#..but it also feels like it should be and its absence becomes more noticeable the longer it isn't mentioned

[ninja-guy-yo]

There's no way they won't ever acknowledge that Lloyd is part-dragon while having him gain the power of and communicate with God Dragons and train under talking ones, in the show titled after and primarily based around dragons, right

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: only one more day remains in the week before your mom returns home. your feelings for joel have deepened, and he's aware of it; it's evident to him. he's tempted to maintain his distance, yet he can't deny that you've become the most captivating presence in his life.

warnings: MINORS DNI. DUB-CON. NON-CON. big age gap [18/52], pussy inspection, fingering, forced squirting, pussy pronouns, joel "just the tip" miller turns into joel "i'll make it fit" miller, TW: light vaginal bleeding, belly bulging, reader is considered petite in height and body type, two (2) pussy spanks, missionaryyyy, choking, finger sucking, dacryphilia, joel is a dirty nasty old man okay, he's a meanie, phone sex (again, joel is REALLY fucking nasty), dirty nicknames (daddy's whore, daddy's bitch), this is all in joel's pov

wc: 7.6k

notes: this series literally would have been HALTED for a while if it weren't for @taeslarityy helping me with brainstorming and constructing how i should continue this chapter. cause pookies, i was stumped. i had no motivation for this series--until yasi and her lovely fucking brain gave me a kick in the ass and got me back up again 🥹🛐 also, i'm genuinely so disappointed in this chapter. it's been such a long wait and halfway through writing, i've deleted it so many times. and even now, i'm so unhappy with the outcome cause i feel like i just rushed through it and forced myself to finish it :(( but hey, one more chapter left. 🩷

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As Joel wakes up in the morning, he senses immediately that something is amiss. He sits up with a hoarse grunt, feeling his lower back muscles pinch and pull. Rubbing his eyes to clear the blurriness, he notices an absence of warmth. The night before, he recalls carrying you to the bedroom, the very one he has shared with your mom for years. He remembers laying down, letting your trembling body curl into his, and gently hushing you to sleep. Now, he's greeted by the cold, empty space in the bed where you slept, mocking him with its emptiness.

In an instant, a surge of panic and fury overwhelmed him, fueled by the thought that you had left without telling him again. The doors unlocked, his car taken, driven wherever your little heart desires. The house's silence confirmed his suspicions of your departure. However, as he swung his legs off the bed, he halted, spotting the small figure curled up on the floor, mere feet from where he lay.

Joel's breath catches in his throat as he approaches, seeing your small form turned away from him. The gentle rise and fall of your shoulders assure him you're still breathing, alleviating his fear that something terrible had occurred. Yet, he can't help but wonder what prompted you to shift away from him to the ground while he was asleep. Were you scared of him? Did you witness or overhear the incident with your friend? Joel kneels down and places a tender hand on your shoulder.

"Baby?" he whispers, careful not to startle you. "Come on, honey, time to wake up." He gives your shoulder a firmer shake, chuckling softly as you respond with a sleepy murmur.

As you begin to wake up, the only sensations are the ache in your neck from the awkward position and an intense coldness. You chose to leave Joel's warmth after coming to the realization that you didn't deserve the comfort and coziness of sharing a bed with him. Joel had taught you not comfort and warmth, but pleasure and pain. You didn't want to start the day being a bad girl for him.

"The hell you doin' on the floor, baby?" Joel couldn't help but laugh when you spring up, nearly cracking your head against his chin. "Hey, hey, easy." The sternness in his voice had you calming down.

A moment of silence enveloped you, allowing full consciousness to take hold. With a soft whimper, you nestled closer to Joel, your nose comfortably tucking in just beneath his jawline, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse against your skin. He pulls you onto his lap and leans back against the bed, comfortably stretching out his legs to hold you closer to his chest.

"You want to tell me why you were on the floor?" he asks quietly, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as you squirm in his hold, desperate to feel some of his warmth.

Joel feels you shrug under his hands. "I dunno," you say so softly that he has to strain his good ear to hear you properly. "I didn't want you to wake up and see me next to you. And... I didn't want to be a bad girl by staying in your bed. I-I think on the floor is better for me."

Joel is caught off guard by the response; it's not what he anticipated. He thought you would be fearful of him and would seek to keep a distance, yet remain within reach. As you look up at him, a slight widening of his eyes occurs, your lashes fluttering and the innocent smile on your lips hinting that if heart-shaped pupils were real, they'd appear in your eyes every time you looked at Joel. He doubts how much longer he can ignore this feeling before it inevitably consumes him. It's gnawing at his insides, twisting and pulling with force. It's a familiar sinking sensation, one he's experienced too often. But now, as you gaze at him with a doe-eyed look on your innocent face, Joel realizes he's in too deep. He's got you hooked, which was his intention, but now you're too hooked. He's searching for an escape. He needs a way out. The voice in his head is screaming, growing louder, louder, LOUDER.

Get out, Joel. Get out. Get the fuck out. Run. Don't get too close. Don't let her fall too deep. Run. Run. Run. Make it hurt. Ruin in. Ruin her. Make her hurt. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out.

"Daddy?"

The sound of a soft voice causes his eyes to fly open, not recalling the moment they had closed. The voice fades away, leaving silence behind. He senses your presence; your skin, your weight, your gentle breath against his neck. You are all he perceives. Yet, this incites anger within him. The sensation is overpowering, his skin grows warm as the walls seem to draw nearer. Joel's breath quickens. Disregarding the concern on your face, he chooses to shut his eyes once more, withdrawing his hands from you to form tight fists.

"Daddy?"

Once more, it's your voice, yet softer and fainter. Joel's jaw tightens, and he grinds his teeth while your voice sears through his ear canal, coiling throughout his brain and delving deeper into the membrane. He tries to steady his breathing, but flashes of your body, bruised and battered, eyes fearful with tears, pussy leaking all over his cock show up behind his closed eyes like a slideshow, and it's as though he was suddenly injected with a drug directly into his veins. His breath steadies and his hands relax. Joel's eyes open to a half-lidded gaze, emotionless as he stares back. He understands the necessary actions; it's for the best. He won't let himself become entangled in any feelings you may harbor towards him.

That's not who he is, nor who he will ever become.

It has been exactly sixteen hours, thirty-two minutes, and forty-eight seconds since the last time Joel has kissed your lips. His body is aching to feel their plush softness and subtle sweetness. To feel them wrapped around his thick cock, tightening all around and swallowing down his cum. To feel them pressed into his neck as you struggle to keep in your little whimpers of sinned pleasure as you fall apart on his fingers. Joel can feel the monster within him, howling and screeching to be released.

He can't.

He won't.

Joel confronts the intricate desires he diligently avoided. Their abrupt emergence, without a moment for him to brace himself, leaves him feeling disarrayed and distant from the man he strived to become. The facade he maintained for years has dissipated. Gone is Joel Miller; the husband, stepfather, boss, and big brother. Now, there was Joel Miller; pervert, predator, stepfather that creeps on his wife's daughter, violator. All the things he has desperately tried to hide away, he now became.

The haunting is relentless, day after day. Living in the same house as the person who evokes such darkness is excruciating. He feels akin to a caged animal, circling endlessly, biding time for an opening to pounce on any unsuspecting individual. Joel is convinced that the only escape from this torment is to confront it head-on. He knows. He also knows it's sick and disgusting, but it excites him unlike anything else. He enables it.

Joel watches from afar, conscious of the negative impact his behavior has had on you today. He notices your fidgeting and the way you quiet down when his glare falls upon you. Your averted gaze and pouted lips communicate all he needs to understand. This experience is as torturous for you as it is for him. Nonetheless, the voice persists, refusing to be silenced. This withdrawal seems to only fuel its anger, making it more aggressive and deafening. It's pushing Joel to the brink of madness.

You had to have known what you're doing to him. Joel firmly believes that you're being a fucking tease on purpose, wearing your soft sleep shorts and paper-thin camisole tank top. When you bend down, Joel could see how your shorts tighten around the shape of your ass and pussy lips, giving him a tasteful view of camel toe, and if he looks any closer, he could possibly see a wet spot on the fabric. He knows what you're doing, whether you know it yourself or not. It's like your body calls out to him, begging to be defiled, begging to be touched by his perverted hands. Whether you know it or not, you need him as much as he needs you.

The house is enveloped in silence. Joel has not uttered a single word for several hours. The quiet has persisted from morning until late afternoon. Nursing a beer, he attempts to divert his mind and avoid being overwhelmed by thoughts of you, his stepdaughter. The task was proven to be the most difficult he's ever had to endure considering the fact that you took a seat beside Joel on the couch and now, you won't stop fucking moving.

It would be a minute of stillness. Then, you would huff and shuffle in your seat, bare thighs brushing against Joel's jean-clad thigh. It was clockwork. Every time he tilted his head back to take a gulp of his beer, your movements jostled his side. With each sip, he grunted and nudged you roughly with his elbow, trying to push you away, yet you edged closer after each shove.

"Enough," Joel grunts for the umpteenth time, opting to use his hand this time to shove you away, albeit harder than the rest. "Sit your ass over there and give me some fuckin' space."

He notices your trembling lips and the tears brimming in your eyes. With a deep sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. All he desired was to savor a beer in the afternoon without your tears for every mistake he made, yet he realizes it was a situation he brought upon himself. Evidently, he has managed to reduce you to a state of dependency. Now, it was time to break you down even further until you can no longer cry, only accept your fate.

"Alright," he sighs once more, taking a sip of his beer before turning to you. "What's goin' on? Hm? Why is so goddamn important that you have to be glued at side?" Joel didn't intend to come off as harsh, but his nerves were ablaze, everything was humming, his clothes felt constricting, and the thought of your mother lingered in his mind, an unsettling presence.

He notices you curled up, knees drawn to your chest and arms encircling them. Resting your chin on your knees, you cast him a nervous glance. Joel lifts his eyebrows and gestures with his hand, urging you to speak. He understands that your attachment to him isn't your doing; it's precisely what he desired. Yet, he can't deny the thrill he gets from your reliance on him. Knowing that he's the one you yearn for fills him with a smug satisfaction, inflating his ego immensely.

A young, pretty little thing like yourself eager to please a dirty old man like him.

Clearing your throat in the softest way possible, you tell him, "I've been getting that feeling again... down there. And it won't go away no matter how many times I try to think about something else. I need your help to make it go away, Daddy. Please, help me." The last sentence comes out as a whisper, almost like a secret you're trying to keep for yourself, but Joel heard every word.

Looking at you right now, his sleezy eyes swallow every inch. His fingers twitch on his lap as his hand tightens around the neck of the beer bottle. There's a warmth stirring in his gut. His jaw tensed and clenches as he tries to fight off the sexually violent images of you in his mind.

With the way you're staring at him, Joel knows what has to be done.

That's where he has you now, laid out on his and your mom's shared bed, bare naked and trembling, silky thighs spread wide open with your hands under the crook of your knees to keep them that way. Joel is kneeling between them, clad in only his jeans, his shirt long gone. He's staring down at you like a feral wolf waiting for the perfect moment to attack the pathetic bunny cowering in a tree stump. His mouth waters as he thinks about sinking his teeth into your flesh and drinking your sweet blood. His hands tremble as they start to stroke along your inner thigh, savoring the way you tremble under his fingertips.

"She's just drooling for me, ain't she?" Though the question was rhetorical, you still nod. Joel grins and lets out a deep chuckle before biting down on his bottom lip as his thumbs get closer to your sweet pussy.

He knows he's teasing at this point. The little flutters your pussy gives him tells him all that he needs to know. He only wonders how far he'd have to go for you to finally crack and lose composure. A pearly drop of slick slowly pools out of your hole and slides down to your other tight-ringed hole. Joel catches it with his thumb and gently swipes it up to your clit before pulling his thumb away, a string of arousal connecting from the fingertip to your clit. He sees you glancing down at it as he shows it off to you with a sadistic grin on his face.

"You see that?" he whispers, his plush lips parting as he continues swiping through your slick, subtle wet noises colliding with the sounds of your heavy breathing. "So messy down here, honey girl."

Joel's dick thickens underneath the two layers he wears on his bottom half. The throbbing is constant, his heavy balls pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He's surprised the button of his jeans hasn't popped open. With one hand, he unbuttons and slides down the zipper agonizingly slow. Your eyes are on his hands the entire time. Joel lets out a quiet laugh when his hardness forces the zipper to slide down the rest of the way on its own.

With his cock comfortably breathing, both hands are now back on your inner thighs, thumbs still close to the lips of your pussy. With gentle movements, he uses his thumbs to spread apart your lips to get a better look of your sopping hole. Pearly strings connecting from one lip to the other, your pretty labia spreading open like a blooming flower, your swollen clit throbbing for attention. Joel is in awe and falls into a hypnotized state the more he stares at your fully exposed pussy. His fingers are curious as they stroke along your lips, further dampening the light dusting of hair that keeps your mound warm and protected.

Joel eagerly listens to every little noise you make. His movements are torturous, and he knows he's being mean by not giving you what you asked for. The little trembles of your thighs and your weak moans when his fingers purposely avoid your aching clit. His lips part and he can feel drool at the corners. Licking it away, Joel continues to trace your pussy lips with his thumbs, further observing the clenching and unclenching of your non-stop dripping hole.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath, fingers catching the slick repeatedly to avoid it wasting onto the bedsheets. In a louder voice, he says in a smug tone, "She jus' won't stop leakin' everywhere."

Joel's mind is reeling the more he inspects your dripping pussy. He can practically taste you on his tongue. A husky, low growl escapes from his chest before he could stop it. He can hear that voice again, feel those claws sinking into his shoulders from behind. The rattling of the cage gets louder and more violent. Joel's eyes shut as fast as his hands left your body as he tries to shut out that dark voice coaxing him to do more damage. He lets out another low growl and shakes his head to himself.

"Daddy?" he hears your sweet whimper fill his ears. "Make it go away."

Joel wants to make it go away. He wants to make everything go away. He needs to or else this feeling won't stop. It'll only get stronger and stronger the more time passes. He knows what has to be done. Then, silence. He opens his eyes, his breathing heavy and labored. The two of you make eye contact, and Joel feels like his heart is about to burst through his chest from how hard and fast it's beating.

Without another word, his middle finger slowly sinks inside your pussy, your tightness sucking him deeper. There's a steady trembling in your thighs as you fight to shut them. Joel's thumb strokes your swollen clit in firm, tight circles. He crooks his finger and lays his free hand across your mound and applies pressure, pinning you between his palm and the mattress.

"What..."

He knows what you're about to ask, but he doesn't let the question slip from your lips before he's fucking his middle finger in and out of your pussy while simultaneously curling his finger against your spongy pleasure spot, all the while pressing down above your mound and rubbing your clit. The wet sloshing of your wetness being spread all around his finger, palm, and your thighs is an embarrassing noise that has you covering your face. For some reason, that pisses Joel off.

"Look at me!" He practically yells and yanks his finger out of your pussy to land a hearty smack directly over your clit. The loud smack has you yelping and squeezing your thighs together as you yanked your hands away from your face to look at Joel with a pained expression.

He shoves your thighs open with brutal force and shoves his middle and ring fingers inside your pussy this time, the tightness increasing from the sudden intrusion. You let out a louder yelp and reach down to grab his arm with both hands, but Joel slaps them away like he would an annoying mosquito. He moves his hand with vigor, fucking his fingers up against that one spot that makes you leak and shake. There's an abundance of wetness that splatters all over your inner thighs and on Joel's palm. His tongue tingles to clean up your sticky mess.

"Goddamn, you're so fuckin' wet, babydoll," he groans filthily, forcing himself to look between your legs. His calloused fingers are shoved so deep inside your pussy, the same ones that have been inside your mother numerous times. Joel is a disgusting man for the satisfaction he feels, knowing that these are the same fingers that have made your mom cum. And now, he's going to make you, his stepdaughter, cum on them in the same way.

Joel presses down onto your pelvis as he keeps the heel of his palm against your clit to apply delicious pressure. He moves his hand up and down rather than forward and back. He can feel his fingers stabbing at the ribbed spongy spot repeatedly, the wet sloshing growing louder the faster he does it. Your moans are garbled and stuttering from his unrelenting pace.

"That's it, babydoll," he grunts quietly, biting down on his bottom lips as he fights to slide in a third finger. If he's going to open up that pussy any further, it's going to be around his cock.

"Stop, stop, stop," you squealed and kicked your legs, trying desperately to pull your body away from his fingers. "I have to pee!"

Joel goes harder and faster, his palm practically slapping against your clit in time with his fingers. The final moan you let out was demonic, of some sort. It didn't sound like it was coming out of a teenage girl, but more from a deranged older woman. Then, a stream of wetness splashes out and splatters all across Joel's forearm and onto the bed sheets. It was fucking never-ending. Your pussy keeps sucking in his fingers, fluttering all around his knuckles. He pulls his fingers out and lands another smack onto your pussy, paying extra attention to your needy clit.

He knows what he has to do. He knows what has to be done.

He rests heavily on top of your body, one forearm planted on the bed beside your head as the other moves between your bodies to lower his jeans and his boxers, not quite shaking them completely off. You're still trying to catch your breath, not exactly understanding what it was that just happened, what it was that you just felt, and why it felt so good. Joel can see it in your eyes, the unspoken questions on the tip of your tongue. He hushes you softly, his lips just a hair away from yours.

"Daddy's goin' to do the tip again, okay? Just the tip, babydoll, I promise," his voice is quiet and soft, his breath tickling your lips like a kiss from the wind.

He doesn't care enough to hear your response or to see if you want to do this or not, but he's already pressing his tip against your sticky hole and pushing inside. Joel's hoarse grunt was muffled as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his big, heavy body sagging further onto yours. His hips slowly move forward and forward and back, fucking his mushroomed tip in and out of your eager hole.

"Oh, my God," your sweet little whimpers whispered in his ear as Joel's hips continued their steady pace. "Too...much." Your voice is clouded with a tinge of pain as he fucks an inch deeper, and then two inches deeper. "Daddy... Daddy, s-slow down!"

Joel's mental state is clouded with depraved lust, pleasure, and ecstasy. His cock sinks deeper. His vision is cloudy, and your voice sounds far away as your pussy sucks him in. He finds himself shutting you up by slapping a big hand over your mouth and pressing some of his weight down onto it. Joel's head lifts up, and he's inches from your face. Your eyes are wide and filled with tears, one hand grabbing onto his shoulder as the other desperately grabs onto his forearm.

"You can take some more," he breathes heavily, his beer-laced breath causing your eyes to flutter shut as you fight to pull away from his face, but Joel clamps his hand down tighter against your mouth, pinning your head down onto his pillow and constricting your movements.

The figurative crate in the recesses of his mind is rattling violently, the voice inside escalating, almost yelling for Joel to let go and inflict pain. This is the necessary action. It's a now or never situation. His skin turns scorching, almost too hot to touch. Every sense is inundated by your presence. Time has run out. The voice is reverberating in Joel's mind, fully taking control.

The chains are gone. The beast has awoken. He is free.

A small scream against Joel's palm has him breaking free from the darkness that has taken over. He's sure he looks feral right now. The widening of your eyes showcases terror. Joel glances down and notices that his cock is now halfway inside your pussy. He doesn't remember sliding his hips deeper into yours. He feels how tight you've gotten, your pussy almost begging for him to not go any further.

"Look at that," he mumbles to himself, pulling his cock two inches out and seeing the tiniest smear of blood around the thick base. "Seems like this little pussy can't all of me, huh?" Joel leans back down, laughing right in your face as he pushes his cock back inside. You're kicking at the back of his thighs with the heels of your feet now, trying to shake your head at him, but he tightens his hand once again. "Don't worry, honey girl," he grunts breathlessly. "Daddy will make it fit."

And with that, Joel reels his hips back and slams the last few inches into your pussy, hearing with glee as your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes cross and roll into the back of your head. The rhythmic push and pull of your cunt tightening around his cock had his heavy balls throbbing as heat builds stronger in the pit of his stomach.

Joel groans huskily, lowering his heavy body onto your own and slowly moving his hips forward and back, pulling out shallowly and pressing in deep. He makes sure you feel every single inch.

"Feel how deep I am in your tummy, babydoll?" he breathes heavily, his tongue thick in his mouth as his throat suddenly feels dry. Joel can feel his senses slipping as he loses control. He's been waiting for this day for months, and now that he finally has it, he doesn't want to let it go. This whole power dynamic went straight to his head, further inflating his already massive ego. Feeling your virgin cunt being deflowered around his cock was unlike anything he's ever felt.

Your eyes are blurry with thick tears that roll down your cheeks and slide along Joel's fingers. He pulls out again, slowly pushes back in, and repeats the process until the light smearing of blood disappears. He gruffly hushes you and pulls his hand away to shove two thick fingers into your mouth.

"Attagirl," he mumbles to himself as he obscenely pushes down on your tongue to widen your mouth. "Show me what that tongue can do." He slides his fingers forward and back along the pink muscle, mimicking the motions of his hips. He goes as far as to shove his fingers towards your uvula to make you gag. Drool slides down the corners of your lips as strings of spit crudely connect from your tongue to Joel's fingers.

He grins wolfishly. Oh, this is going to be fun. To have you under his body, cunt squeezing and choking his cock, knowing that you will forever live with the moment of your disgusting stepdad taking your virginity. Joel doesn't give a flying fuck on how this is going to affect any future relationships you might have with another man. Right here, right now, you belong to Joel. You know it, he knows it. Within the walls of the bedroom he shares with your mom, you belong to him whether you liked it or not. He's going to take, take, take, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Joel lifts the bottom of his shirt to watch the hypnotizing sight of your swollen pussy repeatedly sucking him in. Virgin blood was now replaced with that sticky slick he grew to love over the last few days. The sopping wet sounds of his hips smacking into yours, your stickiness covering his thick, dark pubic hair and happy trail. Joel looks up to watch your face as he starts to really fuck you. With one hand still trapped between your lips, he uses those fingers to hook behind your bottom teeth and force your head down as his other hand cups the back of your head to grab your hair in a fist. Yanking your head down, you're forced to watch his girthy cock violate your pussy for the first time.

"You fuckin' see that?" Joel pants heavily, his own lips parted to let out a few strained grunts. "See how your little pussy sucks me right in? You see that shit, right?" He sounds too cocky for his own good, but he has every right to be. Your mom was never wet enough or tight enough for him. Having her daughter nearly drowning his dick and choking the life out of it was an accomplishment he'll proudly wear like a medal of honor.

"Daddy," you called out to him, but a garbled, drooly mess came out from his fingers still hooked behind your bottom teeth. "Aaahhgghh!!" The next moan was practically punched out of you once Joel started to put some weight into his next few thrusts.

"Thaaaat's it," he has the audacity to laugh at the sudden reaction he pulled from your trembling body. "She's feelin' it now, ain't she?"

More tears spilled down your cheeks, and Joel's depraved sense of self forced him to swipe his spit covered fingers across the wetness to shove back into your mouth, forcing you to taste your tears on your tongue. The tiny moan you tried to hide wasn't ignored. Joel knows you want to let loose and enjoy what he's giving you, but he remembers what's going to happen if you enjoy it too. He can at least make it hurt just for a little, right?

Pulling his hands completely away from your head and face, Joel places them into the crook of your knees to force them to your chest, further spreading you open and giving him more room to work with. Joel doesn't bother to double check if the positioning is comfortable before he's driving his hips so fast and deep against yours, not even giving you time to breathe between each violent thrust. His head tilts back, his grin widening as he hears your pained yelps, feeling your hand desperately grabbing onto his forearms and scratching your nails down his skin, no doubt leaving deep marks.

"This is what a man's dick feels like," he grunts ferociously like a wild beast. "Quit your fuckin' whining and take this dick. Fuckin' take it. Take it. Take it." Joel's fucking you like a madman now, balls so heavy and filled with cum, smacking against your lightly bruised ass cheeks. Your wetness is splattering all over his jeans and your inner thighs. He glances at your face and sees the expression you wear--eyes rolled back and mouth open to let out ungodly noises.

Fuck, you're really enjoying this. No matter what Joel does, you're going to like whatever he does either way. He's tainted you. He deflowered you and rotted you inside and out. You're no longer that sweet, innocent girl he helped his wife raise. No longer did you have that girl-next-door personality. You were his little experiment, his naive toy to play with when he got bored of your mom and needed something new and young. He's in too deep, literally and figuratively. Your dripping wet pussy tightening around his girth has Joel coming back down to reality.

"Jo-oel! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!!" Your little squeals were music to his ears. The noises his cock was forcing out of you were ones you tried to keep hidden, but the pleasure was too intense to keep quiet about. "Right there!! Ri-ight... there!!"

Then, a shrill ringtone fills the room. Joel's back pocket is vibrating, and his hips freeze as if he were being held in a stickup. With his cock still so very deep inside, he glances down and sees a visible bulge in your stomach. He can faintly map out the shape of his mushroomed tip. He pulls out and pushes in again, completely hypnotized with the sight of your belly bulging from his massive cock. You seem transfixed on it as well, your own lips parted in wonder and eyes wide in awe. The phone rings again. Joel hisses a curse under his breath and reaches into his back pocket.

"It's your mom," he gruffly tells you and leans in close to point a finger in your face. "Not a single sound, you hear me?" His heart is pounding as if he ran a marathon. He's nervous, there's no lie there. Thankfully it's not a face call, but still. Joel can't shake the feeling away as he swipes his thumb to answer the call.

"I called you twice. Why didn't you answer the first time?"

Joel rolls his eyes immediately and tries to steady his breathing. Of course, no hi, hello, nothing. She had to go straight into getting on his case about not answering fast enough. His patience was wearing thin. He had half a mind to lay his cards out on the table and tell her he was too busy fucking her daughter to care.

"I was takin' care of a little problem I was havin', honey." Joel lets out a strained moan when your pussy clenches around him accidentally. He shoots you daggers, his glare burning into your skin as you hastily cover your mouth with both hands when he retaliates by shoving his dick so deep into you, it causes the stomach bulge to return.

"Oh, yeah? Well, what if I was dealing with the same problem?"

Her voice dropped into a sultry tone, and Joel's eyes rolled once again before he glanced down between your bodies. He uses his free hand to splay across your mound to rest his thumb against your swollen clit. He traces faint circles around the pearl, relishing the twitch in your thighs and your labored breathing.

"Yeah? You wanna do it together while I still have time?" Joel's hips start fucking into you again, slow and deep, just how you like it. He almost sounds bored when he talks to your mom, but his eyes are wild and filled with want as he stares at your wanton expressions.

"I miss your dick, Joely. Ugh. I need it."

Her moans turned Joel off, especially with that stupid fucking nickname she always called him. The sound of your shaky breathing and warm, wet, tight cunt soaking him brought him back to the present. He can block out your mom's voice and focus on what he's providing you. With one hand keeping the phone pressed to his ear, his other hand bats your hands away from your mouth and instead possessively holds onto your throat as he starts fucking you with rhythm.

"You jus' like this dick too much, don't you? Can't fuckin' live without it," he's making eye contact with you as he talks to your mom. He makes sure that you know he's talking directly to you. With his big hand firmly holding onto your throat, he can feel your skin becoming warmer as the eye contact causes you to fluster.

You nod as best as you can, his hand tightening around your throat to cut off any sounds you were about to make within a few seconds. The steady thwack of his hips against yours could be mistaken for his fist around his own cock to your mom. Joel makes sure to not sound suspicious in the way he's talking. Though he's speaking more to you, he doesn't want to use any of the words reserved for you to be used on your mom. Having her figure out what's been going for the week that she's been gone is not what Joel needs right now. What he needs is to fuck you stupid, doesn't matter if your mom is cockblocking him in the process.

"That's right, honey," he mumbles into the receiver, but loud enough for you to still catch on to his slurred words. He tosses you a wink, pressing his fingers deeper into your throat as he fucks you faster. "Takin' this fuckin' dick so good, huh? Only thing you're good for is takin' this fuckin' dick." He growls the last two words, your moans garbled and incoherent and strained from the pressure around your throat.

Joel takes the hint to release your throat and allow you to get a few gulps of air once he realized you were on the verge of passing out. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, forcing you to lick along his gold wedding band. Joel puts the phone on speaker and lays it beside your head on the pillow. He puts a finger to his lips and carefully maneuvers your legs onto his shoulders. There's really nothing like half-assed phone sex with his unassuming wife while he fucks her teenage daughter on the other line.

How stupid of both of them, being hassled by the same man for entirely different reasons. Joel is a disgusting, sick man. But God, if it doesn't make his dick rock hard right now. He knows he can't be stopped, and that's the fun part of all of this. No matter how hard anybody tries, Joel is going to keep doing this over, and over, and over again.

"I can't wait for you to fuck me again, baby. Ugh! I need it."

Joel looks deep into your eyes as he grinds nice and slow into your leaking cunt, your swollen clit crushed against his pubic hair with his balls pressed firmly between your ass cheeks. In a husky voice, all while maintaining eye contact, he tells your mom into the phone, "I'll fuck you nice and good, honey. I'll fuck you so good, I'll ruin every other man for you."

And with that, he gives you a kiss that was all tongue, teeth, and spit, all the while your mom's exaggerated moans were ignored. She's talking, but neither of you are paying attention. Joel is so focused on devouring your entire mouth with his that he doesn't register your mom calling his name until you're frantically tapping his arm to get his attention back onto the phone.

"I said, do you miss my pussy, Joely?"

"You know I do, honey," he answers almost robotically as he refocuses his attention back on kissing you sloppily. He pulls away from a brief moment to roll his hips deep into yours, swallowing down your squeaky moans with his lips. Your mom is talking again, but Joel doesn't bother to respond. Instead, he lifts himself onto his hands and starts fucking you vigorously.

Hips smacking into hips and wet, sloppy noises fill the room. You're trying your hardest to contain your moans and not cum so suddenly, Joel can see and feel that. He's grunting heavily, his entire lower half smeared and covered in your sticky slick. For such a virgin, you sure do get wetter than the local neighborhood whore that Joel has numerously encountered many years back. There's a saying that goes: Virgin pussy is the best pussy, any man will agree. And Joel stands by that statement as he feels it from his own stepdaughter. It's an ego boost to feel something so warm and tight get so incredibly wet for him, and only him.

"Fuuuuuck, I can hear how wet this pussy is for me," Joel says loud enough for your mom to hear, though he directs it towards you. The pinch of your eyebrows and the rolling back of your eyes tells him more than what you can say aloud.

"Fuck, Joely, I'm gonna cum!"

Joel is fucking into you harder than you can comprehend what's happening. He smacks a hand over your mouth to muffle your little punched out moans. He grunts and growls like an animal, sweat trickling down his spine, further staining his shirt. His heart races at the speed of a cheetah. He feels like the most powerful man as he watches you start to fall apart under him.

"Cum for me," he breathes out, the warmth in his gut getting stronger as he rubs your clit with a shaky thumb. "Fuckin' cum all over my dick like a good fuckin' whore, huh? Are you Daddy's whore? Tell me... aagghhh!!... Tell me you're Daddy's fuckin' bitch."

"Uuhhh, Joel?"

He reaches over to hang up and toss his phone onto the floor with a clatter before leaning completely onto your body, folding you into a pretzel and fucking you with violence. You let out a piercing wail as he fucks the air out of you. Your nails pinch his skin, no doubt drawing blood. Joel's grunting in your face, warming your already heated skin with his beer breath. Tears roll down your temples as you hold onto him for dear life.

"I-I... hhnnggh..." You can hardly speak, let alone open your eyes to tell him exactly what you want to say. "Daddy... I-I... I lo-ove you!"

Joel is taken aback, letting out a surprised moan when your cunt rhythmically contracts around his cock as you cum, and you keep cumming. It doesn't fucking stop. Your pussy is so wound tight around him that Joel couldn't pull out if he wanted to. Squeaky little moans and shaky cries, you hold onto him tighter as your pussy relaxes.

His cock still lodged inside your swollen cunt, Joel observes you in silence. Your words are still echoing in his ears. His cock is nearly soft as it rests comfortably within your ribbed, fleshy walls. Love. Love. Love. You love him. You love him. And it has to be in the same way girlfriends love their boyfriends and wives love their husbands, which isn't the relationship the two of you have.

Joel pulls out before he realizes what exactly he's doing. He hastily tucks himself back into his ruined boxers and zips up his equally ruined jeans. He tossed you your clothes without giving you a single glance.

"Clean yourself up and get dressed. We need to talk," he gruffly says and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him for a dramatic effect.

He paces in the hallway, both hands running through his hair frantically as he tries to figure out what the fuck just happened. That dark, evil voice in the back of his mind returns. It's creeping in slowly, and soon, it overcomes him, drowning him in its darkness.

Look at what you did, Joel. Look at what happened. Love is involved, the one thing you were afraid of happening. Make it hurt. Cause more pain. Do something, NOW.

He's sitting on the couch by the time you come down the stairs, a subtle limp in your step from the rough fucking he gave you just minutes prior. Your clothes are disheveled, and your shirt is on backwards. You're twiddling your fingers and looking down at the ground like a guilty kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Joel's elbows are pressed into his knees with his hands cupped over his mouth in thought. His mind is racing, his thoughts screaming and hollering. For the first time in a long time, he doesn't know what to do.

"Daddy?"

Your gentle voice fills his ears, and he has to force himself to shut his eyes to avoid looking in your direction. He feels the warmth of your presence sitting beside him on the couch. Fuck, he can even smell the thick scent of your pussy, and he wonders if you even cleaned yourself up like he done told you to do. There's a tick in his jaw the more silent he stays. He feels like the first word he utters is going to make him explode.

"Joel?" you whisper meekly, tenderly grabbing onto his tense bicep and flinching when he suddenly jumps up to his feet.

Joel's arm burns from your touch. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He paces back and forth like a tweaker at a gas station, itching to get their hands on some drugs or alcohol. Joel knows that he's royally fucked. He never meant for you to get feelings for him. He thought he was doing the opposite with the way he's been acting with you.

"You stupid fuckin' girl," he barks out a cruel laugh and wipes a hand down his mouth as he shoots around to stare at you with a new fire in his furious eyes. "You don't know what love is, you hear me? You do not know what love is and you sure as hell ain't goin' to get it from me."

He can see his words shoot at you like bullets. The sag in your shoulders and the crestfallen expression you wear on your face was a clear indicator that what he said truly hurt you.

"Excuse me?" your question comes out soft and broken. "You... You don't love me?"

Make it hurt. Ruin it. MAKE IT HURT, JOEL.

"No, I don't," he speaks lowly. "You're real fuckin' dumb to think otherwise, sweetheart. You think all the things I've done to you were from a place of love? Huh? What, you think I really cared about those little feelings you had? News flash, you're just a kid. I ain't your boyfriend, and I sure as hell ain't gonna be a husband for you. I mean, you really think another man will want you after I've already had my fun with your body, hm?"

Joel knew it was a low blow, but he needed to go in for the kill. The way you're looking at him drastically changed into a look of pure hatred and venom. Hot tears spill down your cheeks as he watches you take in his harsh wordss

"I hate you," you wept quietly. "I-I hate you, Joel Miller. You... You bad, bad man."

He leans over with his hands planted on his knees as he slouches to your height. He gives you a mocking pout. "No, sweetheart, you don't hate me. If you hated me, you wouldn't have let me slide my dick inside that pussy of yours and take what was meant to be for a boy your age. Ain't that the truth, hm? No, instead, you let your ol' stepdaddy work his way into your empty little head and make you think that you're really worth somethin'."

He can see in that moment your heart breaking. He stands up straight again, looking down at you with disdain and shakes his head, tsking as he does so. You don't bother to look at him as he fixes your hair over your shoulder. He smiles a little at the flinch you give. When he roughly grabs your jaw in his hand and yanks your head up to look at him, he leans in real close again.

"I still own this pussy whether you like it or not."

And with that, Joel Miller has completely ruined your heart.

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog ; @blueberrypancakesworld ; @heyhihello-4771 ; @codenamekitten ; @chamepagnessimo ; @idioticcatss ; @takochansugoi ; @zjasminelouvre3 ; @natalieispunk ; @koshkaj-blog ; @giowritess ; @beardropascal ; @pascaltesfaye ; @callmeafra ; @nexy00 ; @josephquinnswhore ; @sugadolly ; @baronessvonglitter ; @peelieblue ; @b3bybunny ; @paanchusblog ; @ktluvsmen ; @elliesr1fle ; @taeslarityy ; @yourgirljasmin444 ; @laloestoyvivo ; @aquanatalie ; @vickie5446 ; @cowboybootjoel ; @olicity-boo ; @ashleyfilm ; @withakindheartx ; @puduvallee ; @psychoenergy ; @chuutzuyu ; @cockykookiee ; @cherrysugarx

[alexlwrites]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Alpha! Hyung line x Omega! Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "And through some happenstance, casual and cruel, shaped by the hands of the Moon goddesses, you ended up face to face with what They considered your fated mates.

Of course, they didn’t know that - how could they recognize their goddess-given match if you had no scent? As long as you didn’t reach maturity, only you would feel this pull, this constant urge pooling at your lower abdomen when their scents filled your nose and sent your eyes rolling back.

You knew your place and it was not amongst royalty."

OR  

The one where you find your fated alphas, but they can't find you.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, ABO, Soulmate AUs.

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: Should I be writing another fanfic when I have not finished a single one of my works? No. Does my brain understand that? Also no.

Anyway enjoy, like and subscribe and ignore any mistakes as english is not my first language and i dont proof read anything in my life.

P.S: This is heavely inspired by the book Pack Darling, so shoutout to that duology give it a read, yall!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: This is a 18+ work! Minors, please do not interact. Also, there will be mentions of violence and abuse.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi if you enjoy my work <3)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

You didn’t know how long you had been running, nor how far you’d gotten. The skies had darkened and then lightened again since the moment of your escape and you assumed you had a few more hours before your absence was noticed, but you didn’t have it in yourself to stop, steps only briefly faltering from exhaustion but still fueled by fear.

You had to keep going. No amount of distance was enough between you and what you had left behind.

Still, there was only so much your body could take in its malnourished state and after a while your legs slowed down on their own, feet too hurt to continue carrying your weight. Yet you stumbled forward through unknown woods, watching trees and shrubbery blurr past you as you dragged yourself towards what you hoped was west - towards the coast.

You had never left the walls that surrounded your family’s home, but had seen the maps that covered the walls of your father’s study enough to remember the outlines of the charted land and the sprawling expanse of the coastal city near the territory you lived - the closest and the only one you could get on foot, even if you were unsure what your next step would be once you got there.

Adamas - the capital of diamonds - laid hopefully ahead of you, filled to the brim with marine vessels and royal ships that you could maybe sneak in and let yourself be carried far away from the claws of your family, running until you found somewhere quiet and reclusive where you could spend your days alone and free from your own status and its implications.

But that dream seemed further and further away as your body shivered and withered, unable to continue your journey, faltering until you gave out and found yourself lying atop a pile of leaves on the cold forest floor.

You sighed, a tortured breath escaping your exhausted lungs. Maybe it was the best you’d get - not the solitary cottage you yearned for, but the swift death by the hands of nature. Still an escape, death. Still freedom from that was always expected of you, from the destiny that awaited.

You closed your eyes and waited, giving up on the weight of consciousness. Any moment now, you thought. It would all be over. As the edges of your mind started to become hazy, your tired lungs pulled one more labored breath and with it a scent that reached out to the deepest parts of your soul with a calming, friendly touch and released the tension from your body.

This is heaven, you thought, and allowed yourself to sleep.

***

There was an unconscious omega in his lands and King Namjoon was unsure on what to do.  

Omegas were rare within the wolf genes - they were the smallest of the packs, the caregivers and kindest diplomats, made to become nursing figures within each family dynamic and bring balance to the usually violent and short fused nature of alphas, despite their positions as providers and leaders. But omegas, gentle and fragile omegas, were far and few between and from a very young age Namjoon had been taught to treat them with the utmost care. 

With that being said, Namjoon was also taught to be wary of trespassers and this tiny, wounded omega was somehow within his borders. 

How did you get there, he wondered. There were no roads leading to the back of the castle where he usually strolled through in the early mornings, only thick woods that would be almost a day on foot before you got to any sort of path.

In the end, his instincts spoke louder, dynamics drilled into his brain and pulling him towards the tattered frame on the ground. With all the kindness he could muster from his large frame, he gathered your body in his arms, gently cradling your form.

As he walked, he let his eyes access you: small, disconcertingly thin, with hollow cheeks and dark circles marring your lovely soft features. You had no mating mark on your neck and no distinguishable scent - and that was what confused him the most.

When an omega reaches maturity, their scent would evolve into something unique that would eventually be used to attract a mate and potentially even identify a fated scent match - a partner made by the heavens, your perfect half.

But despite looking past the age of maturity, you smelled clean, neutral with just a hint of sweetness to classify you as an omega.

What on earth could have happened to you, he wondered, worriedly scanning your bruised body and jutting bones.

And what on earth would he do with you?

***

Sometimes Hoseok couldn’t understand his leader.

He watched as Namjoon paced up and down his office, heavy steps echoing around as he stomped in contemplation.

From the day they met, decades ago, when they were both babbling toddlers, Hoseok had accepted  the younger man as pack. Both sons of monarchs, born in allied families, they were thrown together in royal play pens as soon as they could hold the weight of their own heads.

Hoseok always considered it a privilege to watch his brother in arms grow into his  position - a natural born leader, a king. And Hoseok never once doubted his ability to rule fairly and successfully. 

But every so often he couldn’t help but question his friend’s common sense.

“Namjoon” he called to his still restless friend “You cannot possibly be considering throwing the omega in the dungeons?”

“She is technically trespassing” his friend argued stubbornly.

“She’s an omega!”

His own mother being a rare omega, some rules had been drilled very early into Hoseok’s young mind: omegas are to be treasured, his father had said, it is your job as an alpha to protect them should you be blessed enough to find one.

He hadn’t actually seen the omega. He had barely woken up when a maid ushered him to the king’s office where Namjoon had asked for his council while burning a hole through the carpet. 

“She could be dangerous. Some sort of trap, maybe?”

No threat could scare Hoseok more than the idea of his father finding out he had allowed some poor omega to be thrown into their underground cells and so he pleaded “Put her in one of the guest rooms and set my guards in the exits. When she wakes up, I’ll interrogate her myself.”

Namjoon considered the offer for a few seconds, examining the face of the captain of his guard and one of his closest friends. At last, he nodded and settled down in a nearby chair, calling a guard to give the order to move you from the infirmary to the guest aisle of his castle as soon as possible.

Unable to hold back his curiosity any longer, Hoseok asked his shaky leader after a few seconds of silence “What is she like?”

There was a gleam in Namjoon’s eyes Hoseok couldn’t explain and doubted his king could either “Small,” he let out quietly “black and blue all over, all skin and bones like she hadn’t seen a plate of food in days”. Hoseok closed his fists on an impulse and had to force his fingers to relax. Could he blame this sort of reaction on his instincts? 

He thought Namjoon wouldn’t say anything else, but after a few more seconds of silence his king continued “Pretty” he said softly at last, almost like an afterthought.

Hoseok couldn’t help himself, having never met another omega besides his own mother, and asked “And… The scent?”

“Clean.”

Hoseok blinked “She’s a child?”

“No. Full grown. Can’t be more than a couple years younger than us.”

That’s odd, Hoseok thought. From what he was taught, a healthy adult omega should have developed a signature scent - like his mom, with her easily recognizable roses and clear meadows.

Right as he was about to ask to see you, his fascination with the idea of a scentless omega getting the best of him, a maid rushed into the room to announce your awakening.

Both men rushed out of the room, elbowing each other to leave first through the door, impatient to get to where you laid, barely avoiding toppling the poor maid on their way.

The infirmary was a wide room with tall ceilings and large windows that let in the morning light from most angles. That same light illuminated your figure as they walked in, eyes drawn to the only bed occupied in the room.

Oh. You were in fact pretty, Hoseok concluded, watching you blink owlishly at the sunlight invading the space. You had a soft looking kind of beauty that was barely overshadowed by your debilitated state that caused a stirring of protection in both alphas. Who could’ve left you like that, he wondered, and how quickly could he wrap his hands around their necks and twist…

“You’re awake” Namjoon pointed out, catching your attention.

That seemed to be the wrong course of action. When your eyes landed on where the men stood by the door, they widened to the size of saucers. Something about their presence sent you scrambling out of your bed, falling onto the ground with a dull thud as you rushed to put some space between yourself and the imposing males.

“Hey, hey, hey” Hoseok raised his hands, palms facing forward to indicate his intention to cause no harm, your terrified expression keeping him far “Be careful, little lady.”

You didn’t say anything, just kept cowering further and further away until your back hit a wall and you winced in pain.

“Stand up and get back to your bed” Namjoon commanded roughly and Hoseok could see your fighting against the urge to submit to the alpha’s orders, causing him to elbow his friend “Please” he added “You are hurt and weak and shouldn’t be out of bed’ he continued in a much gentler tone. 

Slowly, you moved yourself back to the mattress, shuffling to hide under the blankets, bringing them over your nose and leaving only your panicked eyes visible.

The last thing Hoseok wanted at that moment was to interrogate you when you were so clearly distressed, body shaking under your burrow. But he had duties to uphold and your presence raised questions that just staring at your disarmingly cute face wouldn’t answer.

“What’s your name, little lady?” he asked.

You mumbled your name so quietly he almost didn’t catch it, the sound stifled by the fabric covering your lips. When he did hear it, he did not recognize it.

“How did you manage to get into the castle’s grounds?”

You gulped. “The castle?” you repeated in a whisper. 

“Do you know where you are?” Namjoon asked and you shook your head fearfully “Do you know who we are?”

Sinking deeper into the safety of your blankets, you shook your head once more.

“I’m Jung Hoseok, head of the royal guard” and just when Hoseok thought your eyes couldn’t get any wider, they did, panic seeping further into your gaze “And this is Kim Namjoon” the words had your face paling until devoid of any color, yet he continued “the King of Adamas.”

Both men watched your face for a reaction, seeing you gape in shock, eyes rolling back to your skull as you promptly passed out.

***

You woke up to a churning stomach and a pounding headache, both hunger symptoms that you were very familiar with. How many days had it been since you last ate? You couldn’t tell, the night sky outside the windows of the empty room signaling the end of another day. And at that moment, your starvation was the least of your problems. 

The king - the fucking king - was your mate. And so was the head of his guard. 

When you first opened your eyes to sunlit room, regaining consciousness after Gods knew how long, their scent hit you like a brick to the face, sending you flying off the bed on the brink of a panic attack.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now. You were so close!

You looked for their reaction, trying to gauge if they were feeling what you were - this life changing pull in your core, this prickling feeling underneath your skin, fingers twitching at your side to reach for your alphas.

But there was nothing, not a flick of recognition, only wariness and mild concern.

These were not your alphas - these were your king and his most trusted guard. And you were just an omega on the run, worth only the money you could be sold for.

You remembered the first offer your father had received once the neighboring towns heard about his siring of an omega. Up until then your father had never seen much value in your existence. Before you, he had only had alpha boys - three, to be exact - older, stronger and meaner than you, built for leadership roles and bringing his legacy to another level.

But you? What use did he have for small, needy, whimpering you? None, he had told you many times over. Your father had never been afraid to remind you of your place in the household: the burden.

Until you became the pot of gold.

You weren’t sure how, but someway or another the news of your existence reached the next town and then the next town over, and so forth until your father was reminded that even though he saw no value in housing an omega, the rest of the world did. 

5 million. That was the first offer he received, when you were only fourteen.

And for a moment you believed that could be your way out of your father’s cruel claws - get yourself a husband far away and live happily ever after, pampered and taken care of by some alpha knight.

But those daydreams died soon enough when you learned from the maids what happened to sold omegas.

Imprisoned. Trapped. Breeded. Discarded. Rinse. Repeat.

There was an audible crack in your heart, a rift in the fragile rivulet of hope you had for a future of better days. Since then, the only thing you could hope for was an escape. You daydreamed of far away lands and open fields with no civilization for miles, only an ivy covered cottage for you to hide away from the world.

Alas, that dream seemed further and further away as you got older. You knew your father was just waiting for you to present, hoping that whatever scent you developed would up the price with its enticement and your late blooming was a constant reason for his frustration. Your development was the only thing between you and your sale to the highest bidder.

And if you had any say in it, you would never present. In order to do so, your body needed to be healthy - and you just never were.

Starvation, overexhaustion and overworked muscles had been your saviors since you realized they could delay your maturity. So from the day you turned 16 - about the age omegas started presenting - you began restricting your meals to about one every two days. You ran around the property’s grounds until your feet screamed in agony and your knees gave out. Your sleep schedule was messy and insufficient and so your body remained fragile and unchanged.

And that worked up until your 22nd birthday when your father got tired of waiting.

And so you ran, climbing on the back of a supply carriage that you had visited one day and letting it carry you as far as it could. And then you sprinted, like you had been doing for years.

And through some happenstance, casual and cruel, shaped by the hands of the Moon goddesses, you ended up face to face with what They considered your fated mates.

Of course, they didn’t know that - how could they recognize their goddess-given match if you had no scent? As long as you didn’t reach maturity, only you would feel this pull, this constant urge pooling at your lower abdomen when their scents filled your nose and sent your eyes rolling back.

You knew your place and it was not amongst royalty. You were, as your father always pointed out, too small, too weak and too soft to carry on a legacy, a kingdom. 

You had to get out before your ticking bomb of a body turned against you and distanced you once more from your peaceful cottage dream.

You just needed to figure out how.

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐌𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝

[ushiwhacka]

time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,446 words | established relationship, semi-public sex, oral (m! receiving), rough sex, size kink, body worship, aftercare, wakatoshi fucks your face because he loves you, ok <3

a/n: i'm so sorry if you've seen this before! i accidentally deleted my original post so yeah oops.

it’s the way wakatoshi introduces you to his teammates and coaches. his hand resting gently on the small of your back, protecting, reassuring. the silk of your dress crumples around his fingers as they dig into your flesh. a reminder that he’s thinking of you, even as he’s spent the last ten minutes discussing serve techniques and tactics. it’s the way he pulls out your chair and lends you his palm in support as you stand up. it’s the way his eyes become softer when he looks at you. little tender moments enough to start a spark deep in your belly.

at first, it’s just a gentle warmth, the intertwining of fingers, a tug of the sleeve as you pull him closer and lean into him. but he looks so handsome in his suit. and he smells so good as he dips his head down, his nose brushing your hair as he tells you how beautiful you are, how incredible that dress looks on you. 

warmth grows into searing heat and touches turn needy. nimble fingers squeezing around the thickness of his arm, tracing the ridges of hard muscle. then moving down to his thigh, playful and light, running along the inside seam of his pants, moving up up up, until his hand wraps around your wrist - an unspoken that’s enough.

need grows into impatience, lips brushing his ear as you whisper saccharine words, syrupy sweet and sticky. but toshi has an irritating amount of self-control and your attempts at seduction are met with gentle pats on the head that feel condescending.

but everything has its limit. 

“i want to rub my pussy all over you.” he swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat, and his jaw clenches as he turns to look at you. “i’m already so wet. wanna feel?” you hold his hand in your lap as you look at him through long, dark lashes. yes, even his self-control has a limit, and he’s toeing the line. and he knows it’s been crossed when he feels the constraining tightness of his slacks.

minutes later you’re dragging him through empty corridors, checking every door until finally, one opens to reveal a tiny closet. it’s dimly lit and filled with mops and brooms, but it will do. you pull him inside the room by the tie, then keep tugging it down until your lips meet his in a rushed kiss. 

“we should go home.” he doesn’t pull away.

“but we can’t,” your hand curls around the bulge of his chubbed cock, “you’re so hard.” oh, he knows. “you should let me take care of you.” people will notice your absence, his teammates will have an invasion of questions. but all his doubts falter and shatter in the grasp of your soft hands.

so wakatoshi lets you push against his broad chest, inhaling sharply as the backs of his thighs meet a worn-out wooden cabinet. his lips never leave yours. his hands on your neck as he tilts your face towards his. but then you’re moving down again, trailing sloppy kisses down the column of his neck, leaving the collar of his white shirt stained with lipstick and sticky gloss. 

he leans against the cabinet, long legs bent at the knees and then there’s you kneeling between them. biting your swollen lips as you make quick work of his belt and zipper before pulling his pants and underwear down as far as they will go. 

you wrap both of your hands around the base of his cock. it’s so imposing, intimidating even. and you’re never quite sure how you manage to fit it… anywhere, really. so heavy it hangs in your hold. 

but it’s also really cute when it gets all flushed and weepy. “hi baby!” the blush spreads from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. he can’t understand why you always have to talk to it like that. “aww so leaky,” you coo, “i think you want attention, hmm?”

you kiss along his length, leaving more faint lipstick marks behind. his teeth grind against each other at the feeling. he needs more. and you know it, but you love to tease, love to see him squirm in your grasp. you nuzzle your cheek against the velvety skin, looking at him all doe-eyed. “it’s so soft,” your voice a tender mewl. 

he has to look away from you for his own sanity. but it’s really to no avail because this - the delicate material of your dress draping over concrete, innocent words a contrast to the lewd way you’re toying with him - is an image now burned into his brain. and then there’s the creeping realisation that he likes this. he wants it. 

“just use your mouth,” his voice is strained and hoarse, words clawing their way up his throat, “please.” 

no. you bury your face in his balls instead. tongue flat, lapping and sucking on the sensitive skin before tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock. then running the weeping tip over your lips that turn glossy with his precum. and finally, finally, you wrap your lips around it, whimper a little as you suckle on it.  

your mouth is so warm, so wet. and his breaths catch between his ribs as you slobber on the fleshy head, his hands gently holding your face. cheeks hollowing out, your spit mixed with the taste of him dripping down the side of your chin. 

toshi’s knuckles turn white as he grips the wooden edge of the cupboard. and whiter still as you move down the length of his shaft. your lips stretching around it. and you look at him, eyes blown with lust and welling with tears as he hits the back of your throat. he thinks he might just cum at the sight of you, so pretty on your knees, so pretty with your mouth full of his cock. barely even halfway in and already struggling as you try to swallow around the girth of it. 

he doesn’t mean to but his hands find their way to your head. fingers tangled in your hair and gripping at the roots. he can’t help how his hips buck all on their own. you feel so good, so divine and he can’t hold back the groans that rumble in his throat when you look at him like that, when the only sound he can hear is you gagging on his size, when he sees your spit dribbling down the valley of your breasts. you feel so good that he doesn’t even realise he’s fucking your throat raw. your nails digging into the meat of his thighs, sure to leave angry, crescent marks. but he’s never felt a pleasure so intense, so consuming that it clouds his mind and makes him relinquish all control over his body. it’s instinctive and primal, this need to feel more of you. to surrender to you.

his thrusts turn faster, erratic. and he’s growling out a string of warnings. “i’m- i’m close. i’m close.” but his hands never leave their place on your head and he buries himself inside your throat completely as he finds release. his cum thick and warm, too much to swallow as you sputter around him. 

beads of it pool at the corners of your lips. and you’re still catching your breath as you drag your thumb across your mouth and then between your teeth to collect those last few drops. 

his head is thrown back, chest heaving and brain fuzzy. swiping a hand through his hair, damp with sweat and sticking to his skin. his state a testament to the power you hold over him. then he’s reaching out for you, every praise that he can think of bubbling in his chest. 

but all that comes out is an almost stern “come here.”

wakatoshi helps you to your feet and holds you close to his chest as gentle fingers wipe away the mascara staining your cheeks.  then he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, smoothes the lapels over your chest, envelops you in the scent of his woody perfume. and a few stolen moments in a mouldy broom closet feel something like worship in his arms. 

one hand holding yours while the other rests on the doorknob. “should we go home so you can rub your pussy all over me?” it sounds very different covered in the deep rasp of his voice. and you feel the burn of embarrassment in your ears and the need to hide your face in the creases of his shirt.

“wakatoshi,” you squeal, “you can’t just say that to me!” a deep breath. “but yes.”

for my 🔭 anon <3 it's even later but it's here (again)!

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[bulbabutt]

ok i wanna talk about tmnt 2007 and the way i think this is the best version of a leo and raph conflict, and also leo as a character

for context i've been talking about tmnt things kinda chronologically, so i'm gonna mention an unconditional understanding in 03 i bring that up in a previous post about that show and the family dynamics in it here if u want context for what i mean

i think this movie can really be appreciated for the place it has between adaptations, and the way character-wise everyone is more or less the same as they've always been but with a more interpersonal relationship as the focus. the main villain of this movie doesn't really matter, the conflict, the fights, that's not where the strength is (although, it is reflected in the conflict and ill get into that)

so tmnt 07 is one movie that kind of combines the 90s movies, 03, and mirage all in one place, and tonally is is similar to the show that will come after it, 12. if the 90s movies give us conflict between leo and raph, and 03 gives us the unconditional understanding between the two, 07 takes these two aspects and creates a story out of it. (debate in your own mind if this movie is a literal sequel to the 90s ones or not, its not that important)

the set up of this movie is we are in a post killing the shredder world. leo has been told by splinter to go get training elsewhere, there isn't much context for what happened to cause this, but i would bet its a similar cause to 03, where he had ptsd and lashed out at his father to which splinter sends him to his grandfather to get better advice than he thinks he can give him. the difference here is there is no grandfather hes sent to, he's sent on a journey of self discovery around the world to learn about it and himself.

the thing about leo as a character, and this goes for all leos, he's has a very black and white way of thinking. leo thinks he's been sent away because he's failing his family, that he's not a good enough leader. so he stays away for longer because he doesn't feel good enough. he finds a place where he can help and he does that. leo always needs a bad guy to fight, or else he's fighting his own demons. so he stays there for a long time. finding a place he can help quietly, never letting anyone see him, and becoming a legend to the locals because no one knows what's really going down.

april manages to track him down and tell him about whats going on with his brothers, how they're holding up without him and without being a team, and i think thats a good reminder for him that they miss him. he doesn't tell april but he finds a way home only after hearing about this. when he arrives and speaks to splinter, he says "i was so caught up in my own world i forgot about everyone else, i'm sorry i failed" he still doesn't feel like he's done anything of worth.

i'm gonna jump in here and say, you know how we all love rise raph? cuz hes the big brother and some traits that come from that are like being overprotective and taking on everyone else's problems and trying to handle emotions alone? well that's a trait thats usually leo's. but the difference with leo is sometimes that concept doesn't make you as likeable. sometimes it means you come off like a nagging mother hen who thinks they know best but in an arrogant way. sometimes it makes you mirror being a parent when no one asked you to be. leo's less of a passionate character than raph, hes more analytical and full of himself. he takes splinters lessons more seriously, and hes always trying to do whats best for everyone so they don't have to worry. this is something evident with 03 and 12, but its so specifically noticeable here because these traits make up the main conflict. i just want to bring that up so we start seeing leo as no different than some of our other favourite iterations.

splinter responds to his apology by saying "you owe me no apology, but perhaps you should talk to raphael, your absence has been particularly difficult for him, though he'll never admit it" but when leo greets him raph is brushing him off.

on raph's end, this is him being angry that leo left, and angry that hes back and everyone wants to pretend that he wasn't gone at all. as if the time he was gone didn't happen. hes lashing out because he too cant handle talking about these emotions. and hes lashing out by becoming a vigilante in his own right.

i see a lot of people misunderstand what raph is doing here, that "this is what the turtles always do" or "this is the same as what leo was doing how could he be mad" when that is not true. that's what casey does. its true that both leo and raph have been fighting bad guys on their own (as a way of dealing with their issues) but raphael has made himself a costume to disguise himself which means hes prepared to be seen. hes riding a motorcycle around, which is loud. this isn't stealthy, this is aggressive. his vigilante name is in the news. the turtles are ninjas, they silently help where they can and fade into the night and, very specifically, they work as a team. these turtles live in a dangerous world, what if something happened to him while no one else was around? they would never know because he never told anyone.

so raph is lashing out, and leo doesn't have a good way of dealing with it. he tries to slide back into being leader, doing what splinter says but he forgets how his brothers are, and with raph egging them on they get into fights they shouldn't. which leo specifically gets in trouble for, as the oldest brother, and as their leader. leo tries to be this better leader hes supposed to have learned to be, but it doesn't work and raph ends up back out there in his vigilante get up. leo tracks down said vigilante, and in his peak "leo knows best" moment, lectures him, not knowing its his brother. there's a scuffle, and the mask comes off. let me point out that casey knew this vigilante was raph but his own brother didn't, because leo has been gone that long.

so lets get into what this fight is really about. on the surface, its "wow you've been going out at night alone putting yourself in dangerous situations with no backup" and "so what you're just mad that i can do it without you" which leo would be right about. and this is the analytical leo, he really thinks that's all that's going on here. what hes missing is that raphael has missed him as a brother, and hes hurt that leonardo left and just came back no big deal. that he wants everything to be normal. raphael is always a character with big emotions and the only outlet he knows to express them is violence.

leo, who as we've established, went away to learn to be better for his family is angry that raph doesn't see that. he's mad raph doesn't appreciate the effort he went to, and he thinks he's just angry because he's not in charge. each brother sees the other as being arrogant.

this leads them to the big fight. no one can disagree that this is the best part of the movie (seriously watch the movie for this scene if you haven't seen it before) , but the real best part of it is that raphael wins. raph proves hes just as capable of a fighter as his brother, if not more-so. he uses those sais as they're supposed to be used, catching leo's swords and in a fit of rage he fucking breaks them, leaving leo defenceless and completely vulnerable to attack. you'd think he'd be smug that leo lost but he pauses, going through a lot of emotions in a moment, questioning what he's doing, why hes doing it. and leo finally looks his brother in the eye and sees raph going through something he didn't before, realizing raph hasn't been angry that he's back, but that he's angry that he ever left. they don't have a conversation, because raph cant handle all these emotions and he runs away, crying as he does. leo just watches him, taking it all in and realizing the error of his ways.

hearing leo scream turns raph around, but he's too late to help him, and this is where raph regrets his own actions because right then, leo is also proven right in his argument. because he gets kidnapped. if leo hadn't chased raph down, there is a very good chance that would have been raph being kidnapped. with no backup, with no one knowing what happened to him. that's why its important that the turtles are a team.

raph goes home full of guilt, and there's a good moment of showing how he cannot open up emotionally here, because he grunts, punches the wall, knocks over some weights and forces splinter to ask him what happened, because that's how raphael is. he laments to his father that he finally understands why leo is the better son, proving that to raph none of this was about their team, but about their family. conflating the two ideas in his head. splinter gives him a talk that mirrors what he said to leo when he returned earlier in the movie, encouraging him that he is a good son and brother. this shows that these brothers have very similar insecurities about their value to their family.

the rest of the movie plays out as you expect, they go save leo, they stop the bad guy, they reconcile and behave as the team they're supposed to be. but i just want to point out that the villains plot is mirrored in leo and raph's conflict. the 'villain' here is a brother who has been cursed to be immortal without his own siblings. for 3000 years he lived to regret his actions and decided to undo his curse, but he used the cursed stone versions of his siblings to do so. no communication, just thinking he knew better (which maybe he did) and lying about it. that caused them to lie to him right back, and try to overthrow him and destroy the world. this is just one family whose inner turmoil could have destroyed the world. you might say, oh that's not a very interesting turtles villain, but its not supposed to be. its not the focus.

this movie is all about the complicated relationship between a family, and i see so many people talk about it by trying to ask who's right and who's wrong. that's not how it works. life is more complicated than that, people are more complicated than that. its boring to look at this movie and just say "leo is wrong and raph is right" because that's not even how the characters see it. this movie is about leo and raph being mirrors of each other in their arrogance, in their insecurities, and in their stubborn pig-headed refusal to let the other know how they feel. splinter says as much at the start of the movie. this whole movie shows that without each other, they need to be fighting something so they don't get swept up by their own emotions, which they are both bad at processing. they are SUCH brothers. they are so similar emotionally, yet they have such a hard time understanding each other.

personally 07 leo is my favourite leo for his complexity, his flaws his strength, his growth. its sad we never got those sequel movies to get into the other brothers heads as much as we got into leo and raphs heads.

also nolan north and james arnold taylor gave the best vocal performances in this movie and they deserve all the credit for it.

[barleyo]

Hii! Merry Christmas<3 Can I request some nsfw for sir nighteye please? He works late and doesn’t get home until really late at night and the reader is kinda sad because they’re lonely without him. Ty :))

All I Want For Christmas.

Sir Nighteye x F! Reader (smut)

A/N: As you can probably tell, I got the request last year during Christmas. Shame on me for taking so long, I truly apologize. You can beat me up if you wish, anon, I wouldn't blame you </3 (also if you noticed re-used writing of mine from other fics in this... mind your business)

Word Count: 1.4k

Tags: Nighteye's real name used, smut, p, handjobs, oral (f receiving), established relationship

The holidays were always hard. Mirai was dedicated to his job, being Sir Nighteye and all, even as the winter months approached. He never forgot about them, per se, but he never made much room for them. He tried to get off of work earlier when he met you, making sure that he would at least see you before you went to bed every night. A call, a text, anything. He did his best, but no matter how hard he tried, work was his driving force in life.

You tried to not let it bother you, you knew the hardships that came with being with a pro hero. You kept that thought in your head as you stood near the oven, bending down to shove your last batch of cookies in. 

You had been baking the whole day in preparation for Christmas. Hoping that Mirai would join you, you had an apron sitting on the dining room table for him, but that hope had faded out at around 9:30 P.M. when you realized it would be another late night of work for him. Your hands trembled a bit, the heat of the pans seeping through your old, worn oven mitts as you transferred a hot tray to your makeshift cookie decoration station.

You slapped icing on the warm cookies, blowing on them as the sweet frosting melted off of the tops. Your table had become cluttered and messy, with icing, sprinkles, flour, and crumbs dusting the tablecloth. 

“Damn it,” you mumbled, slipping your thumb into your mouth after catching a scoop of icing on it. You took a whole cookie, hands fidgeting at its warmth as you struggled to hold it, and took a bite, trying to enjoy yourself as much as you could, despite your husband's absence.

“They look nice.”

“Hmph?" You spun around quickly, hand wiping quickly at the crumbs on your lips. Your eyes relaxed when you noticed the familiar green tufts of hair and golden eyes before you. “Yeah, I’ve been making them all day.” She held back from adding 'no thanks to you' at the end of her sentence.

“Do you need any help? I don’t have to go into the office tomorrow. I can help out for as long as you need me to tonight.” Mirai offered his hand out to you, but let it fall down to his side when you coldly turned away from him.

“Most of the work is done already, I don’t think I need your help.” You winced at her own words, feeling the venom they were laced with. “I think you should just head to bed. I can handle this."

His stoney face didn’t budge, he clearly wasn’t satisfied with your answer. “I’m sure you can, but I’d like to help you. I enjoy spending time with you, doing things that you enjoy.” Rolling up his sleeves, he began clearing the table of the cookie cutters and mixing bowls, placing them softly in the sink. “I will wash those later, do not worry.” 

You ignored his words and tried to urge him away again. “Aren’t you tired from work? I really think you should go to sleep. Working for so long just to come home and do more work can't be healthy.”

“Is that what this is about then? Me working so long?”

“No, it’s not. And there is no ‘this,’ nothing is going on,” you scoffed, dripping more red icing onto a stray cookie.

There was silence for a moment before you felt arms wrap around your waist, firm but gentle. You placed the icing bag down on the table and tried to look, but your neck couldn’t crane far enough to see him. He slouched down, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I have been neglecting you, haven’t I?”

“Mirai, no, it’s not like that, I know your job is Important. I can’t imagine how hard it is to be a hero, but I just wish…” your voice fizzled out a bit when his large hands started to travel up and down your body, stopping at your chest momentarily.

“That I’d make more time for you? I hear you, dear. I’m not being fair, am I? Here you are, doing all of this alone, and during the holidays. Leaving you alone at a time like this isn’t considerate. Leaving you alone at all isn’t right on my part.”

He licked a stripe over your neck, sucking on the spot softly. His teeth edged the skin, leaving a small purple mark on it. After examining it once more, he let go of you and spun your body around to face him.

“I know you’ve missed me,” Mirai said softly, “I’ve missed you too. Being with you, feeling you, all of it. Can I show you how much I’ve missed you?” 

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Please.��

He used his long, thin fingers to untie the knot at the back of your apron, shooting it down to the floor. He made quick work of your pants too, leaving only your shirt on.

Before he touched you, you quickly made your move and unbuckled his belt, slipping his cock out swiftly.

Giving a few, testing strokes, you held as much of his cock that she could manage in your fist. You went fast, tip to base, knowing he would want to stop to please you instead. He shuttered a bit, hips threatening to snap into your hand. 

“You spoil me," he said softly into your ear, jaw tensing with each stroke, "but right now is not about me. I want to apologize to you, to make you feel good. Let me.” 

You didn't let go, instead you focused on the head of his cock, rolling it in your hands. “Not until you cum. I've waited too long for this."

Mirai took a breath through his nose and huffed at you. "Fine." 

He stopped holding his composure and let himself sink into the pleasure that your hand provided. He could cum quite quick if he let himself go, but his tense nature let him last quite a while in other circumstances. 

His breathing went ragged and sharp. He brought his hips back and forth, fucking into your hand desperately. He pulled your hand off of his dick before he could cum, not honoring your little agreement.

"Hey, you promised," you whined, frustration crossing your face while you looked up at him.

"I know. I am such a liar, aren't I?" His breathy laugh fanned your face, and the small smile he flashed was enough to erase any anger you had in that moment.

He placed his hand gently on your face, tipping your head to look up at him.  "Do you want my mouth, or do you want me to fuck you?"

"Your mouth." You felt his hands manhandle you upwards, placing your body on the table behind you.

"Good. I always like when you choose that option."

His mouth made quick work, tongue already gliding small circles around your clit. 

"Stop moving," he said, pressing his tongue flatly on your mound. Your legs kept pressing together, as if you were trying to push him away. He slipped one hand between your thighs and forcefully held them apart. 

His large tongue slid through your wet folds, slowly teasing through, from your entrance to her pulsing clit. He stopped at your clit again and clasped his lips around it, sucking on the tender bud. He let  dribbles of spit fall from his mouth onto your cunt, only slurp it back up again to keep you wet and messy.

Not hesitating, you reached your hand down and gripped his hair, holding him in place, and rolled your hips onto his face. 

He didn't mind, simply letting a soft laugh escape his lips. It was cute, the way you took what you wanted from him. 

Your legs stuttered as you moved, twitching while moans caught in your throat. Your hands still pushed his face into your cunt. The feeling of his nose nudging your clit sent you over the edge. A sweet wave crashed over you, making you practically vibrate with pleasure.

After your grip on his hair loosened, your husband stood up and looked down at you, eyes peeking past his fogged up glasses.

"So, do you think you can forgive me now?" 

You rolled your eyes at the smirk that played on his lips and shook your head. Rolling over, you pushed your ass up against the tent in his boxers. 

"Not yet."

[ogsherlockholmes]

The Hound of Watson's Grief

I made a post a few weeks ago about how all of the Holmes stories could be interpreted as Watson's imagination in order to compensate for his loneliness (sorry for putting that idea in your heads) and I wanted to expand on that by focusing on The Hound of the Baskervilles. So, prepare for some inarticulate rambling which I hope will make sense.

One of the things that has always struck me about this particular story is ultimately how different it is from the rest of the canon: not just Holmes' noticeable absence in the mid-section, but the emphasis on Watson's description and the supernatural features. Although these can still be seen in the other stories, The Hounds of the Baskervilles still seems to exist separately from them, and I have a an idea why this is.

The Hounds of the Baskervilles, as a story, was never meant to be. Holmes was dead- ACD was proud to announce that. He had rid himself of the so called 'great detective', and could focus on more historical serious novels. But, alas, he thought of an interesting story line, and could think of no other way of conceiving it without help from Holmes. So, Holmes was prematurely resurrected, without any form of indication that he was actually alive, or if this was D Watson writing up his notes, or if the audience should just suspend their disbelief and read the story as an undefined prequel.

Realistically, that is about all there is to say about the premise of The Hound of the Baskervilles: the story just is, and we have to accept that. But what of THotB is purely a work of fiction, including within the realms of the fictional world of Sherlock Holmes? In some ways, THotB could be read as Watson finding an outlet for his grief for Holmes.

Firstly, Holmes' absence: not just in the story, but in Watson's life and in the public's life. Holmes was dead, with no chance of return... supposedly. He had died offstage, with no witnesses, apart from the man who died with him, so no one could check with him if Holmes was actually dead. For Watson, the only proof he had of Holmes' death was a letter, with no body to bury; for a man who had spent so much time with someone so furtively based on facts, I can't imagine that that would have felt right to him. Holmes was dead, but where did he die? It's reasonable to suppose that Watson went through a stage of denial, believing that Holmes was still alive. Of course, he couldn't admit that to the public (like so many other things... the unreliable narrator that he is) so he would need another outlet. So, why not write a story involving Holmes? Maybe Watson began writing, including all the quintessential characteristics of Holmes (his quick deductions, sarcastic quips and his effortlessness in complimenting Watson), but then the realisation of his friend's death dawned on him. Watson looks back on his work, and remembers that he now must solve mysteries by himself. Holmes is busy elsewhere, and Watson is alone.

Watson begins a tirade of long, flowery descriptions (in the words of Holmes "cut out the poetry, Watson") which are usually skipped over in the shorter stories. We are fully immersed in the gloomy Dartmoor with its "tinge of melancholy", and the introduction of an escaped prisoner: Selden, the Notting Hill murderer. This feels like compensation for Watson forcing Holmes' logic in the earlier chapters, almost as though he's trying to build another story for himself. The addition of the Baskerville legend also seems more alligned with Watson's interests than Holmes: overall, THofB becomes more of Watson indulging himself in a fairy tale than reporting facts, as Holmes would prefer.

Still, Watson is just as dutiful as ever, writing letters to Holmes, but receiving little response. Again, this might be a parallel for Watson's life: he wishes to communicate with his late friend, but hears nothing back. Here, Watson might be doubting himself again: he's obsessing over Holmes' death, so much so that he can't be sure he's even dead. A glimmer of hope: maybe Holmes is alive, and he's out there, waiting to come back. Watson mentions "the figure of a man upon the tor", the "tall, thin man" which is undeniably Holmes: he allows himself this fantasy, to the point where he explicitly states this idea when he reveals that Holmes has been with him in Dartmoor all along, but hiding away from him. But, he can't be too certain, so Selden (who could be seen as a mirror to Holmes as he is confused with Holmes as being the figure on the Moor) is killed off as soon as Watson finds Holmes. Again, Selden is killed offstage and by falling off an edge, which sounds familiar...

Now, Watson has his Holmes back, in theory. He ends the story by describing Holmes being involved in other matters which he doesn't provide too much detail on, as per usual. The story was quickly and almost effortlessly resolved, with the antagonist, Stapleton, seemingly dead but the protagonist, Henry Baskerville, saved. I don't think it is too much of a stretch to say that Stapleton and Baskerville are Moriarty and Holmes substitutes, respectively (Stapleton's academic backgrounds and unusual characters; Baskerville's assertiveness, Watson's detailed descriptions of his movements and appearance, the implication that Selden's death was originally confused as his). So, here is another instance of Watson applying the narrative he wants, almost as though he's manifesting Holmes' resurrection.

I've thrown many ideas together which can probably be easily disregarded, but I tried rereading the story with this perspective, and I think it helped me make sense of certain aspects of the story which never sat comfortably with me. Although I'm not claiming to know the true reason why ACD wrote THotB, I do hope that you can understand the point I'm trying to make.

[mrs-snape5984]

“I'll meet you on a day that never ends. I'll greet you in a way that heaven meant…”

“I hope you don't break my heart of stone. I don't wanna scream out loud and wake up on my own…” (“Idler’s Dream” by Oasis)

Considering, that I don’t see any way out of the misery, which my life has become since this cruel and inexorable disease ME/CFS has robbed me from being myself, I’ve started to commission some of my beloved artists of Snapedom with a special project of mine. I explained to them, that I’m slowly fading away from my life as well as from other people’s lives. It started two years ago, when this sickness got me into her relentless grip, forcing me to let go of the life, I’ve known before. Losing more and more of my abilities and strengths with each passing day, I’m finding myself in an unstoppable spiral of torments.

Nowadays, I’m not capable of leaving my room and most of the times even my bed anymore. Day in, day out I’m surrounded by darkness, silence and solitude. Participating in social activities, in milestones of my children or even in longer conversations with friends isn’t possible for me anymore. My presence has lost its meaning and purpose.

Whereas my phone didn’t stand still in the beginning of my disease, when friends and colleagues were worried about me…it’s getting more silent now. People are starting to forget about me…and yes, I can absolutely understand them. It must be frustrating to send messages or attempt to call me without getting a proper reply. My former boss told me some weeks ago, that people are feeling speechless about my situation, so it’s easier for them to forget about me…letting me become a faint memory in the back of their heads. This is exactly, what I meant, when I said, that I’m fading away…and it’s okay. I can’t be mad about it. I understand.

It’s also happening here on tumblr…and yet, here are still some kind people, who seem to notice my silence. I was astonished to hear, that my friend @capysnapeart, whom I commissioned for this beautiful artwork of Severus and my highly self-inserted OC Jules, searched me in a sweet post on their blog, after not hearing from me for several days. I was even more dumbfounded, when I realised, that other lovely people of Snapedom had also noticed my absence from my online life. This was very unexpected, but - indeed - touching and heartwarming to me. Thank you for not forgetting about me.

The project, which I’ve commissioned @capysnapeart and some other artists for, should show the different stages of the life, I’m expecting to have after my final breath, which doesn’t seem to be so far away anymore. I’ve set myself a limit…a certain point of no return, at which I won’t be able to accept and endure my pain and my suffering anymore. Well…let’s just leave it like that.

In my imagination, I will be able to choose, how my afterlife will look like. I will be with Severus, the character, I’ve been clinging on for the past 21 years, already. I imagine, that we will meet at the age of 11 years and from then on, we will spend the rest of our lives together...growing old together. It may sound strange and pathetic, but this is all, that I'm wishing for. I want to come home to him...

I asked Capy to draw Severus and Jules as a middle-aged couple…sitting on a bench in front of their little cottage at the sea. I’d love to see them being happy together…finally living the life, they’ve always wanted to live…the life, they’ve deserved to have! They’re cuddling on this wooden bench…feeling like home in themselves.

Capy, my dear friend, I’m beyond grateful for your understanding of my wish for this mesmerising artwork. You’ve managed to capture the peace and the silence of this scenery so perfectly, that it made me shed countless tears of longing. A longing for this fantasy to become true one day, when I will let go of my existence, eventually. Thank you for your talent, your kindness and your acceptance of my ideas. Feel hugged! 🫂🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[hanakihan]

so since @i-bring-crack gave me the idea now I’m having a brainrot so here we are

‘Tired salaryman transmigrates into other world, decides to chill and accidentally completes the main quest without knowing so’, the thread

- jinchul is your average day to day salaryman who’s exceptional in his field but his life is so repetitive and boring he rarely questions what he does daily, even on weekends he mostly sleeps or works because there’s nothing else to do (he’s like me fr—)

- one night he was returning home after a really hard day at work, one of very few instances where he overworked even by his own standards. he was sleepy and tired enough not to notice moon being too bright and shadows dancing at weird angles around him. he did feel like someone was watching him whole way home so he sped up his walking and that’s exactly how he accidentally fell through one of shadows after stepping on it

- he doesn’t remember everything after that that much, but next thing he knows is that he’s laying in a comfortable bed. then apparently he wakes up in a strange room that kinda looks something straight out of historical drama but also something out of those isekai fantasy novels teenagers love to read. which is even more confusing when a man enters the room. that’s when jinchul realizes he has no idea what language this man speaks.

- apparently after several hours of struggling to communicate mostly through sign language and awkward drawings/sketches, jinchul more or less understands that he’s either sleeping after overworking too much or he’s really been thrown into other world (time??) without any knowledge. Go Gun-Hee (as he suspects man’s name is because he pointed at himself and said it several times) was nice enough to host poor man with amnesia and so is his wife. jinchul is a man of gratitude and considering his position he’s more than happy to help around their estate for sheltering him while also borrowing language books from their library. thank god his company made him learn several languages for business reasons.

- after some time jinchul is able to read and talk in their language so living becomes slightly better. history books of this world provide more context so yes, he’s apparently in some kind of different world where magic exists. he should freak out by this point but honestly when freaking out helped in any situation. there’s whole kingdom, there’s local religion, there’s so much he actually needs to memorize. jinchul is actually glad basic accounting rules from his world work here too so with time jinchul becomes gunhee’s accountant.

- jinchul hates coffee but only after arriving here and seeing there’s no such thing as coffee, jinchul realizes he might’ve been a caffeine addict. there was a solid month where he suffered drawback from its absence and it was impossible to even get up from bed. he hates coffee still but he misses it because now all tiredness crushes down on him in one go

- weirdly enough this world does have something akin to coffee beans but no one knows what do with them. just to test out jinchul buys some (under merchant’s questionable stare) and brews them. turns out it tastes almost exactly like coffee, just less bitter and less caffeine. jinchul’s opportunistic mind started to turn gears in his head.

- through some time jinchul now owns a famous shop, only one in whole country to sells and serves coffee related stuff. he’s more than happy with his arrangement, plus he has his own independent income and more free time to visit gunhee and his wife. he also isn’t that healthy (because honestly who’s he to sell coffee at astronomical price like it was back in his world) but he earns enough for living.

- one evening right before closing his shop is visited by a man. jinchul tenses because there’s something familiar about his presence. something from back from his world. something at last moment before he fell here. even is said man is actually nice, just a little stone faced, jinchul is still on high alert. rightfully so because room feels smaller and darker and he can swear he can feel phantom of a cold hand on his neck. it’s suffocating and for the first time here jinchul actually fears for his life.

- man leaves but occasionally returns from time to time to test different coffee and sweets combinations. there’s nothing much happening but jinchul is always uncomfortable. there’s something threatening but not actively so.

- during one of such visits jinchul is absolutely baffled when this unknown man visits his shop again and gifts him rare calming herbal tea leaves and best brand of kingdom’s chocolate. in exchange he asks for best cup of coffee and best desert jinchul can offer. through observations jinchul offers man’s favorites and was right because now everything is less suffocating and stiffening and for some reason jinchul feels like he passed some sort of test. it’s also the evening jinchul finally learns man’s name - sung jinwoo.

- after that it becomes a routine. jinwoo became non hostile and more approachable (as well as being the one to approach) and jinchul uses it as a chance to have a stable source of information about this world.

- (also because I’m a weak dumbass) jinwoo actually remembering when jinchul’s birthday is (even if he mentioned it only once in passing) at night of said birthday jinwoo ungracefully (even if he wanted it to be graceful) falls through jinchul’s window waking him up. jinwoo snatches barely awake jinchul to his palace to celebrate. jinchul is grateful and but also tired and sleepy so it’s mostly a nice late dinner, a present (magically enhanced ring) and a sleepy good night kiss. jinwoo is so shook he just touches his cheek and awkwardly leaves to sleep in a guest room since jinchul fell asleep in his room. once he’s in bed realization crushes down on him. apparently the most fearsome shadow monarch is deeply in love with a destined one to supposedly murder him. jinwoo’s own plan backfired spectacularly.

- jinwoo’s plan: snatch destined one into their world before church can summon him - let him live here for some time and observe him - approach him with malicious intent to see his reaction - if attacks then murder, if not then make him attached - make destined one attached and be in good relationship to keep a close eye on him so he can strike first in case of murder intent - accidentally become the one attached and fall in love with destined one - wait what???

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hello, I see the asks are open! Here is some of this cake I got after killing a slime in the skull cavern: 🍰 just ignore the purple slime on it, I'm sure it's fine. lol. Definitely not a bribe. Anyway.

I made a character recently who adopted a child. Could I ask for some headcannons for how the characters react to the farmer tearing up after their adopted child casually calls them dad/mom for the first time.

For context, their adoption was from before they moved to stardew valley but is still pretty recent and the child has a few abandonment issues so it's a pretty big deal. If it's ok, could I ask for the expanded characters as well?

*Chewing cake* Oh, I thought that purple thing was plum jam. Hmm... *Still chewing the cake* Delicious 😋 Thank you! So, about the question...

I'm not sure, dear anon, exactly which characters you meant, so I did the bachelors/ettes, also added the ones from SVE as well. Thanks for the question! Enjoy!

Hedcanons is written on a situation where the characters know for the situation of the Farmer and their child, that they had adopted the kid before coming to the Valley, and that the child had a sense of abandonment.

SDV/SVE bachelors:

Shane understands more than anyone how much a tsunami of emotions can knock you down at times like this. The day he put Jas to bed and she sleepily called him "Dad" he'll never forget. The girl had already forgotten it, but Shane remembered it forever.

A feeling of abandonment... When Alex's abusive father left him alone with his mother, and later she passed away... It took athlete a long time to shake off the feeling of being unwanted. It's a blessing that he still has his grandparents, and that this child has a loving parent, Farmer.

If you see a little river coming out of nowhere near your feet, just know it's all Elliott's tears. The writer was so touched by the event, its like as if it was his own child calling him father. Elliott doesn't want to get involved right now, but he will congratulate Farmer later.

Sebastian, without noticing it himself, smiled broadly as the crying Farmer hugged their adopted child. Even though he doesn't fully realize how important this is to Farmer, he's genuinely happy for them.

Sam, who in the absence of his father has become not only Vincent's best big brother but now part father figure, truly understands Farmer, even if their situations are a bit different. Every child should have a family and Sammy is glad that this kid have the Farmer in their life.

Humanity is capable of incredible cruelty, but also great compassion and kindness. And Harvey's glasses get a little wet when he witnesses true kindness. He can't put into words how happy he is for this kid and how proud he is of Farmer.

Victor would definitely need a whole box of tissues, maybe two. The fact that the Farmer's foster child could finally feel like a member of the family touched Victor so much that he cried quietly.

The sight of a crying Farmer hugging their kid makes Magnus both smile and feel unbearably sad at the same time. What it's like when a child calls you dad, alas, Magnus will probably never know.

Lance's heart filled with joy when abandoned children found a family again. The adventurer, however, took it upon himself to scold the Farmer if they risked their lives for no good reason, where a child might be left without a family again.

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

Penny had to cover her face with her hands, for her face was already a little swollen and red from the endless flow of tears. How happy Penny is for them! The girl wishes all the best for this family.

No child should ever feel abandoned, and Leah is very proud of Farmer that even though they were young, they were able to be a great parent to a child. It's not something everyone can do.

As much as Abigail tried to hide her tears, she failed. And you know what? She doesn't care! Even a man with a stone for a heart would shed a tear. The little one deserves a home and a loving family. Hell yeah, Farmer, good job!

Oh, how happy Emily is for them, how happy she is! Happy people and acts of kindness will always overwhelm her with positive emotions. Especially after all the troubles the kid has been through, she is glad child found people who love and care for them.

"Awww" Maru couldn't help gasp in tenderness, and can you blame her when her friend and their child are so happy? She would congratulate Farmer later, she didn't want to distract them right now.

As Haley was about to take a picture of the happy family to give to them later, she stopped herself at the last moment. It seemed to her that it was too personal to take a picture without asking. So Haley would only observe this beautiful scene. Ugh, her tears made her mascara run....

Sophia is about to cry herself to tears. Such a touching moment, she just can't hold back her tears at the sight of her crying friend and how much a child's words mean to Farmer.

Coming out of Jojamart for a break, Claire happened to witness this moment when she saw Farmer standing in the park in the spot where the cashier usually rested. They were crying and cuddling their child. She was very happy for both of them, and decided to rest elsewhere, not wanting to disturb the parent and their kid.

The happy child and their wonderful parent are sure to be the first gossip Olivia tells her friends. Running a farm and giving a family to an adopted kid is a lot of work and a lot of responsibility, and the woman is genuinely happy for the child and proud of Farmer.

[radioactivereads]

bros cuddles (hlvrai)

summary: the science team is Tired and they Cuddle . thats it . lol

a/n: im a tommy kin and i was having a hard time sleeping so i wrote this a few months ago . its all platonic. also bubby is hard to write

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The dripping sound of the pipes was pounding in his head. Every noise felt elevated to the highest degree. Tommy stared at the ceiling, sitting against the wall of the Black Mesa floor, the chill of it feeling like it sunk into his bones. Around him the rest of the crew slept.

 In his brain’s constant quest to identify patterns around him, the science team's sleeping habits were now familiar.

Gordon always slept curled up on his side, tense in his sleep. Tommy had hoped his dreams would allow him an escape from how on edge he always seemed to be, but after noticing that he wasn’t so sure. 

Dr. Coomer and Dr. Bubby often stuck close together, and they were no different now. Coomer liked to sleep on his back, even if it did make him snore, which Bubby complained about, but he also liked to prop his head up on Coomer and lie next to him, resting his head on Coomer’s stomach and muttering in his sleep.

Tommy wasn’t quite familiar with Benrey’s sleep patterns, only catching them napping in the middle of other conversations, or once when he woke up and they were still asleep. They seemed to sleep wherever was most convenient, which was often just wherever he was when they got tired.

However, none of these patterns soothed him in this moment. He found himself struggling to sleep more and more. The sounds of all the weapons echoed in his mind. Each day he was dealing with much louder sounds than what he’d become accustomed to.

He wished Sunkist were here, if only for the selfish reason he wanted to hug her. Her soft fur always helped him fall asleep, and she’d often curl up next to him or by his bed, guarding him from threats, real or imaginary.

But it would be dangerous for Sunkist to be here. Despite her immortality, Tommy always worried that the exact moment she got hurt would be when she suddenly would stop being immortal, or maybe she’d forget she was immortal and maybe that would make her not be anymore.

His dad was nearby, he knew that. He’d been watching more closely these days. Whether that was because of Tommy, Gordon, the ‘incident’, or maybe a mix of all of them, he couldn’t be sure.

He- again selfishly- hoped it was because of him, though he knew deep down that was probably not the case. 

His feelings about his father, the ‘Gman’ were complicated at best. They’re his dad, and he loved them, sure, but the recent reappearance after many years of absence was a big thing to get used to.

His father was busy, yes, but Tommy had always hoped they’d have more time for him someday.

But they never did, and Tommy had stopped hoping.

Tommy didn’t exactly want his fathers “comfort” at the moment. His dad was not very good with emotions like comfort, and Tommy knew it’d likely make things worse.

Tommy was only startled out of his thoughts when someone snapped their fingers in front of him. He scrambled back quickly, but realized it was only Bubby, who was squatting in front of him.

“Jeez loueez no need to be so jumpy!” Bubby scowled, but Tommy had learnt he often did that, and it was not indicative of his mood.

“Sorry…” Tommy muttered. His gaze flicked to Dr Coomer, who was still lying on his back, pawing at the air in his sleep and muttering something about a championship and some sort of gaming console.

Tommy wondered what he was dreaming about before turning back to Bubby.

“You look terrible kid, you should sleep”

Bubby was quite blunt.

Tommy bit back a retort, knowing Bubby was much better at that than him, and it wouldn’t be very smart to start that kind of fight.

“…I can’t sleep” Tommy complained “it’s too much- I-it’s way too loud in here. Even if- even when it’s quiet”

Bubby sat, thinking seemingly

“I usually use Coomer as a pillow” he began, Tommy didn’t inform him he already knew this information

 “but when I focus on his snoring it helps me drown out the sound of anything else”

“But how do you- how are you sure you’re gonna be safe all night then? If nobody’s keeping watch over you”

Bubby waved a hand

“You all are very loudl. If something happens I’m sure I’ll wake up to Gordon yelling his head off”

“…I guess so…” Tommy still didn’t feel convinced.

“Why don’t we try to find a noise that you can focus on?” Bubby offered. Tommy sighed but nodded

“Yea… Usually I have Sunkist a-and she helps me feel safer…” Tommy hugged his knees, and Bubby was lost in thought.

“...Say, you like Wikipedia right?” “The- The free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit?” Tommy looked up hopefully

Bubby grinned. It wasn’t like how people were supposed to grin, Tommy thought. It was more like a chimp bearing its teeth, but he’d learned that was just how he smiled.

Bubby walked over and nudged Coomer with his foot. Coomer muttered about gloves and Bubby rolled his eyes (Or, Tommy assumed he did. He couldn’t quite see behind his glasses.)

Bubby picked up Coomer and carried him over, dropping him on the ground. Coomer jolted and yelled something about ropes, but Bubby tapped him and he calmed down.

“Oh, Hello Dr. Bubb-” “Shut it! That one’s still sleeping” He jabbed a thumb towards Gordon, who stirred a bit.

Coomer’s voice was quieter, but not like a whisper, more like someone had used a remote to turn the volume down.

“Coomer, recite the boy a wikipedia article!” “Wikipedia, The Free Online Encyclopedi-?” “Yes, yes that!!”

Tommy tried to get comfortable on the floor, but it wasn’t working very well. Coomer lied back down, resting against the wall, and Bubby lied down next to him, resting his head on Coomer’s side.

Coomer noticed Tommy’s struggles and kindly patted the spot next to him, offering Tommy to share the space. Tommy was hesitant, he wasn’t very used to any sort of physical contact. He hadn’t had many friends, let alone ones who wanted to be affectionate with him. 

He hated to admit it, but he still flinched whenever Gordon put a hand on his shoulder.

Coomer was the exact opposite however, constantly poking, hugging, and messing with other people, so Tommy suspected it was very normal for him.

Awkwardly, Tommy scooted closer, resting his head on his side, and Coomer put an arm over him. It was very comforting, he had to admit.

“A Chair Is A Piece Of Furniture With A Raised Surface-” Coomer began reciting, and Tommy felt himself relax. 

It reminded him of his dad. Gman would recite OSHA guidelines, rules, and encyclopedias to get him to sleep, whether because he thought it would bore Tommy into tiredness or because he genuinely thought it was interesting was beyond him, but Tommy had grown a liking for them regardless.

As he listened to Coomer ramble on, his mind wandered.

His dad was nearby, and he was safe. He shouldn’t worry about that. Even if it wasn’t as direct as Sunkist’s guarding, Tommy doubted his dad would let him get hurt.

But he didn’t just have to worry about himself anymore. He willed his tired eyes- which he hadn’t realized had closed- open, and his gaze tiredly flicked to Gordon, who was still curled up. He looked to Coomer, who was still reciting the entire page, reading out each resource link letter by letter.

“Hey Dr Coomer?”

“Yes, Tommy?”

“...Can we uhm- Can Mr. Freeman join us? He’s- he looks… cold” 

Coomer’s eyes squinted in a strange sort of smile. “The More The Merrier!”

Tommy stood and walked over to Gordon,  and very gently reached down, tucking his arms under Gordon’s, and lifted him up, careful to not wake him. Gordon stirred a few times, but ultimately Tommy was successful. 

He sat down, moving Gordon to be close to the pile. Tommy curled up by Dr. Coomer again. Bubby was already asleep, and contrary to what he said, he was the one snoring it seemed. Tommy hadn’t noticed that before.

Coomer continued reading out the link he was on, while Tommy’s eyes slowly closed. The dripping of the pipes was merely a background sound now, and easily filtered out. And though he felt the cold of the room threatening to chill him, he felt so warm next to his friends.

This was nice. Tommy appreciated the group's company, of course, but as of late it’d felt… Better than before. Tommy realized in this moment that they were his friends. They cared about him, and they’d help him.

Tommy smiled tiredly, curled up by Dr Coomer and Mr. Freeman.

The cold had passed, and only warmth remained.

He hoped it would last a long time.

[aemiron-main]

Some ST3 Opinions & Thoughts On ST3’s Use of Foreshadowing

Something that I really liked about S3 was the absence of Brenner & how the lab overall is less present, but those lab-created horrors are even more grotesque and in-your-face and present, alongside the lab foreshadowing/parallels (such as what I talked about here regarding the S3 hospital vs 1979 lab parallels).

Like, I don’t mean this in a “Brenner is BAD and i HATE HIM so im GLAD he wasnt in S3 way,” i mean it in a “even when Brenner is nowhere to be found, even when the lab is ‘shut down’ and dormant, the impacts of what the lab has done continue to ramp up,” way.

IMO, the absence of the lab and of Brenner (and therefore the absence of a single person/entity to easily pin the blame onto) does a great job at demonstrating the way that unethical science becomes a monster of its own & how even shutting down the lab & keeping Brenner at bay wasn’t enough to stop everything that’s happening.

I think it’s a great way to emphasize the way that the consequences of the lab’s experiments continue to echo and continue to impact people.

And jumping back to what I talked about in the beginning regarding the ST3 vs ST4 parallels and foreshadowing, I actually think that it’s partially that use of foreshadowing that makes it feel different/“”””out of place”””” compared to other seasons (although i do think that ST3 often being a contrast to prior seasons is exactly why it fits in place because S1 and S2’s vibes wouldnt be as noticeable/memorable if Every Season Was Like That & ST3 gives something to contrast ST1 and ST2 with), and the reason why I think that use of foreshadowing makes it feel different is because while EVERY season of ST has tons of foreshadowing, ST2 also has tons of direct connections to ST1 (even connections as subtle as spending a lot of shots in the Byers house, specifically in that hallway which was key to Will’s vanishing in S1), whereas while ST3 ABSOLUTELY has connections to previous seasons, we’re now moving into new locations etc etc, so those connections arent as constant as they were in S2. And so, as a result, the season becomes more future and foreshadowing-focused, but we dont recognize that when we watch S3 initially/for the first tike because we havent seen S4 yet.

Like, it’s very easy now to go back and see the absolutely insane number of highly specific parallels to S4 that exist in S3, but without the context of S4, a lot of those S3 scenes almost feel “useless”/emptier than they should.

And ST3 has so much time imagery and specifically “future” references that really just hammer home ST3’s use of foreshadowing/its focus on foreshadowing.

So, my main point here is that I think that while its totally fair to have a favourite season/prefer diff vibes/this isnt a criticism of that, I also think that approaching every single season of ST as if they’re entirely self-contained is where criticism of ST (and specifically S3) tends to be less effective- because S3 really is much, much better with the context of S4, like with the context of S4, S3 is absolutely rich with intricate foreshadowing (you can even foreshadow very specific things and names things from the S4 newspapers back in S3, such as what I talked about in this post), but that context and those intricacies are lost when you isolate every season and try to look at each season as a standalone story.

The Creel foreshadowing alone in S3 is absolutely constant- Heather Holloway is literally IN the Creel tub when she’s in the void!! But you’d have no way of knowing that on your first S3 watch through/without the context of S4.

I actually think it’s really neat that ST3, on the surface, is a very flashy and “obvious” and seemingly “surface level,” season, but then, when you dig deeper with the context of S4, it’s actually a season with an absolute ton of depth and foreshadowing and intricate connections.

[aropride]

speaking of psychosis- i wasn't speaking of it here but i was speaking of it- i've been trying to figure out what was up with the great psychotic episode of freshman year, because i had assumed it was a trauma-induced psychosis type of deal, but it occurred to me that i was definitely having sort of thought broadcasting types of beliefs, probably some other stuff but i can't remember atm and don't feel like digging thru my old vent account lol. (ramble continues under the cut this got VERY long)

(line with text so tumblr doesn't eat the image. idk if it still does that but better safe than sorry)

(the months with "2" are split into first and second half of the month bc it was relevant, couldnt figure out how else to signify that succinctly)

i cut out the labels of each belief for safety + in case that's triggering to ppl but each row is a different belief i had that in retrospect was probably some sort of delusion? top two are very similar but different enough i tracked them differently. bottom two might have just been anxiety+ptsd but i do really think they're connected to this

it was definitely at its worst mid nov-end of jan, but started in september and didn't really let up til like june

anyway like i said i had assumed it was a combination of trauma and being off my meds and isolation that made the perfect situation for me to go fucking crazy, but i hadn't really thought about it that hard . but now that i Am thinking about it, again, i was definitely having these kinds of beliefs before The Trauma

and in my past self's defense. one thing about my thought broadcasting beliefs specifically was that i was straight up being essentially cyberstalked at the time and didn't know, so i was completely right that certain people knew more about me than i had told them, but i was wrong about the reason why

anyway i was reading up on schizospec disorders for class (kind of. also just for fun) -- also important context schizophrenia does run in my family i think on both sides? but my parents are weird about talking about it. so that's part of this also.

but i noticed that of the three labels i was looking at- brief psychotic disorder, schizophreniform, and schizophrenia- (i didn't look into schizoaffective bc i dont think i have many bipolar symptoms, and didn't look into stpd bc i don't think it counts as a personality disorder if it lasts like 10 months lol, and delusional disorder because i do think i had some negative*&cognitive symptoms (*psych term meaning absence of things present in nonschizospec people, not literally just bad symptoms lol)-- though to be fair, that may have just been a combination of situational aspects & autism?)-- either way, it's not on this beautiful and awesome diagram in mspaint i made so i could illustrate the timeline aspect of the diagnostic criteria:

bc a diagnosis of brief psychotic disorder requires symptoms to only last a month, and schizophreniform for 1-6 months, whereas schizophrenia is lifelong .

basically the problem is- while the worst part of my psychotic(?) symptoms lasted ~4months, they were definitely there in some form for around 10 months, which is too long for a diagnosis of schizophreniform, but i don't feel comfortable just, assuming it's schizophrenia lol, especially when most of the symptoms i experienced dont affect my life anymore? it does make me nervous though that this happened right around the typical age of onset.

this might just be a problem with diagnoses being too specific to cover the entire spectrum of human experience, and i might just be outside of any area where a specific label could be applied . also, i know it's been written about but not become an actual diagnostic label- but there are places where ocd and psychosis can over lap, and schizo-obsessive disorder has been suggested as a diagnostic label, but not officially used anywhere afaik..

i think my main concern at this point is just, whether or not i should be concerned about it coming back. like, is it possible to be in various stages of active psychosis(?? it still feels very strange to refer to it that way but i guess that's what it was, so) for ~4-10 months, and then just be chilling after. or should i be worried. was this a one-time thing starting because i was off my meds and being worsened by isolation and trauma or is there a possibility of this happening again. and i think that's a question that can't be answered with any certainty, probably

[adriansvetozaroff]

When it comes to non-human characters, I always start thinking about biology. So, I decided to write a little about Duros evolution, biology, and culture (speculation and headcanons based on official canon and legend facts) and make an illustration in the spirit of the encyclopedias from my childhood.

On the left you can see the pristine, still green and covered with deep clean oceans planet Duro, as it was at the dawn of sentient life. The reptiloid, which could have been the ancestor of modern Duros, has the external features of a lizard and a frog, but is warm-blooded. It is able to stand on its hind legs and quickly run short distances, has a fairly massive tail for balance. Its skin is tough but scaleless, and it sheds its skin like lizards. Its coloring provides good camouflage, and its large eyes, located on the sides of its head, provide a very wide field of vision. The muzzle is not elongated, since there is no nasal cavity. The vomeronasal organs, responsible for smell, are located under the eyes in the cavity of the cheekbones and open into the soft palate. Accordingly, these reptiles must stick out their tongue and then touch it to the palate if they want to sniff something carefully.

In my opinion, there are a number of signs indicating that the Duros ancestors were more prey than predators, and at the same time they themselves could have developed omnivory - this is the most advantageous strategy for survival. Small fangs, present in some individuals, do not contradict this at all - this can be seen in the example of Earth primates, even completely herbivorous ones. What you should pay attention to: large eyes with horizontal pupils (in the series, you can also notice that the eyes of the Neimoidians can even rotate so that the pupils remain parallel to the horizon). Such eyes are typical for animals for whom it is important to notice the approach of a predator in time. Another distinctive feature is a predominantly thin build and reduction of toes (there are certainly hints at this in the design of the Neimoidians) - this is typical for animals that have developed the ability to run fast. This, in turn, requires warm-bloodedness, the presence of a bird-type heart and huge lungs. I am sure that Duros have all of this, at least a hint of large lungs can be seen in the description of the physiology of Neimoidians, who have a very noticeable rapid breathing in a stressful situation (in addition, large lungs allow both species to speak and breathe without problems in the absence of a nose). Another sign is oily sweat, which, if an individual feels threatened, is secreted more abundantly and acquires a sharp, repulsive smell. This is a strategy clearly necessary for someone who could become prey. Its presence has become canon for Duros relatively recently, but initially something like this was mentioned for Neimoidians as well. The latter also react to stress or illness by turning their skin pale, up to pink, and I associate this with their ability to see in the infrared spectrum. This fact suggests that other members of the Duro fauna can also see thermal radiation, which would explain the reflex of draining blood from the skin when stressed or ill - this lowers the external body temperature and makes it easier to hide. I believe that the Duros also have this reflex, which originally arose in their ancestors, but the structure of their skin makes it less noticeable.

The next stage of evolution can be conditionally called Duros habilis; these reptiloids had a much more developed brain and had already mastered tools. Their binocular vision became clearer, and the structure of the pelvis changed to provide more perfect bipedality. Since childhood, I remembered the drawings of hypothetical reptiloids from books about dinosaurs, and now I believe that this is the evolutionary path that the Duro reptiles could have taken, so this evolutionary link has a non-random similarity with the dinosauroid. It may seem that it has less muscle mass, but this is actually a change in the ratio of muscle fibers, slightly reducing strength, but increasing endurance.

An upright individual, the closest ancestor of modern Duros, still has rudiments of claws and first and fourth toes, as well as a small tail. The appearance of claws in Duros and Neimoidians is an atavism, while the tail is present in larval stage and disappears during development due to autolysis (in my opinion, the grubs of both species resemble tadpoles adapted to a terrestrial lifestyle, that is, they initially have lungs and durable skin; while Duros have small limbs, the position of which changes as they turn into an adult, Neimoidians are born without limbs, only with a mobile muscular tail). This species could live in nomadic groups, mainly engaged in gathering and avoiding dangerous predatory fauna. Their brains increased significantly, since they needed good memory and orientation in space, they also made various, often multifunctional tools. The individual depicted here holds a spear, which could be used for defense or hunting small animals, as well as for cutting plants and harvesting fruit, or digging. The spear, like the breastplate of this so called Duros erectus, is made from fragments of the chitinous carapace of a giant beetle, and echoes of its use can still be seen thousands years later in the design of clothing (collars and pectorals) or weapons (Neimoidian vibro mace). The clothing of this upright Duros is made from the skin of some other reptile. Cloaks and capes also became traditional clothing early on, as it was important for a species to cover its back in order to avoid being wounded by predators.

The second image shows the planet Duro already damaged by industrialization; and here you can see a noble Duros from the early era of space expansion. The signs of his status are jewelry, especially rings (they were apparently a status symbol for the monarch, too, judging by the decorated hand of the lost king of Duro). While green was initially the most common skin color among Duros, in civilized society there was no vital need for protective coloring, and blue shades were increasingly no longer a rarity - perhaps, on the contrary, they began to be found more attractive due to their unusualness. Modern Duros differ from their closest ancestors in their smoother, longer face and, of course, in brain volume, as well as in the complete absence of a tail in adulthood. Otherwise, the body type remained slim and athletic (and traditional Duros dances are designed to demonstrate the agility and endurance that were so necessary for the survival of their ancestors - they are very energetic, include many jumps and other acrobatic elements). The modern species, apparently, retained the mentality of their ancestors - caution, avoidance of danger, easy-going and a tendency to escape from bad conditions. Therefore, most of them began to leave the polluted planet, and excellent memory, spatial thinking and the ability to quickly navigate and react, laid down genetically, made many Duros gifted navigators and pilots. Their people can also boast a large number of explorers and discoverers.

The colonization of various worlds by the Duros led to the emergence of new species, but so far we only know about one of them - the Neimoidians. I left a question mark where I still hope to see other branches of evolution in the future (of course, I can theorize that the Kyuzo and the Roonans also descended from the Duros, but it is not a fact that this will be confirmed).

It could be said that evolution in a galaxy far, far away happens at an unrealistically fast rate, in a time frame that is insufficient for mutations to accumulate and for speciation to occur. In this regard, the emergence of the Neimoidians is a surprisingly realistic story - if you look at their upbringing system, they are, in fact, the result of selection, deliberately organized intraspecific selection. Perhaps Neimoidia was an unsuccessful planet for terraforming, and its colonizers chose a strategy of changing themselves in order to survive. The external differences between the two species are not so expressive. Neimoidians look more robust, which may be a consequence of the high gravity, and their large eyes provide better vision, necessary in the foggy atmosphere, they have a slightly different shape of teeth (but not their number) - the enlargement of the molars is associated with a large amount of mushrooms in their diet. Also, I believe their lungs have become even more capacious, and the fact that their intense breathing under stress is noticeable despite the multi-layered clothing is explained by this, and not only by the fact that they breathe like lizards, using intercostal muscles rather than the diaphragm. I don't know about Neimoidia, but Cato Neimoidia should definitely have thin air. The main difference between the two species, which allows us to consider them not just two races, is in reproduction and development. The system of intraspecific selection has also changed the mentality of the Neimoidians, for whom it is still important to avoid troubles, but they prefer not to risk searching for better living conditions, but to create them on the spot. Although their priority baceme a sedentary, stable and measured way of life, they inherit those qualities of their ancestors that make many of them quite outstanding captains of spaceships. Their people are more inclined to follow traditions and take pride in their culture, and also believe that they do not repeat the mistakes of the Duros in relation to their worlds. The noble Neimoidian depicted in the right against the background of his home planet has a belt with an image of a sacred beetle. In the formation of the Neimoidian civilization, as once for the civilization of the Duros, giant semi-sentient beetles play a significant role, performing important work in the sphere of food production.

In the upper right corner is a modern Duros in front of an orbital city, one of twenty located around his home planet, now almost uninhabitable. You can see that over the course of several thousand years, some changes have taken place - the head has become even larger, especially the braincase, and the face has become flatter. Blue coloration has continued to become widespread and acquire quite bright shades that could not originally appear in nature. In my opinion, the Duros, who have a wide variety of shades of blue, lilac and turquoise skin, are colored structurally, like Earth reptiles and birds. The Neimoidians, on the other hand, lack blue color completely, which can be easily explained by the different structure of their skin. Modern Duros are not too concerned with tradition and often dress practically, but jewelry in the form of rings remains quite popular.

Full view, please.

[joshman-theandroid]

rest easy, fight easy

An introspective; the revolution from Josh's point of view.

word count: 1,296

[I wrote this in less than an hour i'm so tired. After noticing a trend where fics set in the pascifist rev usually end with North "seeing the truth about peace and letting go of her evil ways" or... something similar, I thought to do the same with Josh and the violent rev.

Clearly, a few things are different from canon. Like the fact that Josh is still alive post violent revolution, as he should be.]

Josh has always avoided human attention. He's spent the last few years running from it and dreading it. From his personal experience, it never brings anything good. With their attention comes the possibility of anger and violence. With their attention also comes the possibility of dismissal and being treated like nothing more than an object. Josh isn't sure yet which is worse yet; hatred or indifference.

When he'd found Jericho, it had taken a while to get used to the absence of human presence. The sanctuary Jericho offered had surprised him too; he's not used to things working out in his favor like that. And as the years pass on, Josh holds the peace he's discovered in a special place in his heart.

So when Markus arrives, Josh sees him as some sort of omen; an indicator of worse to come. His very presence threatens the steady life Josh has carved for himself. That's why he is uneasy the first time they meet. There's an ansty look in his eye Josh has mostly seen in North and a few of the newer androids around. It wouldn't have been enough cause for worry; afterall the new ones always arrived with hope in their hearts but this one kept speaking about vague uncertainties like freedom and finally being alive.

He's too hopeful—not like the flitting hope one feels on a quiet day but a hope that burns cities if it should ever fail. His type of hope is dangerous.

Unsurprisingly, North takes an instant liking to the new android. After the successful mission to recover spare parts, she stands taller, with more purpose. It reminds him of how she'd been when she'd first arrived; energy charged and her fingers itching for a change she could create before the helplessness had set in. Simon remains the same sturdy, unchanging figure he's always been but Josh can see he trusts Markus more than he's ever trusted anyone else. He cares for him in that silent way of his.

Josh starts to wonder if the problem is him. Is there something they can all see that he can't? He decides then to give Markus a chance to prove himself—and he does. The mission at Stratford goes better than Josh had expected but they have to leave Simon behind. A part of Josh feels guilty; if Simon is captured they'll be discovered. But he knows his guilt would be stronger if he'd let Simon be killed, even if he wasn't the one behind the trigger.

Beyond the guilt, Josh starts to get a taste of the future Markus envisions and he allows himself a moment to want it too. He imagines a world with androids living alongside humans. He imagines a world where android intelligence is accepted as a legitimate form of life. Not necessarily equal, but unique in its own right. He imagines until he starts to think that maybe attracting human attention isn't so bad.

And as the revolution furthers itself and this dream is closer to being a reality, Josh starts to trust Markus more.

But all that changes when Jericho goes down. To Josh, this is proof that he was right all along. They had spoken up about what they wanted and they'd gotten attacked in return.

Angered and hurt, Markus decides he has had enough. He gathers them together——the oddly matched team of four that have become Jericho's co-leaders and he seeks their counsel. Josh can sense that Markus isn't really asking for their advice; he wants to know if they're in agreement. He plans to wage a war and needs to know if they're on his side. North definitely is and while Simon is mildly wary, he isn't against the idea either.

Josh disagrees with them all, firmly stating that he's sure they humans will listen if they choose non-confrontation and once again, he feels like the outsider, the one with the problem. Maybe he just doesn't care enough for the well-being of the other androids. Their kind are being dismantled and deactivated all across the country and here he is, worried about his own moralities and letting fear grip him. He admits to himself that he doubts the humans will actually listen or that if they do it would be too late.

But the very thought of taking lives, of having blood on his hands makes his mouth sour. He's seen what violence can do and he refuses to become that creature; seeking a taste of blood for nothing more than selfish satisfaction.

But he's outnumbered. Not only by the other three but by the greater population of Jericho —— or at least what remains of it from the raid. As Markus announces his plan, Josh can't help but feel like they're headed in the direction of a catastrophe. He wants to scream for everyone to stop.

Stop with the madness, you'll get us all killed.

But he doesn't say anything. For a brief second, Markus glances in his direction and he wonders if he's heard his thoughts.

They gather a few miles away from the last remaining camp that morning. They are bloodied and bone weary from all the fighting. They've lost some of their people but which each new liberated camp, they've gained a hundred more. And each of them are torn between anger, sadness and joy of being freed. Anger wins over eventually, and this anger becomes the fuel to drive them towards the next camp.

Standing on the fringe of the Capitol Park camp, Josh hears North whisper two words and Markus repeat them back to her; "Freedom or death."

Suddenly, he realizes that his definition of freedom is different from the one the other androids seek. He can suddenly see the world North wants; a world far away from the same people who hurt her. She's willing to die for a world where androids can live as androids with no influence from another species.

She seeks freedom from humanity and he seeks freedom from the violence that makes up an aspect of humanity. And neither of them are wrong or somehow worse than the other.

He isn't the problem, he realizes. In fact, none of them are the problem either. They'd all been dealt a bad deal by life the moment they were created and now they seek their freedom differently. And while it's unfortunate that he has to go down a path he doesn't want to, a part of him still hopes that it's possible for androids and humans to live side by side.

This is a fight for the future of a species; it's not selfish satisfaction.

He keeps that thought in his mind throughout to ease the burn of each human life he takes and each android that dies in the battle.

At the end of it all, after all the androids have been freed from the camps and victory is declared, Josh wanders away from the noise and activity. He needs a moment to think.

There's blood on his clothes and face; some of it blue but most of it red. Today he's done something he said he'd never do. He's become the creature he's wanted to be free from and the thought torments him.

He supposes he should be grateful though. The revolution is successful, at least for now. It might not have been in the way he wanted but there are hundreds of androids wandering around Detroit without being told how to live. He should be grateful but instead feels guilt.

Was it worth it? he thinks. After all that, will it make a difference?

Josh doesn't know. He doesn't know. And the not knowing angers him.

He clenches his fists against the overwhelming guilt that threatens to choke him. Tears well up in his eyes and he silently let's them fall.

Detroit is eerily quiet in a way it's never been. It's missing the loud honking noises, chattering of humans and that gentle hum that is an indicator of life. Josh stands in the middle of a street that used to be packed with automated vehicles and pedestrians. Snow falls heavily and somewhere in the distance, the sun rises gently on a new world.

I listened to this song the whole time I was writing

[boyfridged]

What's your opinion on each of the members of the bats? Do you think that they're becoming too saturated and that the new additions serve no purpose in furthering the plotline?

Also, do you think DC should have ended Robin altogether with Jason's death?

to start with the last question first: it's a difficult one, because in a way, you are asking if dc should have ended batman with jason's death. robin is such an inseparable part of the title. barr once said: "i'm convinced robin is a major reason why the batman strip has had such longevity” and he was right. it's impossible to imagine the series to keep going without robin long-term, which is what makes the reasoning behind killing off jason (which was originally supposed to remove robin from the narrative altogether) so imprudent.

on the other hand, i do hate how the re-introduction of the mantle was handled. there definitely should be a longer gap in-between jason and whoever was to be the 3rd robin. it might seem contrary to what i just said about robin’s presence being crucial, but it could work, because there's a sort of presence in absence, a whole set of hauntings that occur anyway, the memory of jason so tangible that it pervaded the continuation even with new characters occupying this space in the narrative. and i have learned to appreciate the shift in mood brought by jason's death (even if i'm still a firm believer he should have simply never been killed off), so it could be interesting to push this notion of gotham becoming darker and bruce never quite recovering even further.

i actually have a duke-centric wip about that-- tldr: bruce does not take tim as a robin, too consumed grief and not willing to take responsibility for another child; steph briefly tries to take the mantle, but bruce fires her even earlier; however, robin remains a symbol of hope, and we are robin still happens. since batman stopped investigating in the daylight and reverted to a status of an urban legend, duke becomes a self-made daylight protector of gotham.

but, as you can notice in that scenario, i presume that without robin bruce would get... sidelined in his own story, in a way. which i don't think would be necessarily a bad move, because i'd love it if dc let such huge changes to happen. but i do acknowledge that it's just not realistic for this medium/franchise. batman has to remain teh centre, and robin has to be there; i'm not sure a mere spectre would be enough in the end.

so hm. my answer is: no, robin should not end with jason's death, but there should be much more struggle with the mantle and its place in the narrative later on...

re: your first question(s), this is not a precise answer either, but i mostly agree. i reckon rn there are two main issues with the bats: 1. there are simply too many of them 2. and whenever dc actually makes an effort to acknowledge them all, they do it by putting them into a nuclear family like dynamics. additionally, they all get flattened down and there’s no exploration of individual relationships between them whatsoever; everyone needs a quip, a niche, which is the opposite of what they should be as a group; their skillset is intended to be strikingly similar.

moreover, i am (embarrassingly) very conservative when it comes to general themes of batman, and i feel like most of the contemporary batfam characters are way too removed from them, hence offering very little contribution to the mythos. because of that it also seems like dc (and fans) are playing with dolls rather than engaging with storytelling or the kind of social/political commentary that used to be much more prominent decades ago... which also, in consequence, means that (as you said), there's no progress in the plot; and i do not even expect anything radical, because this type of storytelling will probably always rely on preserving a certain status quo... but i'm a firm believer so much could be done at least in the domain of jurisprudence, for example- and it will not happen because it's hard to conduct long-term narrative changes when there's a whole crowd you have to accommodate.

also, each of these characters means there’s less narrative space for civilians and (non-villainous) opposition to bruce.

i will not get into detail about each of bats because it would take me forever and i'm not sure how broad your question is (do you mean only characters who work closer with bruce or every character associated with the symbol?) but if you're curious about particular ones, feel free to ask:)