most to survival instinct, so was able to respond relatively functionally to the life or death situation he put her in)

kate -> he can choose be good for me! (he technically can but really no longer wants to - she might have recognized this if she ever paid close attention to what was happening, but she understandably chose willful blindness)

bronte -> i can fix him! (you can trap him into listening and then say the perfectly calculated thing in exactly the right way and it will be cathartic and emotional for him, but it's not a substitute for long term recovery that he has truly committed to and so there will not be any lasting change. i lovvvveee how bronte is written btw like truly such a masterful depiction of someone who WOULD be ok with joe not bc she's ok with murder but bc like beck she is in a moment of extreme personal confusion, looking for connection and identity, & does have a side of her that feels similarly to him in terms of wanting 'bad people' to suffer – but ultimately she recognizes that he is a misogynist and not interested at all in doing the right thing bc he's detached completely from caring about reality)

its just such a clever and empathetic fucking show because Of Course traumatized people want to connect with other traumatized people, of course we can and often will empathize with figures like Joe if we come from a background of trauma. I feel empathy for Joe throughout the entire show. But irl empathy will not necessarily protect you from someone who is unsafe and people cannot be saved unless they choose to save themselves. As heartbreaking as Joe's suicide attempt was (for me) to watch and as misguided as I think it was, that was his last real effort toward trying to save himself and trying to stay connected with reality and do the right thing. The self who knew deep down that hurting others was wrong was who died that day, because Joe could not separate the idea of doing wrong things from the idea of being a wrong person, and his survival skewed his reality completely bc he's a person who believes in patterns and the universe telling him things and he thought not dying meant he was being told it was all okay (bc not dying = "I'm a good person"* = everything i do is justifiable). it all comes from such a real place but the harm he does is so real too and that's the dilemma of his character. you can feel such kinship and connection with someone else and that can be very real but it is not a shield. if they don't see you as a human being and are no longer accessible to repeated reality checks, it's not your job to reach them and it can never be fully safe for you to try. and misogyny is not a sleeping curse you can wake someone up from, they have to want to work through it themselves.

*remember this is a false binary, like everyone else he was always a neutral person choosing to do bad things sometimes and good things other times

[trek-tracks]

Okay, hear me out. TOS 4 is the time travel movie. So AOS 4 is the time travel movie, but it's not about whales.

It's about a conversation AOS Spock had with TOS Spock before the latter died, when TOS Spock mentioned that things didn't really go irrevocably wrong in his universe until Admiral Kirk disappeared with the Enterprise-B. AOS Spock wonders what repercussions this has had on his own, somewhat more distressing universe, and when the AOS Enterprise bridge crew finds itself assigned to protect Earth by examining an unstable temporal ribbon that seems to be crossing through the galaxy--well. Spock wonders. Is this the Nexus? They find out soon enough that it is. And since Spock's the first one in, technically, the Nexus gives him what he wants, which is what the Nexus has--the ability to cross universes as well.

Now everyone, out in two groups on separate missions has to resist succumbing to the temptations of the world of the Nexus while they try to rescue Admiral Kirk, making sure his mission is still completed (so as not to destroy anything for the TNG folks' reality) but that he survives, so that they can figure out how to get through the Nexus and pop him back in his universe right as he's supposed to leave on the Enterprise-B. AOS Spock is sure he can figure out those calculations somehow. Some of the temptations are funny, some are sad, but we find out where Uhura and Sulu and Scotty are in their lives, and where they want to be.

Like Spock got to meet TOS Spock, TOS Kirk gets to meet Kirk (and Spock, and McCoy, and eventually the rest of the bridge crew). AOS Kirk learns that the life he's been envious of all this time didn't turn out well in the end because TOS Kirk ran toward duty alone despite what he had, and TOS Kirk learns that a) he could have suffered so much more loss, b) he's just one of a set of infinite possibilities, just like AOS Kirk is, and c) he's been wasting eternity exploring those other possibilities of happiness in the Nexus when he could have been content with what he already had.

He finds out what happened to TOS Spock, and it's agonizing. He sees this weird young Spock and Bones, both of whom could bench-press him, and he misses his Spock and Bones so much that the Nexus starts trying to change the fantasy world, to their detriment. It's only when the crew sticks as close as possible together and all concentrates on wanting the same thing that they're all able to shift the Nexus to their goal. Then Picard shows up. Things get complicated.

We hear, from Generations: And in the end, what did it get me? An empty house...Not this time.

and from Star Trek V: I knew I wouldn't die because the two of you were with me.

I thought you said men like us don't have families.

I was wrong.

TOS Kirk decides that, yes, he wants to leave, and he wants to go back. But they're not entirely sure how to line up Picard's plan and TOS Kirk's plan and the AOS plan and have it all work. It's a lot to figure out.

To simplify things, AOS Kirk decides he's going to volunteer to go die in TOS Kirk's place so that they can return TOS Kirk and at least one of them will have a decent ending, because his own life still feels so uncertain. This seems like it's going to work until his Spock and Bones both read him the riot act. But it's Bones who really goes off.

Karl Urban gets a great speech as Bones about how both Spock and Kirk met their counterparts, a chance which he will likely never be afforded and neither of them learned anything from it. Spock went off and punctured the walls of a universe even though TOS Spock indirectly destroyed AOS Vulcan through it. Kirk is trying to run away and die again because he doesn't know what to do with himself, even though TOS Kirk had an unhappy ending to a good life because at the end he ran away and tried to die again. Bones just tries to pick up the pieces. You don't fix things by tearing them apart, and you don't fix them by tearing yourself apart. You fix them by healing the rift. AOS Kirk's eyes light up. They're going to fix the rift.

They're going to give this random meaningless villain what he wants, throw him into the Nexus, he can have infinite joy, then they're going to seal it and heal it.

After all, AOS Bones says. He had a drink with TOS Kirk at the man's insistence, even though the Saurian Brandy didn't taste like anything, and Kirk told him he could cure anything from a rock to a rainy day. The tasteless brandy? Apparently Bones is the person who can actually perceive that nothing here is real, so he doesn't want anything except for everyone to remain safe.

From Beyond: Better to die saving lives than to live with taking them. 

Bones says: Better that no one dies at all. This time, no one dies.

So TOS Kirk and the Bridge crew go with Picard to subdue Soran and honestly, it's not that tough with all of them. Nobody had to die. And as they fix the rift, with TOS Kirk and Picard's Enterprise about to be thrown back into their universe on one side and the AOS Enterprise into theirs on the other, Picard suddenly realizes that he never clarified how they were getting Kirk back to his own time. And how will they explain his status?

TOS Kirk grins. Good thing I know how to slingshot around the sun, he says. And when they report me missing, I'll just say I didn't go in the first place. Clerical error. Who are they to argue with an alive man?

AOS Kirk has so many questions, but the two of them merely salute each other, and then they're thrown back.

Back in his own time, TOS Kirk walks into a Starfleet Academy apartment, and hear him say:

Bones, I heard you got laid up with Andorian flu and Spock was taking care of you, and this I just had to see! How many hypos? Don't let him talk you out of any, Spock. They're all important, every single one, even ones he hasn't heard of.

A pause.

Yes, I know I said Starfleet needed me. I just thought maybe you two needed me more this time.

Back in the AOS universe and Spock's calculations are totally off in getting home, because he didn't account for the gravitational pull of--

Vulcan. The planet that apparently still exists.

TOS Spock still came into their universe--he was always going to live longer than his ties to his Enterprise family. But his actions had been tempered, less destructive, which had clearly resulted in the Enterprise being able to save the planet. They were going to have to find out how.

Not everything had changed, of course. Nero had still been Nero, they had still come together. But Jim only vaguely remembers dying, now, as though it had happened to somebody else. He feels more settled than he ever has before. Some of that's the time travel revision, and some of that's the meeting with his alternate self, and some of that's Bones' yelling. Spock feels a sense of closure. Bones is just relieved that nobody died this time.

Uhura suddenly and quietly alerts them to the chronometer. It's a week before they left, which means there are now two Enterprise bridge crews on Earth, and that they need to lie low for a week to avoid running into themselves.

What should we do, Captain? she asks.

Jim smiles.

Let's go to Yosemite.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.13

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Ch. Notes: short

Summary: Fisk gains a new unexpected ally that deeply affects a member of the family.

An: Short filler Ch. but with a warning. Sorry for the mistakes, just wanted to get something out for yall. Also fear not, we will be getting the very essential "date" chapter soon, but first some world building yknow.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

With the way life had been treating you lately, the ups and downs, you felt as though this should be harder. You felt like there was a funk or depression that should be settling into your mind, but there wasn’t. There should’ve been anxiety building up, but all you felt was calm.

After the beating you suffered you thought you’d be more on edge. However as your body healed itself, you found yourself at ease. There was something smug about your survival. Perhaps it had to do with the blossoming relationship that you had been reveling in.

Throughout the years you had prided yourself on changing and morphing into someone with a tough exterior and an even stronger interior. While you never regretted becoming that way, you admit that in it you lost some of your personality.

You were so much more than a victim of the abuse you had suffered at the hands of your mother. As you grew, after separating yourself from her you were set on not ever being a victim again that you hid everything that you thought made you vulnerable.

Your likes and leisurely activities all of sudden seemed like weak points. The only one who was able to make you let your guard down was Pietro.

Now however, having Wanda and Natasha by your side, you find yourself on a path of rediscovery. You feel like you’re coming into yourself again. The women are the perfect models of work life balance and you think it’s everything you’ve been missing.

The can go into the office work diligently and complete their jobs, but also clock out and relax. The enjoy themselves and they enjoy you.

Wanda personally loves seeing you open up a bit more, after seeing how much of yourself you pushed down. Natasha finds herself collecting bits and pieces of information about you that she plans to commit to memory.

In the very back of your mind you think about how quiet the streets have been. You expected Fisk to brag about your beating just like he did with Dragos. However there had been no commotion, and the intel that you were getting didn’t indicate any attacks soon.

It was eerie and you would've dwelled on it in the past, but Natasha and Wanda reassured you that everything was under control. Natasha constantly let you go over her team strategies to show you she was utilizing the soldiers given to her.

They tried to keep you out of the office for your recovery, but you just found yourself working from home until your ankle was healed. As soon as you were able, you stepped back into the office.

While you had made nearly a full recovery, you could not say the same for Dragos. It pained you hear that doctors have reported a stagnation in his progress. Flora relied that certain doctors were starting to suggest pulling the plug as a feasible option. The entire family was adamant to oppose any talk of such actions.

“Baby?”

Your eyes leave your compute to see Wanda and Natasha entering your office.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Natasha speaks, “We were wondering if you wanted to grab dinner tonight?”

You nod, “For sure.”

Wanda clarifies a bit, “Like a date, Y/n.”

Your eyes widen a bit, but you nod excitedly at the prospect, “Even better, of course.

“We’ll go home, get ready and go from there?” Nat suggests.

“Can’t wait,” a small smile plays on your lips.

Everything about this has felt casual and you love that, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t want to have the typical romantic experiences. This would amongst the first few dates you three had gone on.

Pietro storms into the office breaking up the relaxed atmosphere they had been sitting in. The man looks like he is complete emotional distress.

“I need to talk to Y/n.”

His sister wants to question him, but with one shake of your head she pulls her wife out of the office.

“What’s wrong, Piet?”

He doesn’t hold it together much longer as he signals he needs a hug. You stand up quickly and wrap your arms around him. You feel his tears hit his shoulder and admittedly, your worry multiplies.

“Monica,” he says in his broken tone.

You rub his back soothingly, “What about her?”

He pulls away, “ Two months we lasted, Y/n. I had asked her to be official she said yes, but she’s ended things with me.”

“Oh Piet.”

He shakes his head, “It’s worse than that. She indebted to Fisk, Y/n. She owes him money and favors, she never told me because he’s never come to collect. But now, he’s cashing in.”

You frown deeply, “So she’s protecting you.”

“I need to be protecting her,” he grits his teeth.

You feel for your friend, you don’t believe you have the right words to bring him comfort, “ But you don’t know how.”

Pietro has a new fire in his eyes, “With a bullet in his skull. He’s tried to take everything from me. Papa, you, and now the love of my life.”

You knew the man could be hotheaded at times, and for once you knew he had every right to be. Yet, you couldn’t justify him doing something irrational.

“When the time comes, he will be dealt with,” you say.

Pietro shakes his head, “Nothings happened since your attack, everything is settling. This war will drag on and on if we let it."

“We can’t tear apart the city for no reason, Piet. It’s a bad look from us,” you try to reason with him.

“I know that, but it’s not what I want to hear.”

He slumps down on your office couch with his head in his hands. You sit next to him and rub his shoulder.

“How about we do something tonight, like old times? Something so that we can feel normal for once,” you suggest.

“I can’t even text her because what if she becomes a pawn in this scheme,” he sighs.

“ We’re hanging out tonight. To take your mind off of this, even if it’s only for a moment,” you speak sincerely to him.

He nods slowly in agreement, “Fine, but only because I don’t want to be alone and maybe I’ve missed you. Wanda too, I miss when timed were simpler.”

You get a little excited, “Tonight, me, you, Wanda, Natasha we can do something together. It’ll be reminiscent of old times.”

Pietro agrees and you let him stay in the office as you work. You texted Wanda and Natasha filling them on the details. They were understanding about having to cancel your plans. Natasha also took note of Monica as one of Fisk’s new allies.

The three of you brainstorm to come up with some plans to help your friend for the time being. The night still had promise and none of you wanted to waste it.

Unfortunately for you all, the air was about become ten times more suffocating and no one would see it coming.

Fisk knew you all would become complacent sooner or later, drop you guards prematurely. He was watching unfold and getting ready to strike again, however this time, he planned for the kill shot.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 37: Pieces

Mitchum sends you to where he wants you as Joel questions Cody. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-36 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and several steps beyond that. Fairly graphic torture (not of reader.) Mention of past sexual assault, not described. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 6k

A/N: As with the last chapter, I want to state, real quick, that Bambi is NOT going to be sexually assaulted again. This is a highly triggering subject and, given the situation she's in, I understand if folks are bracing for it. That's not going to happen. The threat of it is there but it's not going to happen.

We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. This character returns THIS CHAPTER. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

They were talking about you like you weren’t there. 

You’d been used to that once but it had been a long time since you’d been just a thing, separate from that life about as long as you’d suffered it. You had forgotten just how much you hated this part of being a prisoner. You’d internalized so many of the more acute horrors that the smaller things had slipped away, but the change from human being to livestock was sharp. You didn’t have much in you to fight against anything - still barely able to stand - but it seemed what little there was faded quickly just listening to the men talk about you as though you were some unruly animal. 

“Take her back to the main camp,” Mitchum said, taking your arm and turning you around so he could look you over. “She’s good on a horse, don’t let her near the reins. Don’t be stupid enough to think this one won’t take off just because she’s down some fingers, she’s a feral thing. That fucking moron… Get her there and don’t fuck her, understand? She’s mine and I gotta make sure she’s broken in right. Been wild too long, gonna have to start from scratch.” 

He took your chin in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his own. 

“Gonna bring you back where you belong,” he said. “I tamed you once, I can do it again.” 

You didn’t say anything, all your energy going in to keeping yourself standing. You tried to think about something, anything, beyond how close Mitchum was to you again, every alarm bell your body had ringing. Where his fingers were on you burned and your heart raced, the blood loss and fear making your head spin.

The only thing that could be worse than being this close to him again was Savvy and Ellie being this close to him. The thought that you’d saved them from this was a small comfort. You hoped they made it back. You had to believe they made it. You weren’t sure you’d have the strength to keep going otherwise. They made it, they made it back to Jackson, they were safe there. 

But the men were talking about Jackson, too. Like it was something they could take. What’s worse, they sounded confident that they could do it. It was something that had seemed impossible when you were within the walls, everything so strong and permanent. How could the will of men destroy something like that? But now that you were here, back in the grip of what terrified you, it didn’t seem so impossible anymore. Jackson was just people, too. Good people, strong people who had decided to survive and work and love alongside each other but people all the same. It doesn’t take some act of God to destroy a person, just one other, determined person can do the job. 

You couldn’t handle considering that, not when the only things in the world that mattered were dependent on Jackson to be safe. You had to believe that Jackson could withstand whatever came its way, that Ellie and Savvy had made it back, that they would be safe within its walls and would never have to face men like Mitchum and Cody again. They made it, they made it back to Jackson and they were safe. The whole city was.

You thought it over and over again in your head, a mantra of sorts, as they brought you to a horse and forced you on its back. You were too out of it to grab the reins immediately, a man mounting up in front of you before you could think twice about taking control of the animal. 

“Better not try anything back there if you know what’s good for you,” the man snapped before making the horse move. You just tried to stay upright and tried to think of ways to escape once you were strong enough to run. You had to resist the urge to try now, every nerve in your body on fire and driving you to run or fight. But you couldn’t. You’d never survive a fight right now and you’d only be able to walk a mile - maybe two - before you’d collapse and then they’d have you again. You needed to save your strength or you’d never get out. 

You tried to remind yourself that you’d done all this before. You’d survived what they did to you and made it out. You’d lived and built a life and found your daughter and protected what mattered. You’d done it once, you could do it again. You just had to survive. 

You focused on the people that you wanted to survive for - Savvy and Ellie and Joel and Maria and Tommy and William and Julie and and and - and tried to settle into the sway of the horse as it walked.

Time was strange like this, pulling and warping. It seemed like it was dark longer than it should have been when the sun started to rise and then, when the men stopped for a break, the sun seemed higher than it should have been. You drank water when it was offered. You watched for a chance to steal a horse - the only way you thought you’d be able to make it far in that moment - but didn’t get one. 

The light hadn’t yet taken on the soft, hazy quality of evening when you reached where you were headed. It was an unfamiliar place, a small subdivision - maybe two dozen houses total - with mountains at its back. There was a guarded perimeter, men in cowboy hats who gave the men you were with a nod as they rode in. 

They brought you to the center of the neighborhood, to a house that was small but looked to be in good repair, two men stationed outside. 

“Down,” the man you were riding with ordered. You obeyed, sliding off the horse and stumbling, head spinning. He dismounted more smoothly before grabbing you by the collar of your shirt - Joel’s shirt - and hauled you for the door, one of the guards meeting him there. He took a padlock off the front door before opening it and shoving you inside, past a small living room with a sunken sofa and a kitchen with counters covered in a thick layer of dust. He forced you down a hall to a bedroom. You were almost positive it had been a little girl’s room once but it had been stripped of all forms of childish comfort. There were two twin sized mattresses on the floor, tucked into corners on opposite pink walls. There had been carpet once, you were sure, but it had been pulled up, just the plywood below remaining. There was a bucket at the foot of each bed and some drywall had been pulled away near each bed, exposing the frame of the walls, chains wrapped around a stud near either bed. 

“On the bed,” the man ordered, shoving you toward it and making you stumble. You more fell onto the mattress than sat on it but it didn’t seem to make a difference. He approached you and you went to kick him, not about to let him just take what he wanted without a fight, but he caught your boot, giving you a sharp shake when he did. “Just making sure you don’t run. Sit still or this will hurt a lot more than it needs to.” 

He pulled your boot off before you had a chance to respond and tossed it near the door before picking up the chain. It was thick and heavy, no cuff on the end. He wrapped it around your ankle, tight enough that it cut into your flesh a little, and put a padlock through the loops to hold it in place. He gave it a testing pull and it didn’t budge. He nodded. 

“Recommend you rest while you can,” he said, dropping your leg. “Mitchum’s back in a day or two, don’t imagine you’ll have much while he’s here.” 

He turned to leave and you looked to the other mattress. There was a smear of blood near the chain that was still bright red, like it hadn’t dried yet. There was someone else who had been here, someone recently. The door closed and locked and you stretched out on the bed, trying to force your body and mind to still enough that you could rest. 

It didn’t work very well. You faded in and out of consciousness for a while - you weren’t entirely sure how long but you were fairly certain night had fallen. The window in the room was covered with yellowed newspaper but you were pretty sure you’d seen light coming through it earlier in the day. It was dark now. 

It took you a moment to realize what had pulled you back to consciousness. There was a scuffle outside your door, the sound of someone being wrestled inside. You shot up, scrambling to find something you might be able to use as a weapon but came up empty, the room stripped of anything that could be a tool and your mind still working slowly. You were still down a lot of blood. 

The door opened and you braced yourself to claw and bite but the man there paid you no mind. Instead, he shoved a tall, broad young woman in, one with a blonde fishtail braid that hung down her back. Something inside you twinged at the sight of her, a distant alarm bell ringing. She was familiar, you couldn’t see her face but you knew her. You could feel it.

The man forced her onto the opposite mattress and all but threw the chain around her ankle before locking it into place. 

“If you’re fuckin’ smart, you’ll behave yourself,” the man backed away from her, panting for breath with a cut on his cheek. “If you weren’t one of Mitchum’s favorite toys, I’d kill you myself.” 

“Fuck you,” she spat, lifting her head from the mattress, her teeth bared in a snarl. Your breath caught, the fingers from your intact hand groping for the chain attached to your ankle, your best hope for a weapon. 

You did know this woman - almost more of a girl in spite of her size and strength, she couldn’t be much older than Ellie and definitely young enough to be your daughter. You didn’t know her name or where she was from or why she had tried to murder your husband but you knew her, knew how she looked when she was filled with rage and desperate to kill a man. Knew how she looked as she beat Joel until he was bloody and half dead. Your grip on the chain tightened. 

The man left and you weren’t sure if the two of them had said anything else, the high pitched whine that had taken over your ears only just beginning to fade. 

She seemed to notice you then, straining to sit up, her eyes wide at first but narrowing when she reached your face. 

She recognized you, too. 

“You,” she was still panting for breath, leaning against the wall at her back, sneering at you. Watching you. “I should have known they’d find some other fucking way to torture me.” 

You watched her back, ready to defend yourself in case she made a move. 

“I could have said the same thing about you.” 

***

Joel wasn’t aware of much. 

There were gunshots but they were of little consequence. The screams didn’t register, either. Neither did the sweat on his neck or the pain in his back or the pull in his leg that had been there ever since he was shot by the girl who wanted him dead. 

He could feel your blood on his hands, though, and the feel of your fingers in his pocket and hear the thud of his heart and he could see. He could see Cody on his horse but he could see how you’d been afraid of him, too. That day in the stable when Joel held you and you were so scared you could barely stay standing. He could see how it would have happened, how this man would have cut away pieces of you. How scared you would have been, how you would have fought anyway, how you would have screamed. 

All Joel really knew in that moment was that he needed to hurt this man. He needed to take every ounce of pain from his body until there was nothing else left inside of him and he needed him to know, as he died, that he was dying for you. 

Cody tried to dodge Joel as he threw himself at him, the horse stutter stepping away as Cody tried to pull it back while also grabbing his gun. But he wasn’t fast enough, Joel’s hands closing around the edges of the man’s jacket as he yanked him to the ground, Cody’s gun flying into the trees. 

But Cody was not a small man and his thrashing weight threw Joel off balance, the two of them sprawling to the forest floor. Cody was younger and more agile and got to his feet first, pulling his knife free from his belt, lunging for Joel. But Joel was ready for him, kicking him in the gut so hard that it knocked the wind out of him and sent him stumbling back. He got to his feet, too, Cody leaning against a tree, knife out as he caught his breath. 

“You’re not gonna get her back,” he panted, a sneer on his face as he watched Joel. “She’s with him now and he’s not gonna let her go so easy this time. And when he’s done with her, don’t think you’ll even want her back.” 

There was commotion at Joel’s back but it barely registered. 

“I should have fucking killed you when I had the chance,” Joel said, watching him closely. “She was too good to you. She’s always been better than anyone left fuckin’ deserved, least of all you.” 

“And she should’ve known what I gave her when I let her go,” he said, standing up a little straighter now, breath caught. “Instead of being an ungrateful cunt.” 

Joel roared and threw himself at Cody, the other man striking out at him with his knife. He nicked Joel’s shoulder with the blade but he barely noticed it, the blow not really hurting so much as being filed away as information, things he would need to contend with at some point when Cody’s blood was cold on the ground. 

Joel threw a punch, catching Cody on the jaw and he stumbled for a moment before lunging at Joel, striking out with the knife again but falling short and following up with a clumsy fist after. Joel caught his hand and twisted it, the other man giving a sharp yelp. Joel liked the sound, the evidence of his pain soothing the gnawing desperation inside him. 

But his satisfaction was short lived, the knife slamming into Joel’s shoulder making him seize up for a moment. He was aware that it should hurt, that there was metal inside him now that didn’t belong, but all it did was bring everything into sharper focus. This knife was probably the one that had drawn your blood, too. It seemed right that he should suffer it with you after he’d failed at doing what he’d vowed to do. 

The split second of the shock of the stab passed quickly and Joel drove Cody back into the tree, slamming his back into the trunk of it and knocking the air out of him, his head hitting the bark with a sickening thud. Joel didn’t relent. Instead, he punched him across the face, one arm holding the man in place as he hit him again and again. 

This satisfaction held longer. Cody’s fingers scramble and clawed at Joel, trying to find purchase somewhere they could pull him away from his singular mission but that was impossible. Joel’s physical body didn’t matter to him anymore, not without you, and every small hurt was swallowed by the drive to destroy. 

“Joel!” Tommy’s arm looped around Joel’s neck, pulling him back from Cody who slipped down the tree trunk, his hands limp on the blood coated leaves, his chest still rising and falling, eyes blinking as he stared into space. Joel strained to pull away from Tommy’s grip but his brother held him firm as he panted for breath. “Joel, you can’t kill him yet, we need information. We kept one of the others alive but we need information or we’ll never find her. He’s alive, we need him to stay a live a little longer.” 

Joel slumped forward in Tommy’s grip and his hold on him loosened, starting to feel his body again. His knuckles hurt and were slick with blood. Joel wasn’t sure how much was Cody’s and how much was his own. There was a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder and he reached back with his other arm, flinching as he did, before taking hold of the knife and pulling the blade free. He heard Tommy wince as he did and Joel brought the weapon around in front of him, holding it up for a moment. His blood was slick over half the blade, the edge serrated. 

“You cut off my wife’s fingers with this?” Joel panted, squatting down to be on Cody’s level, holding the knife up. His own voice sounded odd to him, so normal when everything was so wrong. 

“Wait, what?” Ellie stalked over to him and Joel glanced up at her. There was a cut on her cheek and her eyes were wide. Joel turned back to Cody and reached into his pocket, gently pulling your fingers free before setting them on Cody’s stomach. “Motherfucker!” 

Joel barely registered the sound of Tommy wrestling Ellie away, too focused on the man in front of him to worry about anything else. 

“Did you cut off my wife’s fingers with this?” Joel said again, voice flat. 

Cody struggled to swallow and Joel took hold of his jaw, yanking his head around so he was looking right at him. 

“Answer the question.” 

Cody blinked a few times before taking a shaky breath. 

“Yes.” 

There was a rattle in his voice and blood on his teeth. 

“Good.” 

Joel took the knife and thrust it into his thigh, just over his knee. Cody screamed and squirmed uselessly under him and Joel waited, keeping constant pressure down on the blade, giving him no relief. 

As he quieted - gasping for breath, eyes wide and bloodshot - Joel pulled the knife from his leg and wiped the blood on his jeans. 

“Gonna hurt you like you hurt her,” he said, picking up Cody’s hand from the ground. He started trying to pull it away, heavy breaths shifting to hyperventilation, but Joel held firm, forcing the hand down to the man’s thigh. “What, you afraid of me usin’ your knife the way you do? That it? Can’t be that bad, can it?” 

“No,” he panted. “No, please, I’ll give you whatever you want, I’ll…” 

Joel lined the blade up with the smallest knuckle on Cody’s pinky and cut through it in one devastating push, the man screaming and writhing and trying to pull his hand into his chest to comfort himself but Joel didn’t let him. 

“You’ll give me what I want?” Joel asked, putting the knife at the next joint down. “But what if what I want is my wife? What if what I want is your pain, hm? You give me that?” 

He cut again, the blade meeting more resistance this time. Joel pushed through it, the knife cutting through the denim of his jeans on the other side of his hand as he screamed again. Cody closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree and Joel resisted the urge to beat his face in. He had to leave him alive for a little while longer. 

And besides, he couldn’t take more pain from him if he was dead. 

“No, you don’t get to fuckin’ pass out on me,” Joel stabbed the knife through his hand, pinning it to his thigh before grabbing his hair by the fistful, bringing his head forward so it was only inches from Joel’s own. He could smell the blood on his skin, clearly see the trails of salt on his cheeks. “You get to be awake for this. Doubt you ever let her pass out, did you? Not about to do you any favors. Now, you focus on me, understand?” 

Cody managed a nod. Joel dragged the blade through is palm, between the webbing of his fingers, cutting a path through the delicate bones of his hand and the thick muscle of his thigh as Cody begged and screamed. The wound at Joel’s shoulder ached. He couldn’t bring himself to care about either thing. 

He held Cody’s hand in place again and gave him a second to quiet and catch his breath before lining the knife up at the base of his pinky. 

“Please,” he panted, eyes so desperate as they met Joel’s. “Please, I can’t…” 

“Can’t what?” Joel asked, brows raised. “Can’t survive what you did to her?” 

Joel cut, separating the bloody remains of the finger from Cody’s hand and casting it aside. Cody’s screams were growing hoarse and Joel ground his teeth. He still needed answers from him and he needed to be able to talk for that. 

He pulled the knife away, holding it firmly and watching as the other man caught his breath. 

“I can make this easier,” Joel said after a moment. “You tell me where she is? I kill you. Quick. Maybe not painless but not as bad as this. You’re not leavin’ here alive. Should have killed you in Jackson months ago. Hell, should have fucking found you years ago and killed you then but I didn’t. Not about to let you go again. But it’s up to you if how I kill you is for you or for me, if it’s fast or if it’s slow.”

“I…” the wet rattle of Cody’s breath was sharper now. “I can’t… I can’t trust you to do it quick…” 

“Yes you can,” Joel said. “You tell me where my wife is? I’m gonna go get her. Not gonna want to waste more time here with you. It’ll be quick if you just tell me.” 

Cody’s eyes searched Joel’s for a moment, like he would find some kind of answer in them. Joel didn’t need to see his reflection to know that the only thing Cody would find in his gaze was the hollow, desperate pain of your loss. There wasn’t anything else left in him to see. 

“I traded her,” he said. “To Mitchum. Met… met him about 10 miles north east of here but he won’t still be there. I don’t think he’d keep her with him - he never did before, always… always had her at his base…” 

“And where’s that,” Joel asked when he trailed off. Cody’s neck went limp and Joel grabbed his chin again, giving him a sharp shake and forcing his eyes to spring open. “Stay with me, focus right here. Where is Mitchum’s base? Where would he take her?” 

“Little spot,” he panted. “Just… a bunch of houses, don’t know if it’s got a name…” 

“Tommy!” Joel called without even glancing back at him. “Need a map.” 

It took a few seconds before Tommy appeared, handing Joel a wrinkled and worn map. 

“Point to where it is on this map,” Joel said, releasing his bloody, four fingered hand. “Your buddy over there know where it is?” Cody nodded, shaky, once. “Good. You point where it is. He’d better point to the same goddamn spot.”

He handed the map back to Tommy and kept Cody in his sights, watching as his skin grew pale and his head listless and limp. There was a scuffle and scream behind him, loud enough that Cody shocked back to full consciousness with it. 

“Sounds like your friend don’t know what’s good for him,” Joel said, taking Cody’s bloodied hand and forcing it to his thigh again. “Or what’s good for you.” 

“No,” he shook his head, his eyes so wide. “No, please!” 

“Tell him to cooperate,” Joel said. 

“Do what he says!” Cody screamed. “Just do it, please!” 

Joel pressed the knife to the base of his ring finger and cut. He was almost surprised at how easy it was to force the blade through the bone and sinew. He could barely feel the strain of it as Cody screamed below him. The knife sank a bit into his leg as it cut through the last of the skin and Joel picked the finger up, holding it in front of Cody’s crying eyes. 

“She scream like you?” Joel asked, turning the piece of his captive slowly before them both, the wet of his blood catching the light like the fractures in the glass of his watch. “You like hearin’ it like I like hearin’ you?” 

“Please,” Cody managed, voice ragged and hoarse.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked, lowering the severed finger but keeping it firmly in his grip. “You already took her, already were handing her over to that… animal. Why’d you need to hurt her, too.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Joel thrust the knife into his upper thigh, inches shy of the man’s crotch and he gasped, mouth open in a silent scream. He was wearing out, inching closer and closer to death. 

“Don’t give a shit about your sorry,” Joel said. “Why. Tell me.” 

He gave Cody a second to start to recover from the pain before twisting the knife, making him seize again. 

“Tell me.” 

“She tried to run!” He sobbed, collapsing back down again. “She… she tried to run, killed two of my men. And she never… never appreciated what I did for her then…” 

Joel just nodded slowly. You’d been able to try to run, at least before Cody took your fingers. You weren’t so scared that you couldn’t move, weren’t so beaten that you couldn’t run. That was a good sign. You were a survivor. He had to remember that. You’d survived before. You would now, too. You would still be alive for him to find, for him to save, and he would save you. If it was the last thing he did, he would save you.

“Joel,” Tommy was at his side and it was quiet at his back. “Same spot.” 

“Good,” Joel said. He carefully picked your fingers up from where they’d fallen in the leaves at Cody’s side and tucked them away in his pocket again before getting to his feet. Ellie was at his side, her rifle in her hands. 

“I want to hurt him,” she said, her voice flat. 

Joel looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since they’d found Cody. There was a darkness in her eyes that terrified him in its familiarity. It was the look she’d had for a split second when he’d found her after David had taken her from him. It was sharp and vicious and demanding and Joel wasn’t sure she knew how to come back from it. 

“Will hurtin’ him help you?” Joel asked as gently as he could. She looked up at him, that sharp look still in her eyes. 

“He hurt my mother,” she said, a hint of barely contained rage on her face. “I need to make him pay.” 

He considered her for a second, trying to think clearly as he looked at the young woman who had once been the girl he’d shepherded across the country. In so many ways, she was still that little girl, one who he’d protected and failed at protecting, one who he had saved and had led to her near demise.

Would this be any worse than anything she had already suffered? Would it hurt her any worse than the things that Joel had allowed on his watch before, when he hadn’t been good enough to take care of her the way she deserved? Would it be, somehow, any more terrible because he allowed it? 

Ellie was so like him in so many ways, ways that terrified him when he thought about it. There was a passion in her that so easily bloomed into rage and he knew what it was to keep that stifled and smothered. He knew, too, what it was to take it out on another human being, even one who deserved it. 

He adjusted his grip on the knife and held the handle out to her. She went to take it but he pulled it back for a moment. 

“Can’t kill him,” Joel said. “Understand?” 

“Joel…” Tommy said at his back, but Joel just held out his empty hand, silencing him. 

“Understand?” He repeated, watching Ellie closely. 

She hesitated a moment, watching him back with those sharp, dark eyes. 

“I understand,” she said, taking the knife from him and turning to Cody. She cocked her head, examining him cooly. 

“Please,” the man whispered, looking up at her. 

“Which fingers did he take?” Ellie asked, not looking back at Joel. 

“Outside two,” Joel said, a twinge in his chest as he said it. “Her wedding ring with ‘em.” 

Ellie nodded, her grip tightening on the knife before lowering her knee to pin Cody’s wrist of his intact hand to the ground. 

“I told you I was gonna fucking kill you,” she said, her voice dangerous as the man tried weakly to pull his arm away from her. “My dad told me not to do that. But I am going to make you fucking pay.” 

She slammed the knife into his hand with a sharp, angry cry, more hacking at him than cutting, striking him again and again until she was splattered with blood and Cody had screamed himself to silence. Joel’s stomach twisted at the sight of it, the satisfaction at knowing Cody’s agony twinged with an ache of his own at the sound of Ellie’s pained scream. 

“If you’re just gonna let her fuckin’…” Tommy snapped, nudging Joel roughly to the side and stepping around him to wrap his arms around Ellie from behind, forcing her to still. She quieted then, no longer screaming and just sobbing instead. “It’s OK baby girl. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up…” 

“No!” She tried to shake him loose but he held firm. “I want him to hurt! I want to make him hurt, I want him fucking dead, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve to live, he doesn’t…” 

“I know,” Tommy said gently. “I know. But you hear him? He’s passed out, you’re not gonna make him regret this any more than he already does and Joel’s gonna finish him. He’s not gonna live, OK? He’s paid for it, he’s hurt for it, it’s OK baby girl.” 

The knife slipped from her hold then, lying beside the mangled flesh and bone that had once been Cody’s hand. His pinky and ring fingers were completely gone. 

“C’mon,” Tommy said again. “Gonna get you cleaned up, let Joel finish the job, then we’ll get movin’. You’re OK.” 

He pulled her gently to her feet and gave Joel a deadly look as he passed, Ellie gathered against his side as he led her away. 

Joel knelt and picked up the knife, every inch of it splattered in blood now. He didn’t care. He took Cody’s chin in his hand and gave his head a sharp shake and the man gave a sharp gasp before trying to cough but choked on his own blood instead, his eyes opening slowly. He couldn’t even lift his head now, his eyes the only thing it seemed he could really move. 

“Wanted you to be awake for this,” Joel said, his voice a deadly calm. “Wanted to make sure you felt it. Wanted to be sure you knew why you were dying.”

Joel thrust the knife into Cody’s side, burying it fully between two ribs and twisting it there. His eyes went wide and his body thrashed as much as it could but it was a useless endeavor. He started gasping for breath, the gurgling sound of him starting to drown in his own blood overwhelming the sound of the woods around them as Joel pulled the knife from his side. 

“You could have lived, you know,” Joel continued. “Could have spent the rest of your years anywhere but Jackson, never would have looked for you. She asked me not to look for you, to just leave you alive. Felt like she owed you somethin’. Maybe she thought you’d been a good man once, long time ago. But you and me, we know the truth. You were never a good man, never had it in you to be good. You didn’t deserve her mercy so you ain’t gettin’ mine.”

“You…” he gasped and choked. “Promised…” 

“Promised what?” He asked. “To make it quick for you?” 

He didn’t give Cody a chance to respond. Joel just shrugged. 

“I lied.” 

He thrust the knife in between the same ribs on the other side, twisting it and pulling it free before wiping the worst of the blood on Cody’s pants and getting back to his feet. He put his hand in his pocket, the one that held the pieces of you. He traced your wedding band with his thumb, feeling your cold skin below his touch. How many times had this flesh laced with his? How many times had it tangled in his hair or squeezed his arm or touched his cheek? 

He held it himself now, trying to keep the pieces of you warm as Cody drowned in his own blood. His dying breaths were harsh and rasping and desperate, the last gasp of his mortality clinging to this life as though there was anything but pain to be found for him here. As if there was anything he deserved beyond pain. Just before the light left his eyes, Joel picked Cody’s fingers up off the ground and opened his mouth, forcing them inside. He stood back again, watching as he tried to take two quick, shallow breaths around them before going completely still. 

“Joel,” Tommy said from behind him. 

Joel looked down at Cody’s body for a moment longer. This man had hurt you, raped you, taken you. He was dead now, at Joel’s hand. There was justice in that. He spit on his body all the same. 

He turned to find his brother and daughter standing side by side, Ellie’s eyes still sharp but rimmed in red, her cheeks puffy. Both of them were wet, Ellie no longer splattered in blood. 

“We should move,” Joel said, stalking toward Cody’s horse. Tommy just watched him as Joel mounted up, the horse pawing at the ground for a moment as he got settled. He looked back at his brother. “If you ain’t got the stomach, Tommy, I’ll do this myself…” 

“I’m comin’,” Tommy said, going to another horse and mounting up, too. “Just hope you don’t get lost in the process.” 

Joel didn’t say anything. What was there to say? That the man he had the potential to be had left when you did? That, without you, there was nothing left to lose? 

He didn’t need to say it. Somehow, he was sure, Tommy knew. 

Instead, he nudged his horse forward, starting on the path given to him by the man he’d left in pieces on the ground. 

Next Chapter

A/N: So Joel is pretttttttty damn feral at this point. I'm not sure I've ever written a Joel quite this unhinged and that's not even accounting for the fact that the juxtaposition between Jackson Joel and Feral Joel is pretty harsh. He's just gone, at least for now.

There are just three chapters left of this fic now (I think, the way some of this chapter flowed means it may grow to 41 chapters but I don't think so)! Next chapter is going to be a big one, one that's been building for the whole of this fic and I'm so excited for it. I hope you are, too!

Thanks for being here through this INSANELY lengthy journey both in word/chapter count and in time. It feels like we've been with Joel and Bambi forever and that's because we kind of have been - almost a year now! I hope you've enjoyed the ride. I know I have.

Love you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

[call-me-cheese]

Yooooo always good to see new writers on here

Could you do some hurt/comfort with Charlie and Vaggie (specifically poly chaggie x reader, but if you don't do that, separate is fine), where the reader is in the fight at the hotel and saves Charlie from Adam (in place of Lucifer), but is seriously injured in the process and sort of lost in the chaos. Then, once the angels retreat and things are calmer, Charlie and Vaggie find reader beaten and bloody, practically on death's door, but hanging on as the two try their best to stabilize the reader

But the reader survives at the end because there needs to be a happy ending to it :(

Charlie x reader x Vaggie

A/n: I had rewatched the final episode for 4 times and I will go and cry about it. But I hope you will like it, here is 916 words(if you are interested in it).

Your spear struck Adam's face with a slashing motion, throwing it away from Charlie. You may not have been perfect with polearms, but the time you spent with the Vaggie definitely made sense, usually without incredible strength, you could easily throw an almost 2-meter man away from your girlfriend. The adrenaline in your blood does its job, completely numbing the pain of the wounds sustained in the battle with the exorcists and allowing you to focus your attention on Charlie's defense. Adam was thrown to the side of the impact, and you turned to Charlie, checking how she was.

"How are you, Charlie? I definitely should have hurried." You turned to her, giving her a hand so she could get up.

"Thank you!" said Charlie as she walked up to you, hugging you tightly, and you gave her a gentle pat on the back to make her loosen her grip.

Somewhere in the background, Adam rises and begins to curse both you and Charlie, and you turn to him, walking slowly towards him, leaving one of your girls behind.

"How dare you, wretched accomplice of heaven, touch our ray of sunshine Charlie?!" -- your spear changes its position with lightning speed, the thin shiny blade of angel steel is very close to his body, yes you are not in the best shape, yes you see that Vaggie also needs help, but compared to Charlie, at least she is an experienced fighter and knows about the tactics of angels, so you're probably better off staying close to Charlie.

"Who are you? How many of you are gathered here? Moreover, why do you care so much about her? Okay, devils, you're going to be a piece of cake, haha!" -- Adam stood up, shaking off his clothes and spreading his wings, ready to take off, while you, seeing this, decide that you need to attack before the moment of takeoff, because there he will have an incredible advantage.

You attacked quickly, but despite this, Adama deflected almost all the blows, your imperfect technique, although easy to guess, a few cuts appeared on his mask and clothes. Suddenly, you heard Charlie trying to shout something at you, and you let Adam take off. Charlie called you in case of Lute that tried to attack you from behind to distract you from Adam, but Charlie and Vaggie teamed up and protected you.

"Thank you, darlings," you quickly thanked them and turned your attention back to Adam.

At least you tried, as Adam had already unleashed his magic on you, literally cutting the entire hotel building in half. And if Charlie has Vaggie to catch and hold her, there was no one for you in particular. That is why it was you who fell into the crack between the buildings.

You were lucky, the beams fell above you, which very successfully saved you from other debris, the adrenaline in your blood stopped working, the pain from the injuries came flooding over you and seemed several times stronger than it really was, there was no strength left to move or at least some signal, so all you could do was lie down and hope. Charlie and Vaggie will definitely find you, it can't be otherwise. Occupied with such thoughts, your brain gradually shuts down.

The next thing you feel is a cool, slightly rough hand, you instantly recognize it as a Vaggie's hand that was touching your neck in search of a pulse. Your eyes open a little and are dazzlingly bright compared to the dark silence your brain was in during the faint, contrasting so strongly that it hurts your eyes. You squint, turning away, trying to shield yourself from the light and the sounds around you.

"Honey, she's awake," says Vaggie beside you, and Charlie's shadow instantly blocks out the light, bringing relaxation to your buzzing head. So you try to open your eyes and look around without still fully regaining consciousness. Charlie hugs you, touching several open wounds, which makes you groan in pain. You want to ask about the situation, about the situation with the angels, but as soon as your lips open, all your senses come back to you, you begin to feel dust and dryness in your mouth, the surface of the ground beneath you, destroyed and not at all pleasant, dried up your blood, mixed with angelic blood and other things that fell on you during the fight and, To be honest, you start to want to feel nothing again.

"Shut up," Charlie and the Vaggie tell you at the same time. They also lift you up and transport you to a more comfortable surface at the same time. It is quite pleasant and the lack of constant tension in your body allows you to faint once again.

The next time you wake up, your body is tightly wrapped in bandages and the sensation of pervasive dust that caused incredible sensory disgust is gone. You're in the shade, lying on something soft. There is no sensation of pain either, it looks like you have been fainting for a relatively long time.

"Veggie, Veggie, come here!" -- Charlie is nowhere to be seen, but you can recognize her voice everywhere. You can also hear Vaggie's voice, but you can't make out what she said, she probably answered Charlie.

They hug you, you're sure Charlie is crying because something wet has touched your cheek. You, too, are glad that at least these two dearest people are alive.

So as I already said I hope that you enjoyed it)

[sadcoms]

timepetals thoughts i keep having:

i know that the assumption is “she is my s-” means soulmate but i always think he just thinks of rose as his soul. less that she completes him or is his other half and more that she just is his conscience and any goodness he may have is hers. he was born out of love for her, she is such an integral part of him, she is his soul itself.

i know everyone has taken permanent damage from the “how long are you going to stay with me” and why the general focus is on the doctor’s reaction but the way rose says forever gets to me. she’s not giddy or girlish when she says it, in some ways she almost sounds resigned to it, which has wonderfully angsty connotations in the timeline of s2. but it’s why it really works for me, she is so dead serious and committed when she says it, because she understands everything it means (and therefore part of her feels solemn about it). it has a lot of weight to it. even the first time donna says she’s going to travel with the doctor forever to martha at the end of the doctor’s daughter she sounds a lot more fanciful.

every time i hear the doctor scream when rose loses her grip in doomsday i just think that he would absolutely not have survived her actually being sucked into the void.

i always think the vocals in doomsday are similar to the doctor’s theme so to me the angry rock music is rose’s side and the vocals are his, rather than the howling wolf idea i’ve heard some people compare it to. how the doctor’s theme is lonely and mournful with its sparse instruments but calm, everything the ninth doctor was, while doomsday is heartbroken and angry and an entire orchestra because it’s two people overcome with grief together. how doomsday becomes such a motif for both characters individually, even when they're separated.

i still struggle to comprehend that the doctor wearing floral ties in s3 is canon and NOT a fanfic trope like you're telling the doctor said "i need a floral motif as close to my two hearts as possible" and you're describing him as something other than a grieving widower???

the doctor really could not go anywhere in s3 without running into some kind of couple but i never see people talk about the parallels in 42. “we chose this ship together / he keeps me honest so i don’t want false hope” and the way the doctor literally gives mcdonnell his condolences through gritted teeth?? the fact that she would rather die with korwin than be without him and have it be her fault

that the doctor, king of self-loathing, saw rose dressed as his ninth self and carrying a giant weapon and he not only RAN to her but then deliberately protected her from the trauma of seeing him change again. and then tentoo immediately picks a blue suit to be like now i’m matchey matchey with rose 🥰 the universe was ending and he’d seen rose again for two actual minutes but the doctor was so utterly focused on her.

how tentoo truly is rose's doctor, especially as he's got that little bit of nine in him. he's born out of the same love and protection of his previous incarnations but he loses a heart and the curse of the timelords and goes oh, this is rose's heart. and then he wears the blue mourning suit and yes, there is still mourning, but there is also the start of the rest of their lives together.

how the doctor’s hair most noticeably changed after school reunion to become spikier and less boyish. how that coincides with him using mickey to put distance between himself and rose now that he’s been reminded of rose’s mortality.

how wild the doctor and jack’s conversation in utopia is. the way the doctor says “rose” like it’s an entire explanation in itself because even before she absorbed the time vortex she fundamentally changed the life of everyone she met. the way he says “everything she did was so human” and the way he accepts jack’s sorry to him because there’s no trying to deny his feelings from jack, not when he saw his ninth self. the way jack has BARELY finished his sentence about watching rose grow up when the doctor casually asks him if he wants to die, the almost playful way he says it. one semi suicidal immortal who spent half of the season trying to get himself killed to another, both of them still kind of toying with the idea. both of them trying to have hope even though they've lost so much.

[xeno828]

I just had a horrible thought: Caitlyn and Vi being separated in Act 1 probably saved both their lives and the entire world.

If Vi stayed with Caitlyn, she would’ve kept trying to be Cait’s voice of reason, calling out Ambessa’s BS every chance she got (like she does immediately in Cait’s office). Ambessa would’ve seen her as an obstacle to manipulating Caitlyn. And knowing Ambessa? She’d set up some kind of “accident” to take Vi out, probably framing Jinx for it. Caitlyn, full of grief and rage, would’ve been even more hellbent on revenge against Jinx, falling further into Ambessa’s control.

When Caitlyn brings Vi to Ambessa at the commune, Ambessa outright says, “Caitlyn cannot be distracted,” while reaching for a knife to kill Vi. This was never going to end well.

Without Vi, Caitlyn would’ve had no one to pull her out of this spiral. No feelings of guilt over leaving Vi behind to make her question her choices. No reunion that tips her doubt over the edge into full-on betrayal of Ambessa. Instead, Caitlyn would’ve been left alone, drowning in her grief, with only Ambessa guiding her actions and Maddie pretending to comfort her.

Even if Caitlyn eventually turned against Ambessa (which, let’s be real, she probably would’ve—Jayce shooting Viktor and Ambessa making deals with him would’ve been her breaking point), she would’ve been completely alone at the commune. No Vi. No backup. Just Ambessa, her army, and maybe even Riktus, who we already know almost killed Caitlyn in the past. She’d have no way out. The second Caitlyn showed any resistance to Ambessa, she would’ve been killed—or worse, turned into yet another martyr for Piltover’s war against Zaun.

And if Cait somehow survived all of this and tried to turn to Maddie? That sleeper agent would’ve been activated immediately, and Caitlyn would’ve been even more screwed.

Now let’s look at Jinx. Without Vi, Jinx would’ve either:

Gone completely off the rails.

Packed up with Isha and bailed.

Tried to save Vander alone and died in the process.

And even if Jinx, Isha, and Vander made it to the commune? No Caitlyn there to fight with them. No extra hextech gemstones for Isha to load into Jinx’s gun. No injured Vi to force them to work together. They all would’ve died. Jinx may be smart, but one gun versus Warwick-Vander, Ambessa, Riktus, and Caitlyn (still manipulated by Ambessa) isn’t going to end well.

No Vi = No Jinx coming to save Caitlyn in the final fight. No Jinx showing up with Ekko to blow up Viktor’s face with literal timebombs. No united Zaun rallying to help.

No Caitlyn = No one to help Mel take down Ambessa.

No Jinx = No united Zaun in the final fight.

No Ekko = No world-saving explosions.

ALL I’M SAYING IS: Caitlyn and Vi needed to be apart. It wasn’t just about saving themselves or (ironically) their relationship—it was about saving THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD.

[war-in-time]

Just saw this ask someone sent to another account I follow and would love to know your take/response/analysis.

I’ll link it, but essentially it brings up this defense of sotr and the cf tape being propaganda that people have been using which is that it makes sense for the Capitol to lean in to the image of Haymitch’s games we see in cf. People are saying it’s a mirror of the berry stunt rather than a parallel, an issue of disconnect between intention vs perception. The cf tape portrays Haymitch’s games as being an accidental act of rebellion because he survived by being smarter than the capitol and making them look stupid. He chose to use the force field but he didn’t intend it as an act of rebellion necessarily. His action was deliberate but the affect was an accident. People are saying sotr also portrays an accidental act of rebellion because him using the force field was literally an accident. The action and the affect were both unintentional (again no agency)

And people say that the capitol edited his games that way because the persona he built up as the rascal meant the audience would assume it was an act of rebellion even if that wasn’t his intention he was locked into the narrative due to people’s perception. Whereas with the berries katniss’ intention was to outsmart the capitol but her persona as the girl in love gave her and peeta a chance to twist the narrative away from the truth because people could reasonably perceive it as an act of desperation out of love. I’m in the same boat as anon that I guess it technically works with that explanation but something about it still feels off and I can’t tell exactly what it is.

And like I’m talking just this explanation of why the capitol would have to portray Haymitch the way they do in cf like this defense people use to make it make sense ignoring all the things that indicate the cf plot is true and the assassination of Haymitch’s character because of it etc. Like I want to break it down at a narrative level and see if it actually doesn’t work from a plot logic standpoint and why or if that’s just my bias showing because I read that explanation and it technically makes sense but it feels like it shouldn’t and I can’t pinpoint it. Anyways this is way too long I’m sorry here’s the link to the original ask I saw

https://www.tumblr.com/gudvina/779688252649226240/curious-about-your-thoughts-on-the-take-that-the

Also I’m sending a separate ask with a link to the post I’m assuming this anon is referencing that has the original argument (I don’t want to put that person on blast because that’s not the point of this lol)

—I’m not going to go into this but every time Haymitch gets called a “rascal” it fills me with an unimaginable anger. He was never a rascal but a straight up asshole. His literal description in CF for his interview is: Snarky, Arrogant, Indifferent. Which all lines up with how Haymitch acts outwardly to everyone in the og.—

I really don’t think it’s simple to think about and it’s not a simple answer to give either.

So we know for a fact that the hunger games get edited down into a 3 hour runtime by the capital, that’s just a fact. The people in charge of editing what’s roughly 2~ weeks of content down to 3 hours have their work cut out for them. They always focus on the victor from the very start of the film, meaning their entire interviews and most of what they did in the games are not only included but completely focused on. We know the capital cut out the part where Katniss covered Rue in flowers, but they did keep the portion where she sang to her, not that the re-run matters because everyone watched the games live and they would have seen the footage of her doing both regardless. But the point is they do pick and choose what goes into the cut.

So by that extend first of all we should have been shown Haymitch’s entire interview—it’s stated that Katniss and Peeta “get to see one full exchange between [Haymitch] and Caesar…”(CF.197) even if the whole thing isn’t written out, because Haymitch is the victor—in the re-run edited footage. His interview would never be one single line because everyone knows the interviews are longer than that and we’ve already been shown prior proof of how the process works with Katniss and Peeta.

As for Haymitch’s forcefield kill, while we know it was 100% accidental in sotr it was not in CF. Haymitch goes to the edge of the arena because he’s specifically looking for something that could help him win/survive. The exact quote is “I don’t know. But maybe there’s something we can use,”[Haymitch] says (CF.200). He lead the career tribute out there on purpose because it was his last shot at not necessarily winning but definitely surviving in that moment. Both him and the career girl are badly injured and bleeding out, Haymitch does start to convulse on the ground after the axe is thrown. While sotr portrays this as Haymitch’s legs giving out instead of him planning to drop, it makes little narrative sense; because right after the career girl dies and after his ‘knees gave out’ he was able to stand again to blow up a generated? Make it make sense.

Haymitch’s actions were definitely intentional and it would have caused a stir in the districts even if not in the capital itself, because it would have given other tributes the idea of “oh I can just do that if I get reaped now”. The capital citizens probably would have looked at Haymitch and thought “what a clever boy,” like people do when their dog performs a trick. That’s why Haymitch is then used as an example to all the other victors from that point (with his family being killed for the forcefield) to remind others like Johanna and Finnick that they need to stay in line and not stand against the regime.

Realistically the scene isn’t comparable to the berries but it did have an impact on the games going forward. In the 74th games when Katniss starts getting too far from the other tributes (or too close to the border of the arena) they set the forest on fire so she’s forced to go back towards the others. That to me sounds like the impact of letting a tribute get too close to the border of an arena, which showed that Haymitch did impact how the games were viewed/played; the capital (mainly Snow) didn’t want anyone using their machines to their advantage.

Haymitch wasn’t necessarily intending to use the forcefield as an acting rebellion but survival, he probably didn’t think his family would be killed for it. Katniss on the other hand was a full on rebellious move because “they need their victor” and she was not about to fight Peeta after he’d thrown his own weapon away. Katniss was definitely thinking of survival, she didn’t plan on becoming a symbol of rebellion, but in her own internal monologue she was doing it to spite the capital. And I’m not pulling from sotr at all, that’s just how I read the scene in CF. I genuinely don’t believe Haymitch was trying to actively rebel during his games but he was definitely looking to survive, he probably would have tried to find another way to survive if he knew what it would end up costing him.

I think this is where people are getting lost in propaganda really. It doesn’t matter what the game makers showed, or what the districts/capital people were shown, what matters is what the game makers saw. Realistically there is definitely a lot missing from Haymitch’s games in CF, but not necessarily from him but rather form everyone else in the arena. We know the re-run has to focus on Haymitch and from what we’re showing in HG the film is usually pretty accurate to what happens in the arena, even if parts are left out. Things have to be cut, it’s like adapting a book to a movie, majority of things that aren’t important to the main plot are going to get cut but the most important parts (like the person who wins the game) is kept in almost entirely.

Just because the re-run of the game is 3 hours long, doesn’t mean that people in the capital haven’t already seen his entire games. So re-editing it to make everything look accidental or to exclude that Haymitch was (in sotr) present for multiple deaths like Beetee’s son and Lou Lou’s, doesn’t make sense. They would have seen him running with Lou Lou’s body in the arena, and him trying to bat away the squirrels that swarmed Beetee’s son (I can’t remember how to spell his name and don’t feel like searching it), but the editing in the re-run throws it all out of order and he was now magically gone from all the deaths? The days are shown out of order which Haymitch comments on in sotr because it makes no sense, and it doesn’t make sense for a capital audience either because they would have just watched the games and been confused by why so much was changed.

There’s so much about sunrise on the reaping that just makes no narrative sense and it’s honestly hard to try and justify what Collins did in this book and try to tie it into the rest of the series because it doesn’t work. I don’t see a way that anyone in the capital would look at Haymitch after the forcefield kill and think ‘rascal’ but I can see them looking at him and calling him “arrogant”. The more I keep thinking about sotr the more my head hurts from trying to make sense of all the potholes, inconsistencies, and characterizations.

—as a last note, is Suzanne Collins really expecting me to believe that nobody in the capital that saw the tributes entrance with the chariots had a camera??? That the capital people are capable of not spreading gossip in five seconds flat about an accident happening? That they don’t have phones to instantly call people and tell them what they saw? There is no reality where Haymitch challenging Snow with a dead girls body would not be front line capital news. It doesn’t matter if the cameras stopped rolling or if people were drunk; they were still there, they still saw it, and I would be willing to put money on at least one person in a huge crowd of Capital people would have a camera to take pictures with.—

To summarize: I don’t think Haymitch was trying to rebel in CF, he certainly had a plan but I don’t think the plan was to show up the capital; it was definitely to survive and get back to his loved ones. Whatever the Capital citizens and District people thought of the move in the end wouldn’t matter because Snow was the one that gave the order to have his family killed, and instructed the game makers to never let it happen again.

[inthearbres]

yr fic idea

the basic idea: simon’s in a bar, wilhelm shows up, and they haven’t seen or spoken to each other in 10 years

this has been completely inspired by Halsey's "Lonely is the Muse"

“I spent years becoming cool And in one single second you can make a decade of my efforts disappear I'm just waiting at the bar and you rip open all my scars By saying something like, ‘Didn't know you were here’”

okay so now I understand when writers say they tried leaving an idea alone and it just takes over their mind because this began as a blip and now it’s closer to fully fleshed than I ever intended it to be BUT idk if I can commit to writing it so I’m sharing it

this might work better in an alt universe where wille and simon try long distance after their university studies separate them. it works until it doesn’t and simon breaks it off with wille after their freshman year. wille wouldn’t have otherwise despite both of them suffering from not only the distance, but erik’s accident, which happens during this time and affects wilhelm horribly (which inturn affects him and simon’s relationship).

they’re silent supporters of each other at first, only texting on birthdays and holidays. but throughout university and the years that follow, they’re perfect strangers again. their meeting at hillerska at 16 and subsequent three-year relationship is far in the past.

simon’s one of those music producers/writers where the general public are very much familiar with his name, work, and accolades, but not so much his face (which he prefers). he writes for artists, may dabble in background vocals and demos, and produces. all around, well-known and talented.

now wille, I’m not sure what he’s doing. maybe he’s also a writer, working in the publishing industry perhaps, a local paper or magazine? maybe he’s an author! ghost writer? the bottom line is that he listens to music. one of his favorite artists is having a launch party in his city, and he decides to go. their last album sits high in wilhelm’s list of greatest albums of all time (and especially one specific song on the album *simon has major writing credits on it but wilhelm doesn’t know this! yet*) simon has contributed greatly to this artist’s current project and is attending the launch party as well.

pause here because this is not where they meet! wilhelm isn’t able to get in bc of one reason or another or maybe he does get in but simon and wille keep missing each other. maybe they think they see the other but that’s obviously impossible (it’s been a decade!), so they continue on.

it’s not until simon decides to come down from the socialization high at a nearby bar that they do meet. wille hesitates, he’s stunned, happy, sad. he doesn’t speak, maybe he should leave? until simon sees him. wille watches in real time the shock, confusion, and recognition that happens on simon's face. he takes a breath and steps toward him, “I didn’t–” he clears his throat, shakes his head, “I didn’t know you’d be here.” he feels 16 again, introducing himself to the boy that would change his life, change him. instead of pure nervous bliss though, wilhelm is 29 and feels guilty, regretful, a bit angry? for how and why things ended between them. he can only assume simon feels similar.

simon’s entire world shifts, he’s caught off guard (which he hates), and, if he’s honest, he wasn’t expecting to see wille ever again. they’ve both moved throughout europe through the years (maybe they’re in the states now?), they don’t have friends in common anymore, and…simon has a partner (or does he?) does wille have one? if he ever did see wille again he thought his frustration and anger would be immediate, but right now he’s mostly shocked, sad, seeing how many years of wille’s life he truly missed (in his hair, his style, the rings on his fingers) and happy too bc now he has proof that wille survived the most difficult years of his life.

the blurred lines, rage, lust, love don't come until later, and I think this would be such a cool plot that plays with the whole 'there's a lot left unsaid and both characters try to toe the line but it eventually comes to a head and they have to be honest with themselves and each other' kind of thing. trying to muffle the anger and guilt by attempting to move on as their currents selves only works for so long, maybe one of them shakes their heads, huffs a breath, a bitter laugh, gestures between them "what are we doing here?"

[shentheauthor]

The Nightmare’s Curtain Call

So I have a LOT of thoughts on Grimm, Grimmchild, NKG, and the Nightmare Heart, and I’m about to dump ALL of them. Under the cut, bc it’s so long

First thing’s first, I must clarify: Grimm and the Nightmare HEART are NOT the same entity. I am distinguishing between the Heart and NKG, and I’ll get into it later, but for now, that is important information

Grimm’s deal

The first Grimm was ancient. He was around before the Dream and Nightmare realms split into two

When the schism happened, Grimm was very devoted to the Nightmare Heart’s purpose (more on this later)

So when the Heart was cast into its own, much smaller realm, who heeded its call for aid? That’s right: Grimm

The Heart cannot survive without a body to contain it. However, the body it’s meant for is gone. Grimm volunteered his own body to replace it

Containing the Heart is painful. Agonizingly so. To me, Grimm was once a moth. When he accepted the Heart into his chest, his original heart burned, and his entire body warped into a completely unique bug type

His voice was permanently altered, so even future Grimmchildren would have a hard time speaking without pain

He can no longer fly with his wings, using them as a cloak

As the time of the ritual approaches, the Heart begins to burn his body apart. Grimm is, after all, not a Higher Being. Containing one inevitably causes death and destruction (see: Hollow)

It doesn’t matter how you came to contain a Higher Being— your mortal body cannot sustain it

So a new Grimm must be found

The problem is, the Heart made a deal with Grimm with the last of its strength. It will never, ever recover its full power. So rather than burn itself out trying to find a new host, it’s easier to find a loophole

Each Grimmchild is created from the Heart’s flames, and it shares Grimm’s name and face. Technically speaking, Grimm is still the host. No unnecessary energy needs to be expended by the Heart.

There have been many generations of Grimm. The Radiance is old, calling the Void an “ancient enemy.” While it may not have necessarily been her as she is in game, she still has memories from the first Dream God’s lifetime. The Heart is the same.

Each Grimm receives the memories of the Heart and the previous Grimm, as each Grimm who dies is absorbed into the flames. However, every Grimm is slightly different from the last, based on who raised them. Needless to say, many a Grimm has not been happy with their arrangement, as their autonomy was taken away generations back

The Grimm we meet is somewhere along the lines of the 20th-25th Troupe Master

The Nightmare Heart

The Heart is interesting, because it’s not a Higher Being in the traditional sense. It is, quite literally, the still-beating heart of the original Dream God. It’s sentient, yes, but it doesn’t look or act like how you’d expect a god to

It’s pretty single-minded in following its purpose: cleanse the dream realm, recycle, burn

Basically it functions as both the heart and the liver. Dreams circulate through it, both good and bad, but the nightmares are the most important part. They keep the good/light dreams moving by providing a route for them to go through.

In its duties as the liver, it takes dreams that have “stagnated” or “corrupted,” processes them, and turns them into nightmares. It’s like a detoxification. If left to fester, well, you get things like the radiance that turn bitter and angry and cruel. Nightmares are necessary to help us process the fear that we feel!

The Heart cannot survive when cut off from its body. Conversely, the body cannot survive when cut off from the Heart. The Radiance and the Heart formed when the original Dream God’s body died, expelling both of them

They were meant to work together, still. But their ideas clashed, and neither really understood the consequences of separating. So their realms were cut apart, leaving both of their other halves to rot

Yes, the Heart is dying. It doesn’t matter if you stop the ritual or not. It will eventually perish. No amount of Grimms can heal it, because it will never be given enough time with any of them to truly start working again

The Heart and the Troupe are left to pick up the pieces of rotting kingdoms, because that’s all they have the power to do anymore. If they try to resume their original duties, the Heart won’t be able to keep up. It’s like when someone drinks heavily and doesn’t give the liver time to recover. The Heart is forced to regulate itself, even though it wants to regain its old power

The Radiance was dying long before the Pale King came around. That’s why she reacted the way she did. She didn’t want to die any faster

Nightmare King Grimm

Ok! So! The Heart and Grimm are not the same being, but what about NKG?

The answer is: it’s complicated

NKG is sort of a fusion between the two. He is birthed from the Heart, so you can think of him as like… a new being? Almost?

It’s Grimm and the Heart formed into one. In order to burn the father, he must fully embrace the flames and let them destroy his mortal shell

Afterwards, Grimm becomes part of the Heart. Another nightmare to be recycled.

NKG is stronger and faster than Grimm, but he will burn out and die more quickly too. Once Grimm dies, his flames and the Nightmare Heart transfer to the Grimmchild, killing NKG in the process

The next NKG will be the next Grimm, and so on and so forth

Ending the ritual

Ending the ritual is actually pretty dang bad!

The dreams and regrets of dying kingdoms NEED to be processed, or they will fester. Like the infection. Yes the Infection is a major result of the Heart not being there to detoxify the Radiance’s stagnant dreams that she’s forcing on everyone. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if the two had never separated

Now this is not to say that Brumm is bad. Quite the opposite actually. He is correct! The ritual is torture! It’s genuinely awful for every Grimm involved, especially because NONE of them except for the first consented!

The thing is, regardless of whether you stop the ritual or not, the Heart will die. It’ll just die faster if you stop it

Stopping the ritual is Very painful, and the Grimm will die anyway, leaving the Heart to drift until it can gather its strength enough to form another Grimmchild. Note: the previous Grimm’s memories will NOT be absorbed into the heart— so in a way, he’s free!

When you join the Troupe, you lose your name and memories, even your original body. This is by design. The Nightmare Heart recycles and destroys, it does not preserve. The flames cleanse your body, mind, and soul, leaving a blank slate.

Leaving the troupe, your body is returned, but your mind is not. Nymm has amnesia, but he clearly knows how to function as a normal bug. This is why I think that, upon leaving the troupe, all of your memories from your time with them is gone. Everything from before is gone. However, you will still remember bits and pieces— like how Nymm thinks the carefree melody charm is familiar, and it makes him think of something he forgot

When Nightmares Die

What happens when the Heart dies? I’m glad you asked

Put simply, everyone still in the Troupe will either be banished, or consumed by the flames. It depends on what they desire, and how the Heart feels when its demise comes

As for Grimm… the Heart will cannibalize him. No traces of him will be left. He was the original kindling, after all. A dying god will cling to any fuel it can get. Unfortunately, that fuel is Grimm. And sadly, it won’t do anything to help

After the Heart dies, the world will find equilibrium again… but it will be hard. After the Radiance dies, the Dream Realm is not gone! The same is true for the Heart.

It will change, for sure. It will be a lot harder to figure out. But it will still be there

Slowly, but surely, things will return to how they should be. Dreams and Nightmares will work in tandem again, their realms merging smoothly as they once were. Maybe someday, a new Dream God will be formed, to continue the cycle all over again. Maybe not. Who can say?

All that will be left of the Grimm Troupe is a few bugs without memories, and with a strange sense of nostalgia for something they never experienced

[scribz-ag24]

your grovyle and dusknoir pieces matter so much to me because you capture the very essence of how much the green gecko bastard and his 7.11ft tall ass ghost-guy-that-was-sent-to-kill-him-but-whoops-something-happened matter to each other and just how they change the other while still being all awkward at certain times because they are in a situation that involves feelings in which they are both not used to (grovyles emotional tendencies where he pushed down things and thoughts that would otherwise doom the mission he was on and dusknoir just being completely foreign to them because he strives from a world where kindness and love is seen as a vulnerability so he just strayed far from things that will inevitably stab him in the back) and how they try to navigate it while having to bear the annoyances of the other but still viewing them in high regard nonetheless. i dont go here too much but i figured i may as well say it because i think you're cool and because you draw those two annoying little studs so well. have a good day scribz

Waaaa thank you!! I appreciate you stop by here to be so lovely! This made my entire week 🥹🥹 I always love to see you when you tag, youre so thorough in everh post you reblog, it's a delight to see ^^

They are sooo important to each other, I don't think we appreciate enough how pivotal they are to each other's development, especially grovyle to dusknoir's. Still cant believe the ghost's parting word and thought was a a most thankful message to his old enemy, thanking him for giving his life meaning, for helping him not regret having truly *lived*, not just survived. I wish Dusknoir got some more dialogue after coming back to life, but those being his last words, in addition to him constantly referencing grovyle's speech, just goes to show how far he's internalized grovyle's words.

And the way Grovyle genuinely sees and reaches towards Dusknoir's inner goodness, *while* he's actively being betrayed, is beyond words. Grovyle loves his friends deeply and by this point he's clearly gone far enough to consider Dusknoir close to that status. Maybe Dusknoir protecting him from a blow hit too close to home and changed the dynamic in his eyes from "temporal ally" to just "ally". It can't be a coincidence that Grovyle opens up and explains his motives and ideas after Dusknoir takes the attack for him.

You just can't get one without the other in my mind, it's how they contrast and mirror each other, it's how the game switches the tables and flips their alignment so seamlessly. The thief-captor dynamic turning on its head once you see their true colors. How dusknoir appears more mature and put together thanks to his charm and social skills, only for him to end up learning and looking up to Grovyle, whose more developed life philosophy and selfless objective end up convincing Dusknoie to fight for something beyond himself.

Special Episode 5 is one of rhe best pmd chapters/story out there, and it's the most basic premise of Grovyle and Dusknoir working together. The writers developed them so well in conjuction that they can't be separated in my head.

But even then their contrasting personalities makes them so fun to put them into situations, despite the ares wjere they might overlap. they're both great but they belong together. And celebi just adds even more flavour to the mix by adding someone so radically different from them in her view and approach to things (seeing as shes one of the onlu characters explicitly in love, maybe even in priorities outside world-ending cataclysms xD). Future trio in post-canon is simply too rich, even the crumbs from PSMD links them together and that's enough for me.

(And also just in general the vibes are so good, we make fun of dusknoie for the "looking nervous having your back exposed to me" but grovyle's "you cling to me beyond expectation" and "i surrender, do with me as you will". BESIDES ALREADY THINKING ABOUR DUSKNOIR WAY MOEE THAN ANYONE ELSE.

he goes up to partner during the sunrise and goes "thinking about dusknoir?" whilw it turns out partner is thinking of how much they love the beach and their friend 😭😭 and then grovyle says in his letter "hey watch out for dusknoir bc he WILL BE BACK I KNOW HIM" and hero and partner jusr go "oh yeah that guy. remember that guy??" like THEY DONT REMEMBER WHO TRIED TO KILL THEM A DAY AGO?? 😭😭 why they dgaf lmao)

So yeah. I care about them a normal amount xD.

[vexedallay]

I have so many thoughts abt epsilon guys, so it's analysis post time-

Warning: long post below cut

So, they're not human, right? Their body is that of a robot, so presumably their mind is some sort of computer or AI (and here I mean an actual goddamn artificial intelligence, not a "generative ai" or some bs). So their entire fucking mind is made of code, and things like "variability" doesn't really exist. In order for someone like epsilon to function, they need to break down the complexity of human nature into sets of rules that govern how social interaction, society, and the world in general works. They can then follow these rules and be fine. (This is how my brain works, btw. Computers make more sense than people to me) Epsilon can understand that their rules might not be complete, and is flexible enough to add more when encountering new scenarios, but they do expect their rules to be accurate. They are very much a person of logic rather than emotion. As they have mostly only interacted with other robots and artificial beings, who function in much the same way, this works for them. However, when interacting with actual people, this doesn't work as well. People are notably often governed by emotion, not logic, and are incredibly prone to spontaneity. As such, Epsilon really has no idea how to interact with them sometimes, especially with little kids.

Epsilon also refers to living people as "organics" and robotic things as "artificials" because that is how they separate those two groups mentally. There's too many types of people, too many types of robots, so Epsilon refers to the makeup of their bodies instead. This isn't necessarily an insult, it simply is. But it is a fun detail about Epsilon habits.

Also since epsilon is a robot, they can do things like be rebuilt. This is a massive thing in the actual portal storyline - being able to rebuild these robots over and over again to continue testing. Even if Epsilon wasn't programmed initially to feel pain, they are a learning system (that's what makes them so good) so there isn't a reason they couldn't have *learned* to feel pain, or at least some facsimile of it. Additionally, them watching their body get destroyed and rebuilt it bound to be traumatizing anyways, which means I just gave this robot ptsd. Oops.

Anyhow, how does epsilon actually *survive* being destroyed, much less *watch*. First off, Epsilon only exists in their memory files. They can be *completely* disconnected from their body, lose access to *all* of their sensory systems, yet still be *alive*. (This is also bound to be incredibly traumatizing since they are basically completely at the mercy of whoever happens to find them, completely unable to defend themself.) And, if they needed to watch, glados is there and watching anyways. Since epsilon only exists in their memory files, they could be hooked up to other sensory systems, through network connections and whatnot. I'd imagine glados does this on purpose as a sort of threat to epsilon.

I do want to mention glados at least briefly. She definitely had some level of control over at least Epsilons body and sensory systems, which in general is rough (complete understatement). She also put Epsilon through all of these tests, making Epsilon a lab rat. Which means Epsilon likely has the *mentality* of a lab rat. So high levels of obedience, no real purpose to life (currently they want to find rho-13, but once they find him they won't have a purpose at all), etc. Which is just fun to play with.

Also, I like to think Epsilon uses they/them pronouns because they never got a gender module installed, and learned that they/them was the default. So they're a they/them guy with no actual preference.

Fibally, Epsilon definitely thinks of themself as EP-511ON56. They're a robot, and that is their serial number. The same way they think of RHO-13 as his serial number rather than a proper name. The reason they *use* this nickname is because organics don't like listing serial numbers constantly, so Epsilon.

Anyhow, long af ramble about epsilons character? Complete.

[astarionfixation]

Chapter 7: *I have all the time in the world, darling*

Part of "Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!" A multi chapter adventure in Astarion’s mind

Rating: Mature for mentions of sex and blood

CW mentions of panic attacks, disassociation

Word count count: 2.6k

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/139073218

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

** Thoughts "" Dialogue - - Remarks ++ Quotes / Memories

*How can she just be asleep??? I’m starting to see her point about immortality seeing the amount of time humans have to waste this way…*

Astarion’s body is holding hers from behind, her legs slightly separated from each other so his own leg found a way to sneak between them. Unfortunately in a much more innocent way than the simple thought sounds in his head.

They have fallen in this habit for weeks now, and there’s really no complaining from his side. It still feels like a silly rule though. But she said it 

+We can’t kiss+

And as she set the rule, he wouldn’t have her repeat herself. Especially since, by simply upholding her request, he has had a chance to partake in her lavish blood every time he has so wished.

*as if what we are up to is not… more intimate anyway…*

He holds her body tighter to his at that, her slow, deep breaths confirm he’s not going to disturb her slumber anyway and so he’s allowed, he can relish in her presence, her warmth, the blissful feeling of his stomach, his nostrils, his entire being filled with her life essence coursing through both her veins and his.

It took a few days at first to understand how to find a balance between his hunger and her health. Truth is he could drink from her forever and still marvel at the uniquely intoxicating flavour her humours concocted just to make him completely besotted by her. And he would have conceded to his addiction to her when it came to blood, though since their unlikely partnership came to be, she had also been incredibly patient and kind to him and that's also hard to even consider ever relenting on that assurance. Bar the first night -and they never spoke of it again- she never showed anything resembling jealousy or anger, despite the times he let her wake up alone, while too many voices, too many images of his past keep coming back to taunt and mock him, if not attack and dismember at times, and it’s always hard to come back unscathed from that, he certainly cannot have her around during those times that he barely remembers himself. How could he risk being around her, breakable as she is?

*Mortality definitely does not become her, but until I can do something about it…*

It was the first part of their silent agreement that was spoken, just the day after the revelation of his vampiric condition. It was too important to leave it hanging in the air like teasing promises of multiple fluids exchanges.

+Help me find a way to destroy Cazador and I swear, I will turn you and free you the second I become a Vampire Lord+

As if their quest for simple survival wasn't enough. And after centuries of subjugation no, mere survival was no longer an acceptable option. She didn't have those centuries ahead anyway, and why deprive himself of such delicate presence, and delectable flavour, if while destroying his abuser he could also find a way to give her the immortality she so steadfastly desired? 

There's something surfacing, just an itch at the back of his mind that reminds him it could be just a half truth. He’d have no reason to let her go and he would be an entirely different master anyway! He could keep her close, keep her safe, keep her his and she would have eternity to learn and experience every single little thing she so desires. 

*With me. As Mine*

He buries his nose further in her locks, pressing against the nape of her neck to have another reminder of how intoxicating her scent truly is. Despite the time and chances he’s been given to fall within the habit of having her in his arms, it never for one moment feels like something part of the background. It brings colour and desire to his every waking moment and might have actually made him skim of his own trances to avoid missing… her.

There hasn’t been a night they spent apart, ever since the first time she let him feed on her.

He would say that nothing happens due to the clothed, innocent nature of their shared time together, though the closeness hardly can be defined as such.

*Well it is innocent. Always… Mostly… where it matters…*

which is anywhere outside of his own mind.

He blamed the blood at the beginning of this peculiar understanding. Her blood coursing through his own veins, driving him insane with the need to hold her, have her and possess her in every which way his mind could picture, fangs buried in the skin of her breast just as his cock could finally be completely enveloped in her silky, wet warmth, because of course! of course it would be just because the blood, her blood within his own body, just wanted to go back inside of her…

*and so do I…*

He could have brought up the question as to why? Why deny herself? There was no pretence to keep up anymore…

Miraculously, the revelation he stupidly gave away in a flash of anger about the access he had of her precious little book, never came up again. She knew, of course she knew, but she never asked, and he had no inkling of breaking the perfect balance they had built for themselves. Yet he could still evoke the words she had for him in that little book, and now more and more he hears them in the voice he now knows she would use, the precise tone and pitch with which her desire for him would caress his ears and ego as she finally concedes

+The desire for recognition leaves me restless and as soon as my mind cannot occupy itself enough it’s like I’m hitting my head over and over onto Astarion, onto the naive need to believe he could see me+

*How much more can I show her she's all I see now, all I think about!?!*

The song her blood sang for him was the perfect justification to his need for her during the first few days, but all it took to crack that utilitarian excuse was seeing how her health was beginning to be affected by the blood loss due to his daily feeding off of her. 

He became aware of her pallor, the shorter distance she could walk before being exhausted and attracting the attention of their companions concerned for her health. And yes, his own too. Because he couldn’t think of anything happening to her and losing the one access to the pure, simple, unadulterated bliss that feeding from her gave him… but also because of that kindness, never once turning or shouting at him, despite the varied and valid reasons his behaviour gave her. Because survival never required him to think of anyone but himself before

*and learning takes time…*

Even after he realised he couldn’t possibly drink from her nightly, he found himself missing her presence, yet he had no other excuse reason to seek her. 

Thankfully the first night he didn’t go to her room, she came to his. Or attempted to, several times as he heard her unsteady little feet from the moment her door opened, going back and forth between her own bedroom and stopping in front of his. When he finally opened the door to find her out there, dark eyes widened like a child caught in the act of stealing candy, she just bashfully asked

+Can I sleep with you, please?+

And he had to tease her, of course he had to! what?! with that nonsense ‘no kissing’ rule upheld, but such implication left hanging in the air?

+Well darling, I see despite your silly rule you just want to skip to the main course then+

Thinking back he's still not sure her reply was naive or defiant

+Isn’t that technically what I am to you?+

He was so dazed by her reply she had to specify +food?+ before hesitantly confessing +I don’t want to sleep alone+

He would have lied if he had tried to deny how pleasant it had been to just lay with her, despite the urges that at times made him leave her in the middle of the night. She never once lamented it to him, always greeting him with a smile the next time she saw him, dissolving his fear and shame as if there never had been reason for them to be there at all.

So their silent agreement now also included spending every night together. Mostly innocently. Ostensibly touching her for feeding purposes only, though he never felt the need to explain how his fingers, his nails, his lips and teeth didn’t have to mandatorily trace on her skin until he’d found the right spot where her pulse came through the most. 

Each and Every night.

And judging from the sinful sounds that always escaped her lips during this preprandial dance of theirs, she wasn’t in any rush for him to just bite her either. 

*Her ‘no kissing’ rule makes absolutely no sense!*

and at times like this the thought almost irritated him again, so that his nose now buried in her hair has to move slightly, side to side, to find her mulled wine and flowers aroma to soothe himself, to remind himself how much she’s already given him, and even to vaguely confess to a part of his mind who enjoys this never ending teasing, that he could also play a part at times, when his hands could just disappear under the hem of her shirt to trace gently the skin of her stomach. 

Or all the times at camp when she was sitting beside him, reading or studying plants, and he could start tracing lazy circles on her skin, beginning from her ankle when he was just laying opposite to her. One afternoon she didn't react well until his eager fingers had reached way past her knee to the soft skin of her inner thigh and for a second he had sincerely considered the option to just throw her skirts up and see if the rule applied to every pair of her lips…

*You little minx… do you really have no idea what you do to me, night over night?*

The familiar tug at the corner of his lips should make him mad, because how can she have so much power over him even when this fast asleep? His body adjusts slightly against hers and her warmth engulfs him, though her blood always makes him warmer and having fed on her just before she fell asleep means he can comfortably pull her to his body, and his own self consciousness about his temperature does not have as easy a hold as usual.

In fairness it’s not like this is completely innocent either. Everyone knows by now that there never need to be two rooms anymore when they stop by an inn, No need for two separate tents after the night they all found out about him and almost wanted to stake him on the spot.

*What was I supposed to do? Not tear the jugular of the goblin that was almost close enough to hurt her?!?*

The thought alone makes him press the hand on the naked skin of her stomach so he can pull her even closer to himself. She took his side, stood up shielding him from the others with her own body in between.

+Astarion is under my protection!+

*And you under mine, sweet thing*

She even threatened offered to leave the merry fellowship and find a solution to their parasitic problem with only the two of them. She since claimed it was safer to share quarters and that became an incredibly welcome convenience to latch upon.

*The Vampire and his Human Bloodbag, how sweet*

After that it admittedly became easier to just tone down the performance, the altisonant act, at least when they were just alone with each other. She always has subtle ways to let him attune to her inexplicable calmness, even holding her sleeping form brings him some sort of peace, especially when her mind could be anywhere but he gets to be the one holding her body to this realm. He still hardly admits it to himself but even with access to her blood and safety with her own declared protection he still needs more from her. He needs to hear her finally confess the way her body burns for him, he already knows for she scorches his lips every time they indulge in her skin before his fangs can break it. The way he feels her hips thrusting involuntarily against his own even through layers of cursed clothing to keep them apart when she let him rest, accommodating his body between her legs. The way her fingers thread through his own white curls and he can feel the instant she stops herself from pulling him down to her. The way he can sense the tangy sweetness of pomegranate and dreams of all the ways he could taste her. Finally, completely.

The taste of her lips is where his imagination always ends. Of all the enticing, erotic visions she is the fulcrum in his mind, that silly little rule is truly what doesn't allow his mind to go to something as comparatively innocent, as a kiss.

The hand resting on the skin of her stomach senses a slight stirring in her body and his mind is quickly dragged back to this moment, as he holds her in their bed, still with hours to go before another day will claim some of her attention and time away from this… attempt at something akin to companionship they have accidentally built?

Together.

She pushes back into him as she rolls onto her back and he smoothly untangles himself to allow her space. In pulling his hand away he accidentally lifts up her shirt part way and exposes her soft delectable stomach. The moonlight shines through the window and dances off her supple curves as though it's shining just for her. Just for him. He's transfixed by the gentle rise and fall of her navel, feeling a pang of envy for the air that gets to fill her inside instead of him and before he's even noticed his mouth is millimetres away from her scalding skin, the tip of his nose brushing against her delicate silky down that traps her scent even more intensely and he can take her all in. His lips almost shiver with anticipation as they part for her and, one by one, plants imperceptible gentle pecks across her canvas, working his way up towards that most delicious place he fed from that first night, stopping right at that sensitive spot where her bosom meets her rib cage, his prize denied to him by that infernal fabric. 

“mm… Astarion”

When the muffled word barely escapes her lips between sleeps, he knows all he needs to know. Of all the things and reasons he might not understand, in the end, when all the barriers she put up are finally down, in her dreams, his name is the only one she ever calls upon. She wants him as much as he needs her. And if setting the pace is what she wanted, he will let her for as long as she desires. It's not as if the path is anything less than absolutely blissful anyway..

*And I have all the time in the world, darling*