#HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! THIS IS REAL?! YOU AND ME NEED TO SEE THIS

[erwinsvow]

I LOVEEE WIFEY READER i wanna be rafes perfect little housewifey..

girl me!!! me asf!!!!!!!!! this is the most shy reader concept i think she is very content to be a housewife and have lots of kids running around and she kind of drifts off and fantasizes about it a lot..

you often drift away into your own thoughts, something rafe has gotten used to by now. he doesn't need to snap you out of it—infact, he doesn't like to, since he thinks it's better to leave you in your thoughts than worrying about something once he brings you back to the real world.

so watching you now, perched on the chair by his window, your book abandoned on your lap and staring out the window, he doesn't know why he does it.

"kid. kid." you still don't hear him so he gets up, leaving his laptop and papers behind on the desk and getting closer to where you are. the sun coming in through the window feels warm, yet you look perfectly comfortable, perfectly content. rafe puts a hand on your knee and the other on the windowsill, boxing you in.

"what're you thinkin' about, huh?" rafe asks, and you look up at him right away. your breathing picks up when you see how close he is, feeling a little silly for not realizing this entire time.

you stay like that—staring up at him, the vision of the scene you were just daydreaming flooding back. your pretty boyfriend as your pretty husband, a house like tannyhill of your own, all the time with rafe that you could possibly imagine.

"n-nothing," you finally reply, remembering rafe had asked a question.

"nothin'? yeah?" you nod in agreement, not entirely sure what you're agreeing to. your head feels a little fuzzy still, but it doesn't take rafe long. he looks back out the window, in the direction you had been looking. there's a clear view of the neighbor's yard, little kids running around while mom and dad chase them.

rafe's not stupid, but when it comes to matters concerning you, he's something of a genius. two and two come together quickly, the flushed way you look up at him and whatever dream you were picturing coming into his own mind too.

"cute kids, huh?"

you nod again, heartbeat picking up though you're not sure why. yet. rafe leans in, his arms still surrounding you like a trap. everything feels more intense when he's like this.

"i bet ours would be cuter, right?" your lips part in surprise by themselves—staring back and blinking quickly. you nod. "like that, wouldn't you?"

rafe's hand finally leaves the window and joins his other one on your legs, stroking up and down. you turn to look down but can't help looking into his eyes again immediately after.

"i asked you a question."

"yes. yes, um, i-"

"knew you would. a whole bunch of kids and nothin' else to worry about, right?"

you look up, your own eyes melting while you stare at his, wondering when you had stopped telling rafe things, realizing he understood you even without words.

"except you. you and the kids." you don't even realize the words slipped out—still feeling like too much. your cheeks burn, thinking you just said something you shouldn't have.

"good girl. c'mon, on the bed. gotta start with one, right?"

[hotpotatopotat]

Why I don't think Shigaraki or his legacy is over.

I don't normally do canon delves but I am compelled as a Tomura fan to dissect the final battle. This isn't a post on whether it's good or bad, but observations on what's been told.

Shigaraki's crux has always been that he feels like no one can possibly understand what he is trying to accomplish, that his message and suffering is pushed under the rug, and that society is so rotten there's nothing to be done. Deku's goal is to try and understand this.

When Deku breaks through in mha417, Tomura challenges him on this. What would even change if you saw what happened to me? What would you even DO about it? Deku declares to the one person that needs it most: To reach out and give you peace, and "that is why...I am here"

But... When given the chance to go back to a time when he was happy, Tenko chooses not to. "Nah." he says. I think this is often overlooked, but Tomura didn't WANT to leave behind everything he's done.

Tomura says, even if you got rid of my hatred, even if you succeed in "saving me", it doesn't change the fact that I still believe in the future I'm fighting for, to destroy. The villains need a hero, the suffering needs to end, and things need to change.

Hang on to that for a moment. All for One shows up. He mocks him, his dream, his goals, claiming that they weren't real, that they weren't his, that his heart doesn't matter, that none of it does. He's evil.

All for One does kill Tomura here... or at least he would have....

With Deku's final blow, he ignites any remaining embers, Shigaraki, included. They land the final blow to All for One. Without that spark, and without Nana having saved Tomura from fading away, he wouldn't have been able to do this. Tomura would have died before.

Tomura's vestige is still decaying away, and he laments the fact that maybe...he wasn't more than the crying kid Deku said he was. He couldn't do anything. He didn't even destroy Deku's hands. His dreams are over.

Izuku says that he wanted to stop the cycle of grief and suffering. Tomura gives him a soft "hah..." This is such a cathartic moment for them, because I believe that Tomura finally feels understood. He's actually quite relieved.

Strangely, Tomura is soft here. He's not decaying away anymore, he's solid, he's wearing his old shirt. He's NOT the same. He declares how he wants to be remembered, as the one who never stopped fighting to change the world. Izuku says, it's already been...but...

In mha424, Tomura instantly challenges this. With a giant smirk, he tells Deku that he better do his damn best to make sure that things change. It depends on the choices that he continues to make, not the conclusion of one battle.

424 feels like a giant wink wink nudge nudge for the reader. Deku is dissatisfied with not getting that instant gratification of "saving" Tenko, just like after a final battle, he won't get the instant gratification of changing the world. We don't get the gratification either.

But honestly, I really do believe that Deku will carry on Shigaraki's legacy and internalize it just like All Might's.

One final thing... You see his hair change textures. Left to right, It's decaying like in the final form, it's defined and stringy like in his early days, and it's airy and blocked like in his liberation days. This is such guardian angel energy, I swear.

I don't think this is the last we will see of him. And if it is, at least physically the last we see of him, I'm happy Deku will carry on what was truly in Tomura's heart.

[revealed-in-a-delusion]

One of Us

Part Two

Part one Synopsis: when you were saved from a curse a few years ago, you spent a night with your hero and ended up having your baby son, Yasu. You knew the day would come, but when your son fought a curse that had almost killed you all by himself, you kind of had to face the consequences of your prolonged silnce. One of the consequences happened to be Satoru 'I Had No Clue I Had A Son' Gojo. Tags: Satoru Gojo x f!reader, reader is a mom of Gojo's son, Yasu is a little meanie sometimes, Yasu being mama's boy all the way, still possible angst, mentions of violence, foul language here and there. Notes: guys is it obvious I started writing this because I created Yasu in my head and decided to give him a tumblr community as moms? because I did 🫵🏻😔 also this part has Yasu’s pov in it but it’s just 60% ‘I love my mama’ and 40% yapping ‘cause he takes a lot from the father he doesn’t even know yet

It’s not that he didn’t like unfamiliar places, no, he enjoyed going on little adventures, visiting cities and even countries a couple of times — he loved that one time you took him to Disneyland on his fifth birthday so much he still had all these Elsa (“we look alike”) and Mulan (“she’s a badass like you, ma”; “Yasu!”) merch all over his room.

It’s just this time it was all new, and you were not here with him.

He tapped his shoes in the air as he was sitting on top of the neatly made hospital bed; he didn’t really need any check-ups. Besides the first one they gave him when he was just spotted, covered in dirt, blood and sweat.

…okay, well, maybe he needed help with a little bruise covered with, uh, eyes, but it went away by itself really, and he wanted to finally see his mom, not spend time with doctors and weird teens hanging around like he was some ugly thing himself. He just killed one, wasn’t it enough proof he didn’t need any more grownups’ assistance?

A knock on the door distracted him from rush of rather angry kid’s thoughts. He looked up and saw a young woman slowly coming inside, giving him some time and space to brace himself, but no real option to reject her company. She looked tired, strict and friendly at the same time, and the boy frowned, straightening up. He was afraid of no strict doctor ladies.

“How are you feeling, [Last Name]?” she put a notebook on the light-grey nightstand along with some clipboard. The papers on it seemed important, but adults made all the papers seem important. It could be a lie today, but the woman didn’t look like she would carry around anything useless.

“I’m fine, so can I finally go to my mom?” oh, he was definitely not going to hide his frustration. He was not going to hide his stare either. “If I’m alright and you’re a doctor, shouldn’t you be with my mom? She needs help while you just waste your precious ‘doctor time’ here when I’m obviously good on my own.”

“Says the boy calling for his mom as soon as someone walks in,” since he was trying to act like an adult, neither the woman was going to baby him. She didn’t smirk, but her dark brown eyes certainly did.

He frowned and averted his gaze, now blankly staring at his shoes, still tapping them with the melody only he was familiar with.

She sighed condescendingly and walked towards the bed, surprising him with how naturally she squatted right in front, now looking up.

“My name is Shoko Ieiri,” her appearance was making her look tough, but she grabbed the end of his shoe with such gentleness, such unexpected softness and care — it made him ease his frown. “You can call me Shoko.”

“Why would I do that?” he immediately argued. Sparks of humorous laughter in her eyes became clearer as she noticed he couldn’t help it. His words preceded his thoughts, powered by the way he felt was right. “You’re like five times my age.”

“Oh, gimme a break, boy. I’m not that old,” she shook her head, huffing, and stood up, turning back to the nightstand with all her papers on it.

He looked at her for a moment, considering.

“Yasu,” he almost whispered, but as she turned around, he straightened his shoulders yet again, repeating it louder even though he didn’t need to. “My name is Yasu [Last Name]. And you can call me Yasu, too.”

“Okay, Yasu,” she finally smiled with her lips, not only eyes this time, taking clipboard in one hand and a neat pen in the other. “Glad to make your acquaintance.”

He looked at her carefully, fully taking in her appearance. She felt like a few couple of eyes were watching her at the same time.

Very familiar feeling.

“Mm,” he finally shrugged. “Me too, I guess. And you don’t look like a paediatrician,” he struggled a bit with the big word, but they both pretended it didn’t happen.

“That’s because I’m not one,” Shoko stated simply. “I’m here with you not because you’re a kid, Yasu. I’m quite a special doctor.”

“How modest,” he smirked.

Yeah, Shoko thought, as expected. Never easy with these ones.

“So, Yasu, have you ever seen curses before?” as much as she weirdly enjoyed this kid’s company, she'd got work to be done, so she went straight for it.

“Curses?” He raised an eyebrow, frowning again. He was doing it a lot for his age. “What’s that?” She almost went to write it down on the paper, but eventually he wasn’t done talking. “I only see the ugly things, they are around all the time. They don’t ever touch me or my mom. Well, they didn’t, yesterday was different. It was the ugliest one so far.”

“The ugly things,” Shoko said slowly, “do you see them all the time?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Yasu shrugged like it wasn’t really a big deal. It was though, and since you were not there, he let it slide off his tongue. “Recently they… I was noticing them all over the world, but they started hanging out closer to our house a lot.”

“There were more of them near your home?” Shoko subtly wrote something down.

“Don’t tell mama,” he suddenly blurted out, cautious of Shoko all over again. “She doesn’t need to know.”

“Why? Feeling guilty?” she smirked with her eyes again, and Yasu couldn’t help but notice how good she was expressing her thoughts with just her eyes. Cool.

“Don’t want her to worry. She already worries a lot because of me,” before Shoko even had a chance to ask him to elaborate, he did it himself. “I also scare off her dates.”

Shoko tried really hard not to chuckle loudly. Luckily, she succeeded. “Oh? You scare off other men? Geez, maybe I need a son after all.”

Yasu didn’t get the implied joke, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “Not on purpose. Well, most of the times— anyways, they just often think I’m spooky.”

For some reason, this time Shoko didn’t ask him to specify. Yasu watched her writing quietly, now growing more curious about her. She’s cool, he thought. Not as cool as mama, though.

“Tell me about your family, Yasu. Anything you’d like to share,” she finally spoke again, looking up and tapping her pen on the clipboard.

And she didn’t need to ask twice for this one.

“Oh, my mom is the best. She’s my closest friend, and she’s lovely, and funny, and she’s the prettiest, and I love when I make her smile — and she smiles to me a lot,” it sounded almost like he was bragging. He probably was. “She works a lot, partly because I like sweets and she can never say ‘no’ to me, but once I’m old enough I’ll be the one making all the money for her. Oh, don’t tell her I know she can’t say ‘no’. Although she’s very smart and already knows that, I think? Anyways— when she doesn’t work, because her boss is actually a nice man and gives her days off from time to time, she spends her time with me and we do something fun. Or homework, but that’s not as fun. Not the hardest part though, school is the easy stuff.”

Shoko did not try to stop him, nor did she listen very attentively — she was grasping everything between the lines, in the tones and his big blue eyes. Yes, a spitting image, but his hair are fluffier, and his cheeks are pinker; maybe because he’s yet to be tired. Maybe because she saw you and knew exactly where it all came from.

“Mm,” she nodded. “And your dad?”

“I don’t have one,” he quickly responded. Then added as momentarily. “Technically I do, of course, I kinda know how it works,” oh, he’s definitely proud of how smart he was. “But he’s not around, it’s just my mom and me. I don’t hate him ‘cause my mom told me he doesn’t know and he’s very busy, but my mom is busy too and she knows, right? Also, how can you not know? Don’t you need to love each other to have a kid?”

“Not necessarily,” Shoko hummed, suddenly deep in thought.

“If he doesn’t love my mom, he’s stupid,” Yasu concluded. “Knew I got my smarts all from my mama.”

“Now that’s a possibility.”

He gave you time. You needed a few moments before you could finally sit up, a few more to carefully drink a glass he poured for you — not really in consideration, it would be just odd for him to watch you silently while you struggled to hold yourself together, let alone pick up a whole jug of water.

You felt better now and was almost ready to talk, as much as someone could be ready considering the circumstances. But your mouth was no longer dry, your head stopped spinning (if you stayed still, but hey, it was something) and you didn’t want to puke each time you tried to blink. You still felt like the boiling water tank was aptly thrown in your direction. The arm that was chewed on by the curse was still burning, although not as much, and covered in bandages.

“So, what’s your name again?” you both said in unison.

The room went silent for a really long moment, where you both just stared at each other. As much as a blindfolded person could stare back, but the feeling of being watched never left you in his presence. You were sure he could see you better than you could see him, somehow.

Then you chuckled, shaking your head, and he put his hands to his chest in pretend offence. “You cannot be for real right now,” he gasped, “I just mentioned my last name!”

“Bold of you to assume I was listening,” you chuckled again, making yourself comfortable in half-sitting position. The pillow was nice. “I was kind of trying not to show the world the void of my outwardly turned stomach.”

“It hurts my heart when I encounter the need to introduce myself,” he sighed dramatically, then finally plopped on the chair next to your bed.

“Heart? Is that what sorcerers call their ego nowadays?” you curiously followed his chaotic movements. Now that you were feeling better, you were more open to whatever conversation you two could have. “I’m [Name] [Last Name]. Sorry I don’t remember yours, it was a long time ago.”

“It was,” he nodded, obviously not offended anymore, if he ever was. “Gojo Satoru, the strongest, at your service.”

“No more service from you, sir,” you shook your head. “That’s enough children for the time being.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but it inevitably drew both of you closer to the main topic of the upcoming conversation. Gojo did find your joke funny, but the smile stuck on his face and soon enough became almost unnerving. You could feel his thoughts spinning, curling and link like a tapestry. And this tapestry had your son’s face on it bright and clear. You played with tips of sticking out bandages on your wounded arm, not wanting to look in his eyes, even though they were thoroughly covered.

“If you think I will try and make you feel guilty for anything, then stop. You do it to yourself just fine, no help needed,” he started, and your foggy memories of your past encounter revealed you a piece of memory. Yes, it was always a thing — him going from goofy to insanely serious in the matter of seconds. “I’m in no place to do so, I just found out I’m an absent father. Oh, Megumi would find it so funny,” you didn’t know who the hell Megumi was, but somehow you were certain he would not in fact find it funny. “But were you thinking it was safer to hide him from who he obviously is than to give him a chance to learn how to be stronger? He’s got such a potential.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“You see Yasu as a subject of your interest, a potentially strong… sorcerer,” you wrinkled your nose, hating to call Yasu that. “But he is my son. I wanted him to have a life, not to live trying to trade it for as much other lives as he possibly can.”

“And that’s why he almost traded it for just yours,” Gojo’s words were like a shotgun. They deafened you so hard and so mercilessly, you heard loud ringing all inside and out of you. Head started pulsating with everything grieving mother could have — and you grieved even the possible thought of your son getting killed; even worse, getting killed because of what you thought was totally right.

He fell silent, giving you some time to get used to the thought he just threw at you relentlessly.

“Yes,” you said after a couple of minutes, firmly. Knowingly.

Gojo perked up, taken by surprise and, because of that, genuinely curious. You were just a non-sorcerer, he met you for the second time in his life, and for the second time you managed to be very, very interesting for him. He was intrigued by you back then — he had a memory not half as bad as he made others think he had — he was intrigued by you right now, and you didn’t know it, but it was showing all the way.

He was still here.

“Huh?” he leaned forward in his chair. “What’s that, [Last Name]?”

“You want Yasu to learn your…” you gestured vaguely, not embarrassed by not knowing what exactly you were talking about, “…ways, right? Do it. I can’t protect him anymore, so it’s finally your job now. At least as a… uh, mentor?”

“Teacher,” he corrected, suddenly proud not as a lion — as a whole pride. “How did you know I am one now?”

“Three teens are stalking us through the window behind you for about twenty minutes now, and one of them looks like he thinks the glass is one-sided,” you looked in the mentioned direction, visibly concerned by both the fact they were watching you and the thought that one of them was leaning on the glass like a detective from a cheap American comedy. If he moved away, he’d probably leave face-printed stains on the poor window separating your room and the hospital hall.

Turning around, Gojo seemed absolutely unbothered. He waved at the glass like it was everyday occurrence. The pink-haired kid either did not care he was actually spotted or instantly forgot about it, happily waving back. These are world’s renowned saviours?..

“I have one condition,” you blurted out, taking all the Gojo’s attention back to you. It was amazing how easily you did so.

“Hmm?” he tilted his head, uncannily, if they were to ask you. Maybe the blindfold did its thing, making all he did seem somewhat mad. Wonderland’s Hatter in negative colour. You remembered how it worked for him back then.

It was amusing as much as embarrassing how you’ve always had a thing for such men. Sigh.

This time you were not going to fall for it, though. You had other matters to worry about, and you now had your son. Priorities. And Gojo Satoru was never one of them, even back then. One-night stand, he gifted you with the best son you could possibly ask for and you were grateful, really. But that was it.

“I get to stay by Yasu’s side while you train him. Take me with you, wherever it is.”

“Out of the question,” he stated solidly, stating his point by leaning on the backrest.

“That is not a question,” you answered as solidly. “You do not understand.”

Mere thought of someone taking away your child made you feel a huge surge of strength, and at that moment you felt like you could take on hundreds of ugliest curses if it meant getting your son back to you. You leaned closer to Gojo, now fearlessly, almost mindlessly staring where his eyes should be.

“You can deny me, you can try and take away Yasu, you can hide him from me and make me believe it’s for the best,” you hiss, throat hurting and you not caring at all, “but I will find every and each one way back to him, and if it means I die, so be it. I'll leave my flesh, my limbs, my insides, my head, heart and soul behind just to be with him. I’ll die and become the most terrifying curse for every leaving and deadly cold thing that tries to lay a finger on my son.”

You might seem like you didn’t really understand what you were saying, but Gojo did hold his breath for just a second there. He slowly, carefully put his hand up and tugged on his blindfold. It helplessly fell on his laps.

His eyes were the brightest shade of blue you could ever meet in person, but you never averted your gaze. You’d never be scared of eyes like these, because you were looking in them and all you saw was not Gojo Satoru.

It was your precious son.

Gojo let out a silent breath. You were not aware of it, but you weren’t lying or exaggerating; he looked at you with all the eyes he had and saw this horrific potential — if you were to die, you would most definitely become a curse.

If Yasu didn’t save you yesterday, you would become a curse yourself.

“It’s a deal then,” in contrast to his thoughts, he smiled as brightly as he could. It didn’t fit the occasion, and he knew it way too well.

“Really?” you blinked, snapped from your stupor, and finally lost all the strength you gathered from your motherly rage. You sighed, relieved, and laid back on your pillow.

“Need to talk to Yaga first, though,” he chirped, putting his blindfold back on. “If he refuses, I advise you killing him first.”

“Huh?”

You didn’t get the chance to question his choice of advice, because as soon as you opened your mouth, the door to your room also shut wide open.

“Mama!” Yasu ran right past the doctor that was escorting him and Gojo who stayed at his place, silently watching you two interact.

“Hey, baby, hey, I missed you too,” you smiled and chuckled as Yasu climbed up your bed and immediately held you in his arms. “Ugh, Yasu, my love, mama may actually pass away if you are going to squeeze her too much—“

“Oh, sorry,” he backed away a little, now inspecting you like he was escorting some doctor here just a second ago, not the other way around.

You looked back at Gojo over your shoulder. He didn’t seem like he had any fatherly feelings instantly clicking inside of him, but that was okay, you thought; in his mind, he was not a father not that long ago (at least, not to this child, his personal life did not concern you in any possible way). But noticing him quietly watching Yasu fixing your unfixable hair — you were glad there was no mirror close enough to check yourself out — you were hoping Yasu’s safety would become one of his biggest concerns.

And Gojo, looking at Yasu and you, caught that for the first time in his life he looked at a non-sorcerer and thought:

“She’s strong.”

Notes: absolutely enjoyed writing Gojo being a bit of a simp already, hehe (he thinks your spirit is strong strong). And look at Shoko and Yasu bonding over bullying Satoru, awwww (do all the sorcerers bond this way?) Also some of the next parts will include flashbacks to the day Gojo and reader met so dw it will be addressed in the story! Thank you for you feedback I was really glad you liked the first part of the fic <3

Taglist: @sad-darksoul @moonlightazriel @megumisthirdog @funtikbehemoth

[josephquinnswhore]

disarmed - joel miller x female reader.

Summary: you’ve been travelling with Joel for months, harbouring feelings for one another. Tommy helps the two of them realise how they feel.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: mutual pining, fluff, mentioned a few times that joel is still grieving Sarah, jealousy, possession, age gap. Joel is in his forties and reader mid-twenties. Post outbreak fic. Reader had some dirty thoughts about joel.

Note: I’ve been awol for three months. Hello friends!! @katiexpunk

"Ain’t gonna give up on me are ya?"

Joel calls out, checking over his shoulder to see if you're still behind him. You two have been travelling for hours, with the crunch of your boots against the snow that began to fall on the previous evening—the first official day of winter. They needed to reach Jackson before a mound of snow covered the area, or otherwise they would never know how long they would be there in this endless stretch of open space. With the possibilities of being stuck in a snowstorm, it dawned on them; the pressure to get to their destination.

Joel's crooked, uneven, scowling facade did nothing to keep you out or to halt your innate desire to preserve yourself by desperately attempting to make a connection with him, but for some reason, you had managed to accomplish what no one else could.

Make him feel affection, which of course, came with the pure unbridled fear at the thought of something happening to you. A fear he had not felt since..

“Not long to go now,” he murmurs, trying not to think about his past, his voice softening as he waits for you to catch up, he can see you are making the effort to keep up, your legs picking up their stride in an attempt to match his pace. Even so, at this rate they wouldn’t make it to Jackson before nightfall.

The weary look you give does nothing to comfort him either, internally, he cant stop any thought about you, wanting to know what you were thinking, what you were feeling, other than the pure exhaustion he could feel radiating from your pained expression and lame movements.

They were nearly at Jackson, to Tommy, after months of travelling and struggling for food, fighting against raiders and infected, Joel had made it his personal mission to keep you safe, to get you to Jackson. They had to make it today, before the sun fell, they were struggling for rations, between them, they had a can of baked beans left, two decades old and barely edible, it's clear to Joel that you’re losing hope.

“I know, not long, right?” You manage to reply after a few moments of thinking to yourself. The two of you had been surviving on scraps for weeks, you couldn't remember what it was like to eat a proper meal. For your stomach not to grumble and ache in hunger.

“When we get to Jackson they’ll have a bed for us, a real bed, probably a proper shower too, an’ food. Somethin’ for us to look forward to.” He glances your way, attempting to lift your spirits.

A crack of a smile stretches your lips, thinking about hot water, a real warm meal. “I don't remember the last time I had a real shower.”

“You’ll be able to finally wash that grease out of your hair too,” he mutters under his breath with a cheeky grin. He could only wonder how bad the two of them must smell at this point. Hes probably grown accustomed to the smell of his own putrid stench. A mix of grease, gunpowder, blood, dirt and body odour. You never complained though.

“Like you can talk, the stench coming from you is foul, old man.” A playful jest comes from you, one that makes joel smile, before feigning offence, he brings his hand to his chest as he scoffs. “Like you're any better.”

His lips turn into a genuine smile as the two of them share a light hearted moment, something that feels like it had been weeks since had happened – he can't help but admit to himself that.. it feels nice. That he enjoys seeing this side of you, that he could be the one to make you happy.

The playful smile on your face slowly slips into the same tight line it had been for weeks on end. The monotonous expression Joel had become so accustomed to.

“Whats on your mind? Somethin’ botherin’ you?” Joel asked, sensing that something was off with you.

“Hm? Oh, no I'm good, just get stuck in my head sometimes I guess.” You manage to excuse yourself.

He knew very well what that was like, he himself spent a lot of time stuck in his head, they were more alike than he had anticipated. “That’s alright, I understand.” He reassures her.

You can't help the way you feel something for him, noting the way his hazel eyes always softened when he looked at you, his voice soft. But the constant fear nagged you, about the age gap, he was in his forties, and you only in your mid twenties. Did he see you as a kid? Did he see you as a woman?

Joel always tried to remind himself that you weren't a little girl, even with the evident age gap between the two, he still saw you as a capable, beautiful woman. He couldn't deny the way he felt when he was the one to make you laugh, those beautiful eyes of yours and how expressive they were. He couldn't deny he felt something for you, which puzzled him, it was a feeling he thought he would never experience.

The snow begins to fall heavier, and with how long they had to go to Jackson, Joel knew it would be best if they stopped for the night, to try and find some shelter for them, for her. As if an otherworldly god hears their thoughts, a small cabin comes into the near distance. You hope wordlessly that Joel would offer to stop for the evening. If not, begrudgingly for a few hours, at least.

He motions for you to follow him, in the direction of the cabin. “That looks like a safe place to camp for the night, whaddya think?” To Joel, this was an easy decision, he was tired of seeing you shiver when you camped outside, clutching to the sleeping bag for a sliver of warmth, the thin material never did much to sooth your chattering teeth. He doesn't want you sleeping outside ever again, if he had any say over the matter.

“You think it’s safe?” Your eyes scan the area, it looks abandoned.

Joel nods as he cracks open the door, scowling as the door creaks open loudly. He leads the way inside the empty cabin, he does a quick scan of the place before he steps inside, out of the snow. Its a fraction warmer inside, something you can appreciate as you close the door behind you.

“Stay close.” He whispers, keeping an eye out, the cabin was clear after searching for a few minutes, it’s a small area, a broken lounge in the same living space as the kitchen. The floorboards in the corner are starting to rot due to a leak in the roof, some of the snow falling through to the inside of the cabin. “Looks like we're all good in here, I’ll look around and see what I can find, we’ll sleep here for the evenin’.”

You shrug off the heavy pack that had been clinging in the same sore spot for hours on end, shoulders aching dully as you roll them, reaching your hands back to massage the sore spots. Your fingers are cold and stiff as you unclip your sleeping bag from your pack, setting it up in the small kitchen area, away from the corner that has a small leak in the roof.

“This place ain't so bad, better than most places we been sleepin’.” Before Joel can relax, he eyes a bookcase, it's large enough to cover the front door, with one push it topples over, with a grunt, the bookshelf falls securely over the front door, keeping them safe inside.

You look around a little in the kitchen, seeing some old trinkets covered in a thick layer of dust, a windchime, it creates a beautiful twinkle as your fingers caress the cold material, clanging against each other. Going through the draws, you have a look at a faded image, picking it up to inspect it, your heart drops, the image depicts a young family, two parents and a small baby, all smiling into the camera, in this very kitchen where you stood now.

You can’t help but wonder how long ago they resided here. If they were still alive.

“Must’ve been a family’s cabin…” His eyes glance at the photo as he leans down to rummage through the cupboards, finding a few cans of veggies that had been left behind, he sets it down on the bench next to you. “We made out pretty good on food this time. Are you hungry?”

Shakily, you return the photo back to where you found it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“You okay?” He asks, sensing the uneasiness in your voice. He grabs the tin cans of food and skillfully pops the lids open with his knife, handing a can of food to her. He nods towards their sleeping bags and they both sit down on the floor, he can't ignore the ache in his back and knees as he stretches his legs out on the floor. He tried not to think about it, sitting here with you on the hardwood floors eating out of a two decade old can of veggies was nothing worth complaining about, compared to the hell you two had endured over the months.

They were together at least. They made it this far.

“Yeah, I guess. Just doesn't get easier, you know? Thinking about it. They had a baby.” Hesitantly, you start eating with Joel, who seems silent.

He eventually nods in agreement. “Not everyone makes it.” He speaks quietly, even after all this time, he still mourns, he's been reminded of his loss time and time again, the image of the family was no exception.

They eat in silence, and you set the empty can beside your sleeping bag, sighing as you snuggle into the little warmth it provides. “Try and get some rest, we’ll head out at first light.”

“Goodnight Joel.”

He watches you settle, a small grunt escapes him as he keeps his rifle close, he leans against the wall. “Goodnight darlin’.”

“I'm sorry about your daughter Joel.” You whisper, before sparing him a glance and rolling over away from him. Joel watched you, the words pierce him, memories of his daughter haunt him, but he can't blame you. “Yeah, me too.” He mutters under his breath.

Joel stays awake, he's too restless to sleep at the thought of Sarah, losing her, relieving the pain and anguish of twenty years without her. Yet, the pain was as palpable as it was the night it happened.

The sun rises, and Joel rolls his sleeping bag, clipping it onto his pack. He notices you stirring awake. “Mornin’.” He grumbles tiredly. He stretches his neck, a loud crunch fills the air. “We should get goin’. I want to get to Jackson before midday.” He groaned as he stood, his knees clicking into place, worn and aching, the cold didn't help.

You wipe the sleep from your eye and pack the sleeping bag up quickly, not wanting to make Joel wait, he seemed pretty restless. Joel shoves the bookshelf off the door, opening it and takes a weary step outside into the daylight. He couldn't wait to see Tommy, he couldn't stop thinking about a shower, and a decent meal. They had been surviving in the wilderness for so long, Joel wasn't sure what he would do being back in civilization.

You pause in the doorway, watching Joel walk outside, his worn boots crunching in the fresh snow. “Just.. just wait a sec.” You wearily call out to him, looking back inside the cabin.

“What is it?” Joel asked, stopping in his tracks, turning to look back at you, a confused look on his face. You take a few quickened steps back into the cabin, pulling the drawer out to find the photograph of the family, before rushing outside to meet Joel. “Someone should remember them.”

Joel looks between you and the cabin, wondering what on earth you were doing. “Whaddya mean?” He asked, his voice gruff and full of confusion. He stands there for what felt like forever, watching as you return with the faded photograph in your hand. He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

You shove the photograph into the back pocket of your jeans. “Ready to go?”

Joel looks at you, a serious expression on his weathered face. “Yeah.” He motions for you to continue walking, he tries to push behind the thought of the family as they walk from the cabin. For some reason, there was a warmth in his chest, at your actions, something so miniscule could show the kind of person you were. Perhaps not all hope was lost with someone so compassionate like you left in the world.

It was relatively quiet between the two of you for the rest of the trip, only a few miles, the snowfall had come to a halt overnight, so the snow wasn't much of an obstacle, being so far away from any town, there were near to no infected, nor other people.

Finally, ahead, there it was. They had finally made it to Jackson, to Tommy.

“Shit. This is Jackson?” You ask in wonder, taking in the heavily fortified walls, the men patrolling on the walls with rifles. A haven.

“Sure as hell looks like it.” Joel felt himself finally relax, for the first time in months, even if only for a moment, they had made it. “C’mon, we can get inside before the snow starts comin’ down again.” He picks up his pace towards the gate.

“Are you sure they'll let us in?” You knew Tommy was here, but the anxiety of being turned away was palpable. Joel glances back, reassuring you with a small smile. “Dont worry darlin’, Tommy knows we’re comin’.”

The gates open, and the hinges whine in protest.

“Joel, you ugly bastard is it really you?” A southern voice calls out, as the gate opens, and you watch as a man embraces Joel, similar in looks, if anything, less grey hair. “The hell took you so long?” The man asked, a joyous tone in his voice as he embraced Joel.

“Yeah, were not easy but we made it.” Joel huffed out a laugh. Tommy waves his hand, a brief gesture for the pair to follow him inside. Tommy looks over Joel’s shoulder as they walk. “Who’s this?”

You stand behind Joel, a meek smile on your lips as you introduce yourself. Tommy smirks at Joel. Joel's face reddened, his younger brother’s stare made him heat up.

“Just get us set up Tommy.” Joel muttered, avoiding the amused gaze from his brother. Tommy’s wolfish grin doesn't slip. “Sure thing, follow me.”

The odd interaction does not go missed as you watch the pair, following them to a house that Tommy had organised specifically for Joel. Tommy lets them into the house to look around and Joel speaks up. “We've been out in the wild for a long while, and we're happy to finally be able to settle down for a bit.” Joel explains, looking at Tommy.

“I can imagine. Well, i'll leave ya alone to settle in for now. Were havin’ a get together later tonight at the hall, you should come. It’ll be good for you to spend some time away from each other for a bit.” Tommy jests.

You look between the two men, confused. “So where am I going to be staying?” You knew that Joel would probably want to be away from you, now that he had done his part in bringing you here safely.

Joel's head snapped in your direction and he stared at you for a moment. “With me.” He said, a little too quickly. “You'll be staying with me, here.” Joel’s eyes dart back to Tommy as if he was warning him against some smart arsed response. He looked a little embarrassed.

It didn't take an idiot to notice the glance you and Joel shared. Tommy smiled ear to ear as he watched the interaction between you two. “Alright.. Well you two can get settled here. Holler at me if you need anything, alright?”

As Joel nods, Tommy steps outside the house, leaving the pair alone again. Setting your pack down, you admire the house. “Nice place..”

Joel hums, nodding in agreement, setting his pack down next to your own. “Its alot nicer than where we've been campin’. And there's electricity.” Looking at the light Tommy had flickered on when he walked in.

“You mean we can shower?” Joel grins in amusement at your sudden excitement. “Hot water and all princess, why don't you go on and have the first shower?” The bathroom itself was simple, but it felt surreal to have electricity and running water.

“Are you sure?” Joel nods, “I can wait, its all yours.”

Joel closes the bathroom door behind you, and explores the bedroom, ruffling through the closet as he decides what to wear to this stupid get together tonight.

The hot water feels incredible, soothing the aches in your body, as you lather the vanilla scented soap, spreading the suds to wash the grime off your body. The colour of the water that runs down the drain is appalling, dark brown from grease and dirt. The shampoo is fruity, and a divine smelling scent you hadn't ever smelt in your lifetime. Lathering the clear concoction, you take your time to scrub the grease and disgusting things that stick to your strands of hair and scalp.

Its almost painful to shut the water off, but you know that Joel deserves to experience the hot water too, stepping out, you run your hand over the fogged up mirror, and hardly recognise yourself.

You slip on the clothes that had been provided for you, dark wash jeans and a long sleeved, tight fitting brown shirt. It accentuates your body shape wonderfully.

You look like a brand new woman as you emerge into the bedroom seeing Joel sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

Joel looks up at you, his eyes widening as he takes in your form. You were even more beautiful than before, you looked radiant. He quickly stood, clearing his throat and he tried to keep his composure. “Hey darlin’.” He manages to utter out, his voice a little low.

Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze, hazel eyes roaming your body. “You gonna have a shower before we go?”

Joel glances down at himself, he now looked completely filthy compared to her, realisation sinking in.

“Y-yeah I think I will.. I can wash up in a minute.” As he looks back up at you, he notices your lingering gaze on him.

Were you checking him out too?

The tension is broken as Joel walks to the bathroom, taking his turn for the shower. Your mind wonders as the water runs, wondering what Joel looks like under all those clothes, if the hairs on his chest travel all the way down his torso, wondering if his tanned skin is the same delicious colour all over. A soft groan echos through the bathroom, gartering your attention, ears perking at the wonderfully intimate noise.

Something inside of you tingles in excitement at the thought, it's a hard thought to squash as you put your boots on. Joel's hair was damp, slicked back, the greying strands on his temple looked lighter than ever. The green and red flannel shirt hugged his torso and arms snugly, the jeans looked a size too small, clinging to his thick muscular thighs. His hazel eyes stared down at you as you looked him over, admiring him, he cant quite read the expression on your face.

Now it was your turn to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Ready to go?” Joel was still trying to come out of his haze as he stared at you, still trying to process the way you were checking him out. “Y-yeah…” He muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, let's.. Let's go..”

The hall is set up nicely, small bulbs hang from the ceiling emit a full yellow hue, there's an old record player, with vinyls underneath the bench it’s set up on, the melody of an old song echos through the hall as they walk in together, they gain some looks, from people dancing, young and old. Joel is brought into another hug by Tommy as he greets them. “Hey, look at you!” Tommy grinned. “You clean up nice.”

You silently agree, Joel looked as handsome as ever.

Joel's face runs hot as he hears Tommy’s tease, turning a rosy pink across his cheeks. He quickly brushed it off, rubbing the back of his neck as he attempted to maintain his composure. “Shut it, Tommy…” Joel muttered. Tommy grinned as he watched his brother's reaction, his eyes then shifting to you. “And you… look beautiful tonight.”

Joel watches your reaction to his brother's compliment, seeing you squirm a little. “Thanks Tommy. So… what exactly is this?”

Tommys grin remained as he motioned for you both to follow. “It's a get together, we do them to blow off a little bit of steam every once in a while, you know how it is.” Joel grunts in annoyance, not enthralled by the idea of being social, nor in the judgemental gaze of the community folk.

Your eyes follow the couples as they dance to the music. A sense of yearning overcomes you, wishing it were you and Joel dancing so intimately. It's something Tommy notices.

“What, you want to dance, girl?” He asked, a mischievous grin on his lips. Joel's eyes widened as he tried to get his attention. “Tommy…” He muttered in warning, his voice a low grumble.

You didn't decline tommys suggestion. “You offerin’?” Perhaps, if anything, you would be lucky enough to make Joel jealous.

Tommy nods, taking you by the hand as he drags you to the makeshift dance floor, away from Joel. “Of course.”

Joel could feel the annoyance bubbling up inside him. He wouldn't admit that he was starting to become jealous at the sight of his brother dancing with you.

You and Tommy dance, occasionally sneaking glances at Joel, who still looked unimpressed by the situation. Tommy laughs whenever he sees Joel’s scowling face, enjoying winding his brother up. Tommy took his turn to tease you. “So… what's it like travelling with my grumpy ass brother?”

“He's not grumpy with me.” You answer simply. This, Tommy raises a brow at. “Oh really?” He glanced over her shoulder at his brother, who was now glowering at the pair. “Looks real grumpy to me..” He teased, letting out a small chuckle.

“Only cause you're pickin’ on him.” You counter.

“You're probably right.” It wasn't uncommon for Tommy to tease his older brother like this, the more he saw how annoyed Joel was becoming, the more he wanted to keep this up.

“I like him, alot.” You murmur between the two of you. Tommy’s teasing expression dies down, shifting to an expression of empathy. He was quiet in thought for a moment before he spoke. “I can tell…” he glances at joel. “He's got it bad for you too.”

“Thats a lie if I’ve ever heard it, Tommy Miller.” You scoff.

Tommy’s brows furrowed a little as he scoffs as your disbelief.”You can't seriously tell me you're that naive, it's obvious he likes you, girl.” Joel's gaze darkens, eyes fixated on them from across the hall.

“He doesn’t like me.”

“Have you seen the look on his face? He's got this…” Tommy gestured to his own face. “...stupid look on his face since we've been dancin’. And he's lookin’ like hes seconds away from murderin’ me.”

You shrug. “He's just protective of me.”

“And how do you two interact?” Tommy asked. “Like, he dont seem too fond of me touchin’ you.” Joel's eyes flicker down to the way his younger brother's hand held your waist.

“I’m guessin’ you got some kind of plan, then, to prove me wrong?”

Tommy’s face lit up when you say this. “What do you think, girl? Are you up for it?”

A groan leaves your lips. “What’re you thinkin’?”

Tommy smirks, gently and suddenly twirls you, bringing you flush to his chest, the action makes Joel scowl. “We’re gonna piss him off just enough for him to come over. Sound good?”

You don’t miss Joel's reaction, maybe it did mean something..

“Okay, let's see what you got.”

Tommy grins, he pulls you close to him, dipping his head down to your ear, whispering. “You tell me if he gets too annoyed for yer likin’... I don’t wanna cross no boundaries.”

Tommy is an impressive dancer, you admit, and as nice as it is to be spun around the dance floor, your mind wonders what it would be like to dance with Joel, how he would hold you, where he would place his hands, how firm his grip would be.

Tommy dips you, making sure to keep a tight grip around your waist, and his body as close to yours as he could manage without dropping you, Tommy leans in, his nose close to yours. “Bit dramatic don't you think?” You mutter, eyeing tommy. There was a chance Joel would kill Tommy for this, and Tommy leans in, as if he was intent on kissing you.

That was it for Joel, he reached his breaking point, watching as his younger brother's actions grew more bold and more suggestive. As soon as he saw how close you two were, how intimate that moment looked, he pushed his way through the dancefloor, barging people that were dancing to get to them. Tommy’s plan seemed to work, getting the reactive reaction out of Joel, your eyes widened as Tommy straightens you up, the older Miller brother approached them.

“Now you've done it.” You mumble.

“Oh no, what have I done?” Tommy teases. Before he could say anything else.. Joel yanks Tommy’s shoulder, separating him from you.

Joel lets out a low growl, pushing Tommy further away from you. “What’re you tryna pull, Tommy?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Tommy protests, shrugging his shoulder out of Joel's grasp. “I’m not pullin’ nothin’. I was dancin’ with the girl, is that a crime?” Joel grits his teeth together, trying to stop himself from punching his own brother.

“He wasn't doing anything Joel.” You murmur softly, trying to calm the man down, but it seems to only agitate Joel that you seemed to defend Tommy’s actions.

His nostrils flare as he looks at you. “You're takin’ his side then?”

“Hey, come on, it ain't like that.”

His irritation grows, did you really think this was okay? That this was just friendly dancing? “You really think he was just dancin’?” He mocked.

Your brows furrow as you sense Joel’s rising irritation towards you, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “Yes, that's exactly what I think.”

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest, this was not going the way he wanted. “He was all up on you and you think this is innocent? You’re more naive than I thought.” He sneers, a low grumble leaving his lips.

It hurts, hearing Joel talk to you like this, and you shove past them before he can see the tears welling in your eyes. Tommy stops Joel from chasing after you.

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, turning to look at him. “Get outta the way, Tommy.”

“She likes you, Joel.” Tommy said, his hand not leaving his older brother's chest, needing him to listen.

Joel rolls his eyes, not believing that statement for a moment. “No, she doesn’t. She was just humouring you.” He tries to push past Tommy again.

“It was my idea joel. I thought if I turned up the heat a little you'd show her you're sweet on her.”

“...what?” Joel's face flushed pink hearing that. “You.. you were just trying to…” When he realised that this little stunt was all an attempt to show that they liked each other, it surprised him, was it so obvious?

“You know I wouldn't dream of makin’ a move on yer girl. Go on now, get her and tell her how you feel before she runs off on ya.”

Joel stares at his brother for a moment as his words sank in. Once it did, he nodded, understanding now that this was an attempt to try and make Joel admit his feelings for you. He didn't say another word as he turned out of the hall, rushing back to the home where he knew you would be.

You felt humiliated by the entire thing, by Joel being angry at you, he had never looked at you with that look of unbridled anger. It was always directed towards other people, the ones that had tried to hurt you. Never you.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy, easily recognisable to you. As he makes his way to you, where you’re packing your things into your pack, tears streaming down your swollen cheeks.

He calls your name, and you don’t respond, shoving things angrily into your pack, you know he’s at the bedroom door, watching you.

His heart sinks as he watches you, he steps closer to you, reaching his hand out to touch your shoulder, in an attempt to stop you. “Stop.” He muttered softly. “Stop packin’ yer things.”

When you don’t listen, Joel takes the pack from your hand and tosses it across the room, your possessions all spilling out into the wooden floor. “What the hell is your problem?” You snap.

“Would you just stop it?” He exclaims, frustration evident in his tone. He grabs your arm, firmly enough to garner your attention. Spinning you to look at him. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“You humiliated me!” You quip, voice trembling.

He exhaled, the warmth of his breath fans on your cheeks. “Listen..” he muttered. “Whatever you thought happened, it was the complete opposite. Tommy told me the whole plan, he was.. tryin’ to make me admit somethin’ to myself.. to you.”

Your cheeks warm as you realise Tommy snitched. “..oh.”

His large hands reach out to cup your face, turning your face upright, so your gaze would meet his own. “I care about you a lot…” he spoke after a moment, his expression softening. “I know I’m not real good at showin’ it, but I really..”

“I really do like you, darlin’.”

You sputter a response. “Tommy.. was right?”

Joel nods, his expression growing bashful as he tries to hide his embarrassment with a small snort. “Yeah.. stupid bastard was right.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to stumble over his words. “Have done since I saved ya all them months ago.” He confessed.

His hand runs through his hair again, something you’ve picked up as an anxious tick of his. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

It was a question Joel hadn’t really thought of himself, until now. “It’s hard for me to be vulnerable..” he admits. “I’m just… not really like that.”

It certainly wasn’t the first time he had trouble opening up about his feelings, but he wanted you to understand that he wanted to try, with you.

“Especially with.. the way the world is now.. I thought I shouldn’t get myself tied up in somethin’ that could just get me hurt later.”

The words that went unspoken, you understood. He was afraid of losing you. And suddenly, her eyes softened. “What changed? Seein’ me with Tommy?”

It was an embarrassing truth, one that he had to face. “Yeah..” he agreed, glancing away from you a moment. “It felt like someone was just punchin’ me in the guts. Seein’ you dancin’ with him I felt..” he groans. “Jealous.”

Unintentionally, you bat your lashes at him. “I was so convinced you wouldn’t like me, I made such a fool of myself.”

His brows scrunch together as he realises how his actions made you feel. He gently takes your face in his large hands, his thumb rubs your cheek in a soothing motion.

“Hey, you didn’t do any of that…” he murmured. “If anything I shoulda told ya ages ago.”

With his reassurance, you wrap your arms around his midsection, fisting the soft material of his flannel on his back. He doesn’t resist, although he relaxes from his tense stance, bringing his own arms around you. “How about we start over an’ I’ll do this proper?”

Your eyes widen, looking up at him. “Proper?”

He couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto his lips, your words make his heart flutter. “Y’know.. with you as my girl…” he murmurs nervously. “If.. if you’d like that?”

“I would like that.” You accept without hesitation, your voice soft as Joel leans his chin on your head, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t ever try an’ run off again. I’ll hog tie ya to the bed if I have ta.” A soft laugh leaves your lips at his threat, and you raise a brow.

“That right? Maybe I’ll take off one day, just to test you.” Joel’s eyebrows raise, a daring look in his eyes, arms tightening around you as he lifts you off the ground effortlessly, tossing you onto the plush bed.

“Yer mine now sweetheart, ain’t letting you go, ever.” He murmurs against your neck, hovering over you, pressing a small kiss to the soft skin of your temple.

“Mine till the day I die.” He growled possessively, the tender touch was a concise movement, one that contradicted his possession.

Somehow, you had disarmed him. And from now on, Joel wasn’t going to fight it.

[dollypopup]

I can't stop thinking about Colin on his travels. Colin, alone, on a journey to 17 different cities, across several countries. Colin on his own.

Colin who writes letter after letter, to his family, to his friends, and barely gets a response back. How long before he understands that they didn't get lost in the mail? How long until he realizes that, just like when he was a boy, no one has the time for him? The space for him? How many letters unanswered before he lets it finally take root and fester in his mind?

He could have died on that tour.

Would they even notice? Would they see when the letters slow until they cease? Would they wonder why? His mum, surely (maybe, possibly, but she has enough on her hands, besides, and he's never been a concern, in need of her assistance, before), but anyone else? Anthony on his honeymoon, Eloise a stormcloud personified, Benedict taking on the familial responsibilities, Fran preparing for the marriage mart and in Bath, regardless. Daphne, his closest sister, a mum running her own estate.

Greg and Hyacinth who enjoy his stories, but are children.

Pen who ignores him. No explanation, no goodbye.

Colin who has no one in his corner. Colin who travels city to city, putting on personas. Will they like me? What about now? Colin who has hardly anything to read from the people he loves. Who do not think of him.

And yet he thinks of them. Brings them back gifts, writes his recollections for them until it hits him that, oh, they don't care. They don't care what he's doing, how he's doing. They didn't want to hear it before, when he was there with them, and they do not want to hear it now, either. Did they even open those envelopes? Did they see them come through the post, just as proof he's alive, and shrug off the contents? Did they look? Once, Colin sends an empty page. No one notices. Easier, then, to send just the outsides. People only ever care about the outsides. Pretty and prim in neat packages, uncaring of what lies beneath. Sea sick on the rocking boats, staring up at stars on the continent, Colin grows aware, but not bitter. Sad, but resigned.

He loves his family, he loves Pen, loves them to grace, loves them to it's okay. It was him, he determines. Too chatty, his letters too long, uninteresting, his passions dull or droll, or else, worse, he's displeased them in some way. Colin who takes refuge in stranger's arms and homes, who dreams and tries to sate his curiosity. Colin who pretends, because anyone, anyone but him would be received better, he's sure of it. Colin who must talk too much, surely, and with no one to listen. Colin who learns to hush.

Yes. Remarkable- as in, I have many remarks about it.

How many times did he go to excitedly write of what he did that week, and stopped himself, knowing it was a waste? How many times did he write and throw into the fire a letter asking Why don't you see me? Why don't you care?

If he didn't make it, how long would it take for anyone to notice? A month? Two? A year? Would they wave it off as his frivolity, denounce him as a flake and fume about the funds? Would they wonder where it was he had lost himself off at?

He cannot fall into that, so, he writes in his journal, instead. Of the ache of it, of how he longs for connection, for understanding, for someone to take him seriously. He keeps it with him, this log of his discontent, of his folly and felicity, of his pitfalls and pains.

If he didn't make it, would they realize all that's left of him is what he sent them, not even a body to bury? Did he look over the side of a bow of a boat and look at the churn of the ocean and think of how many bones it held? Did he tip his face to the sun? How many new scars did he earn? Who did he befriend?

Who did he become?

Somewhere along the line, Colin learned. He learned the real him wasn't wanted.

Somewhere along the line, somewhere between Patmos and Paris, Colin left Colin behind.

And, somewhere along the line, Colin laid face to face with loneliness in his bed, and it wrapped its arms around him.

[stolitzsings]

It's just SO fucking good and so fucking gutwrenching how much sense both of their mistakes make for them

And how backed into a corner both of them felt

It's completely understandable that Blitz would feel blindsided by Stolas’s confession- from his perspective it's coming out of nowhere

But this is something Stolas has been wrestling with for months now, and it's slowly killing him. He starts off his day with an anxiety vomit bc of how stressed he is about this conversation, and he also thinks this might be his one and only chance to tell Blitz how he feels. He's giving Blitz the crystal, no strings attached, so for all he knows he might not ever see Blitz again after tonight. He needs to lay it all out there if he wants Blitz to understand

Also Stolas has been trying to show Blitz he cares for so long: inviting him to hang out for things, suggesting movies and comfort after the turmoil of Ozzie's, letting Blitz take the lead on whether to see him for the full moon each month, plus everything Blitz mentioned to Fizz! Liking his pictures and asking him how he is and all those things that Blitz dismissed because he simply couldn't fathom that Stolas would actually be interested in him. Stolas has been giving him space and checking in on how he's feeling and offering to talk about things, presumably for months now, all in a bid to show Blitz they could have more than a transactional relationship.

And he'd been hyping himself up to have this conversation, telling himself it could go great! Maybe Blitz would be just as happy as he was! Maybe he felt the same and this would all work out!

But even though Blitz does care about him, he's fucking terrified to show or even acknowledge it, because feelings mean getting hurt. And he's been shutting himself off from the possibility of Stolas having those feelings for months as well. He can't allow himself to hope for anything more, and anyway it would just complicate things, so best to stick to nice, safe sex stuff like he's sure Stolas wants to anyway.

So he completely misses all the times Stolas is trying to give them a way forward, and as a result he just can't believe Stolas’s confession could be real. And then he REALLY fucks up. This has to be a sex thing, right? The one thing he's convinced himself Stolas wants, especially tonight? He's thinking "there's no way anyone could love me like this," but all Stolas hears is "there's no way YOU could love me like this."

Because while Blitz has been shutting out any hope that Stolas could love him, Stolas has been CLINGING to scraps of hope that Blitz might love him, in order to give himself the strength to have the conversation they're having now. I don't think he understands why Blitz wouldn't leap at the chance to believe him.

To Stolas, this is confirmation that Blitz still sees their relationship as the same as it was after Ozzie's, when he said their relationship was just sex and Stolas SAW how unhappy he was. Clearly, Blitz still feels this whole thing is about Stolas wanting Blitz to fuck him, and it's not fair to keep him trapped in that dynamic. He thinks the conversation is over, he has his answer because Blitz wasn't happy then so he clearly isn't happy now.

Stolas spends the rest of the scene trying to bow out gracefully. He thanks Blitz for changing his life and tries to escape before he really breaks down. Remember, he's going through an acrimonious and, to be frank, VIOLENT divorce right now, with the person that he's terrified of becoming in his relationship with Blitz. He would do anything to get out of his shitty relationship quietly, so clearly the kindest thing he could do is let Blitz go without making a fuss.

But Blitz is only just realizing that he read the situation so wrong. When he chases after Stolas, Stolas might see it as just another person following him around his house to yell at him. For Blitz, though, he's scared, he's angry at Stolas for springing this on him, and he feels like Stolas is trying to discard him because of one dumb thing he just did. Stolas doesn't know how many times Blitz has been dropped before because of one fuckup. He doesn't get how close he's gotten to Blitz's past trauma. Meanwhile Blitz is trying to get Stolas to give him a second to figure shit out, to just stick with him and not expect him to have all the answers right away.

And when Stolas doesn't give him that, because he's convinced that Blitz is still unhappy and is now just trying to make this hurt as little as he can, Blitz retreats back into anger. Finally Stolas is discarding him just like he always knew he would eventually. Their relationship has been such a rollercoaster for both of them and he just needs a little time, dammit! So now this feels like just another case of someone throwing him away for not living up to their expectations.

Stolas can't hear him asking for time, though. All he sees is Blitz following him to curse him out, to yell about how shitty he is, just like Stella has always done. And Blitz is right!!! Stolas was so crushed by the initial rejection that he didn't give Blitz the space he needed to process things. Blitz wants to talk and yell and fight through things and get all the shit out there. But Stolas is so focused on holding himself together for just a little longer.

Stolas's biggest fear was that he'd trapped Blitz in their arrangement, and the way Blitz tries to ask for time and engagement unfortunately hits directly on that. Blitz is yelling that Stolas doesn't get to just dismiss him, he deserves a chance to be heard and to figure shit out, and to have an actual conversation about this. But Stolas fixates on Blitz’s accusation that he's treating him like a servant, and assumes that he's referring to their entire relationship. It confirms, in his mind, that Blitz was never with him willingly and would never want to be with him willingly.

And it must hurt so much to hear Blitz call him a "pompous, rich asshole" in that moment, when he has been trying so hard to be selfless about this. He made himself so vulnerable with this confession and the gift of the crystal. He put everything he had out in the open. But if Blitz thinks he's an asshole, well, there's no way he could share his feelings, right? He's being vulnerable, and probably expected Blitz to do the same and lay his true feelings out there as well. And Blitz really is trying, but he's still using anger and insults because they're familiar and safe. PLUS there's the added panic of "Oh fuck, how badly did I hurt him that he thinks of me like this?"

Stolas doesn't know how many times Blitz has been abandoned for fucking something up, and Blitz doesn't know how many times Stolas has had to shut down and endure tirades of abuse he couldn't escape from. Stolas thinks he's done all of this and Blitz still can't see him as anything but a stuck-up, frigid jerk. And if this desperate, grand gesture wasn't enough to get Blitz to see how much he cares, well, what hope is there?

He's still reeling from what he perceived as Blitz’s mockery of the very idea that Stolas could care for him. He tried to leave peacefully but Blitz won't let him bow out, still wants to yell at him and tell him how shitty he is, won't even give him the dignity of breaking down in private. Never mind that those weren't Blitz’s intentions at all. Stolas was so scared, so tentative about this, that Blitz’s almost inevitable incredulous/messy reaction was bound to hurt.

Both of them are working off their own assumptions, their low opinions of themselves, and their past traumas, and can't see enough of each other's histories to understand that's what they're doing.

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

So... Flame. Sure, fans love to hype him up as this big, bold skywing hero, but let's be real here: he's got some major issues. Like, dude's ego is huge, and he's got this whole superiority complex that's just not cute. But what's even worse? Some fans eat it up, totally ignoring how his behavior reinforces all these messed-up power dynamics.

And don't even get me started on his fanbase. They're just as problematic as he is, if not more. They defend his every move, no matter how shady, and attack anyone who dares to call him out. It's like they're blind to his flaws or just don't care because he's their precious skywing idol. But here's the thing: turning a blind eye to Flame's problematic behavior only perpetuates the toxic culture he thrives in. We need to hold both him and his fans accountable if we ever want to see real change in the wof fandom.

I've got to be honest, you need to breathe in, breathe out, and chill out.

Also, "Messed up power dynamics" where are you getting that from. Was the messed up power dynamic when he was under Morrowseer's control because of the false prophecy, or when he was (possibly) forced by Darkstalker to kill Stonemover? He's never been in a true positon of power, and though he has done bad things, its never been because of the power he holds over others - in fact, it is that he feels like he lacks power that causes him to do what he does.

Same thing with the "toxic culture he thrives in". It's not like Flame lives in a patriarchal society where he abuses a girlfriend and that's why he's a villain and should be "held accountable". He tried to kill a dragon because he got mad that the dragon wouldn't heal his face. It's not that complex.

Sorry for inserting my opinion so much into this. I try and stay objective and let people come to their own conclusions on my posts, but this just made me really confused and annoyed.

[zerokurokawa]

hiii💗 i read some of your works and i can say that you’re really amazing at writing and i have one request to you to make fic or head canon (you decide) where bonten haitani brothers (which one you decide) accidentally have a daughter from their ex-girlfriend (who they had been together for long time) they don’t knew about anything because they were broke up for 17-18 years and she’s been living with her daughter in another country and after they come back they accidentally met each other and how would their reaction would be? how would they treat her?…

ill be honest i’ve read so many fics that was written topics like that but none of them we actually enough interesting… so ty for attention and good luck💗

Daughter From Another Lifetime | Bonten!Rindou x Reader <3

Once he found out that he had a daughter from your previous relationship, he would try to reconnect with you. He was shocked at first, seeing your daughter walk through the doors of his office, asking for him directly by name. 

"Hi, uhm... I'm d/n Haitani... I'm looking for my father, Rindou Haitani..." Your daughter would trail off, stumbling over her words as she tried to speak properly. She was intimidated by the office and the security guards. When he heard his name and saw a sweet girl come through the doors that looked just like him, he instantly knew that she was his. 

While taking her out to eat for lunch, Rindou began to ask questions about you. 

"How is your mother? I haven't heard from her since she... left me." He would ask, seemingly sad. 

"She's doing okay, she told me all about you and I've always wanted to meet you, so I came and found you!" She exclaimed, taking a bite of her food that she greatly appreciated. She was excited to of finally met her real dad after all these years. 

"Will you tell her I need to speak with her, d/n?" He asked nervously, not even touching the food that he ordered. He didn't have an appetite, for he had just found out that he had a child with the love of his life from many years ago. 

"I'd love to, dad!" Hearing her call him dad was what made his heart instantly melt. He decided right then and there that he was taking the rest of the day off to get to know his daughter. Rindou would take her shopping and buy her new clothes, shoes, and even took her to the arcade that he used to go to when he was younger. He enjoyed watching her play the same games he used to play. 

Thoughts ran through his head as he watched his child smile and have fun; like what would happen if he tried to reconcile with you? What could he do to win you back? He wanted this, he wanted a family. Seeing his perfect little girl made him want and miss you even more than he already did. 

Eventually, it was time for her to head back to you. Rindou made it a point to take your daughter home, hoping you would talk to him at least. Once they arrived at your apartment, Rindou got out of the car and walked d/n to the front door. He knocked nervously, straightening his suit and fixing his hair, trying to look as pleasing to the eye as possible. 

You answered the door and your eyes went wide. 

"D/n, where have you been all day?" You asked, gesturing for her to come inside while staring at Rindou, who was standing quietly in front of you with a slight smile on his face. He was trying to not seem upset or shocked. All these years, he knew you resented him for being involved with gangs, violence, drugs, and dirty money.  That's the reason you two broke up in the first place years ago - because he wouldn't let that lifestyle go. You ended up having to let him go instead. 

"Y/n, can we talk?" He finally spoke up. 

"Come in." You said with a stern voice. 

You sent d/n to her room while you and Rindou sat at the counter in your apartment. 

"It's been 17 years since we broke up, yet you never told me I had a daughter." He started the conversation, cutting to the chase. 

"We were kids, I didn't think you were ready to be a father. Plus, I was scared because of all of the things you were involved with." You went on, taking a sip of a glass of well needed wine. 

"You were pregnant, and you didn't even bother to tell me..." He trailed off, "Did you really not trust me to be around OUR child?" 

"I just told you exactly what went wrong. You never listened to me, not even once." You put the glass down and stared at him. 

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not listening and I'm sorry for everything that I've done that caused you to leave. But keeping my daughter a secret from me breaks my heart. I've only been around her one day and I already love her. Please..." He stammered with his words, trying not to tear up at the thought of you not wanting him around. 

"Please what, Rindou?" 

"Please, let me be there for her. I can support you both. You'll never have to work and she'll never have to go without. I have money, tons of money-" You interrupted him quickly. 

"Dirty money that you got from doing bad things, Rin." You said, assertively. 

"Please, I'm begging you. I can keep you both away from all of this. I can keep you both safe and sound. You'll never hear or see any of the things I do. I just want my family." He was begging at this point. 

"I'll consider it on one condition." You said after a moment of silence. 

"Anything." He sat up straight, ready to take on whatever conditions you threw at him. 

"You have to promise to be the best father you can possibly be to her. Meaning, you choose her over anything - your job, your money, everything." 

"I promise." He said, without a single doubt or hesitation in his voice. He wanted this and wanted you more than anything in the entire world. 

(A/N: I may make a part two to this if you like it! I enjoyed writing this.)

Update: Part Two

[aeternallis]

No but for reals, the thing about s3 part 2 that simultaneously makes me a happy bean high on life yet also breaks my heart completely is the inevitability of Penelope finding out the full extent of just how much Colin's attention is on her, how much he's keenly aware of her, how much he is utterly consumed by her.

Shondaland and their love of couple's miscommunication for the *drama of it all*, we know at this point that Colin is gonna find out about LW in the worst way possible, and that's mostly likely by secretly following her as she delivers an edition to the print shop. This is not a spoiler, RMB has been out for 22 years, lol

Penelope's self/society-appointed status of being a wallflower has always afforded her the invisibility she'd needed in order to make LW successful; that invisibility, which has given rise to her insecurities, so deeply ingrained in her as it is, her anger and her loneliness, has also been her smokescreen in her efforts to hold up a mirror to society.

Yet in many ways, she's taken that invisibility for granted.

But as s3 part 1 has shown us, Colin's eyes are now thoroughly trained on her. Even in the midst of his anguish as he'd watch Penelope court with another man, his attention couldn't help but stay firmly on her (not that he ever really fought or denied it). And the poor girl, outright believing her invisibility to be infallible, won't realize until too late that the two people she loves most in the world have long pierced through that smokescreen.

Of course Colin follows her. Of course he sees her donning that disguise when she visits the print shop, when she truly believes her invisibility in society to be unfailing. There will never be a scenario within the world of Bridgerton believable enough where he doesn't follow her; he loves her too much to ever entertain the notion to not.

Penelope herself had said back in season 1, Colin is "not simple."

How wonderful it is to be seen by the people you love most. How terrifying it is to be seen by the people you love most.

Lordy, s3 part 2 is gonna come for us all. ;_;

[alottiegoingon]

hc! enemies to friends

natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

summary: going from enemies to friends with nat

warnings: golden retriever x black cat dynamic, very brief drinking mention, cursing, not proofread pls ignore any mistakes

the request was enemies to lovers but i didnt want to sound repetitive so this could be considered a prequel for this if you ignore a few changes :)

𖧊 nat thought you were an excruciating pain in her ass

𖧊 when you joined the yellowjackets, she couldn’t be any more frustrated by your constant overwhelming happiness or your endless chatter

𖧊 “do you ever think about how aliens may think that we are the real aliens?” you and misty were in a heated argument about the topic while warming before practice and natalie was really trying to ignore you until she couldn’t anymore

𖧊 “oh my goood!” nat growled, hands covering her face as she was one step away from murdering you with her bare hands. “do you ever stop talking?”

𖧊 “maybe,” you reply to her snarky comment, stopping stretching your legs to cross your arms. “if you say please.”

𖧊 “i’d rather throw myself in front of a bus, actually,” she retorts, jaw clenching

𖧊 “and how exactly do you plan to play soccer with a broken leg or arm?”

𖧊 “no, that’s not-”nat tries to explain that, first of all, she didn’t actually mean it in a literal way but, second, if she did then playing soccer would be the least of her worries. but then she realized how stupid it was

𖧊 “just forget it,” she muttered, storming away with heavy steps, seeking solace in a quiet corner to warm up

𖧊 you were everywhere. yes, you went to the same school and the same soccer team but still, nat was always hoping to get a break from you

𖧊 it wasn’t very difficult for the other girls to notice that nat wasn’t exactly the happiest around you and that’s exactly why jackie paired you two, trying to make you get along

𖧊 “it looks like we are partners,” you said with a grin, heading towards nat. her narrowed eyes and tense posture were a stark contrast to yours

𖧊 “let’s just get over with it,” she couldn’t care less about small talk and she surely didn't wanna hear shit about fucking aliens

𖧊 passing the ball to each other was a very stupid idea, nat was sure of it. it was for kids, for beginners. and she wasn’t either of those. you, on the other hand, seemed pretty content with the fun and light training

𖧊 “did you know that smoking isn’t good for you?” you simply let your bold words fall from your lips, still focused on the exercise

𖧊 “how do you know i smoke?” nat can’t believe how annoying you were. she didn’t need advices

𖧊 “i saw you smoking behind school this morning. i tried to say hi but you didn’t see me”

𖧊 “oh. was that you?” she squints at the memory of a louder version of yourself was screaming her name from the open window of a passing car

𖧊 “yes, didn’t you hear me?”

𖧊 “sorry, i thought you were screaming bats”, nat explains, trying to hide a hint of a possible smirk appearing in her face by compressing her lips

𖧊 “why would i scream bats? i was saying nat!”

𖧊 “hm, no,” she nods. “it was definitely bats”

𖧊 bickering over small things was something that the yellowjackets were very tired of, especially if it happened in the locker room after practice when everyone was exhausted

𖧊 “are you filling my water bottle?” nat approached when you were by the drinking fountain, struggling to hold at least five other bottles on your arms while filling nat's

𖧊 "no, nat. i'm holding it for fun," you snort, eyes pierced on the running water so it wouldn't overflow

𖧊 "i didn't ask you to do that!"

𖧊 "the girls asked me to do theirs and yours was empty. you're welcome" as soon as you're done with it, you close the lid and practically shoves her bottle on her chest, barely giving her any time to hold it

𖧊 "it was empty because i wanted to! the water tastes like shit here," she digs her fingers into the plastic so hard that they were turning white

𖧊 "are you allergic to saying thank you or just rude?" you exhale, now facing nat with, for the first time ever, impatience in your eyes

𖧊 "fuck off, princess," she forces a laugh out, "i'm allergic to annoying and bubbly girls stealing my stuff, yes!" nat steps forward and you thought you were allucinating when you caught her eyes on your mouth

𖧊 “just kiss already, i'm so tired of your shit,” tai groans before you could tease her about it and right by her side there's van smirking at the very gay situation

𖧊 “in her dreams, maybe," you mock nat just to have the pleasure of watch her whole face going red

𖧊 after being completely humilliated by you (you made her blush) in front of everyone, nat was furious. that until she found you hidden in the spot she would usually go to smoke with her friends before school

𖧊 she was about to leave as soon as she laid her eyes on you, not wanting to get envolved in any drama. besides, she didn't like you and she didn't care. but she couldn't just leave you there

𖧊 "what's up, princess? someone stole your gel pens?" nat wasn't good when it came to comfort someone, and definitely not you. so, maybe, being funny would help

𖧊 you didn't bother to look up at her. sitting on the floor hugging your knees against your chest and burying your head onto your legs, you weren't in the mood to listen to her taunts. "not now, nat."

𖧊 nat wasn't sure of what to do. sitting by your side and mirroring your position, she pondered for a while and decided that the best thing to do was to wait. it's not like she cared about being late for school anyway

𖧊 "coach martinez wants to replace me. he said i don't kick strong enough," you slowly lif your head from your knees in order to face natalie, who was attentively listening to your first words after some solid ten minutes

𖧊 "this is crazy. what does he know about soccer anyway?"

𖧊 "he's the coach, nat," you frown at her strange way of reassuring you, despite finding it kind of cute

𖧊 "well, there's that," she rubs her temples, "but we still have time until the nationals. maybe we could practice together"

𖧊 "like you and me?" your confusion only gets worse. natalie scatorccio wanted to help you?

𖧊 "it can't be that bad, right? and it would suck to have you replaced by some other loud and irritating girl when i'm already used to you"

𖧊 this could go terribly wrong and end up with nat having your head in a stick but you were willing to take the risk if it meant that you had a chance to stay in the team

𖧊 "alright, i'm in" shaking your head, you extend your hand for nat to shake it and seal the deal. "i always knew you didn't actually hate me."

𖧊 "don't make me regret it, princess."

[offtorivendell]

On Elain, Gwyn and their apparent romantic worthiness.

TW: mentions of death, violent or sexual assault, infertility and pregnancy/childbirth related trauma. Please do not proceed if these topics bother you.

Disclaimer: please, please engage with this post with kindness. I promise I am not writing it to stir the pot, but because I - and many others - are fed up with seeing hurtful and harmful rhetoric spewed by the fandom, yet having no back up when dealing with it. Word vomit incoming, I'm sorry. This has been bothering me for a while.

My love to everyone who has been hurt by things they've read in this fandom. 💜

It's 2024 and I cannot believe we are still seeing posts, almost daily, about both of these women; all giving reasons why they cannot possibly be with Azriel. And I don't mean the debatable but utterly harmless discussions about Elain not looking good in black or Gwyn blabbing to Merrill when asked not to. Whatever, go nuts. I mean the truly horrific takes based around things these two women have had no control.

Now, my post history makes it very obvious where I stand in terms of ships, and yes, I'm well aware I've spoken before about the inherent power imbalance - that I perceive - which would exist if Azriel ever became involved with any of the priestesses in the women's shelter he is charged with protecting (to be clear, that's not me suggesting that Gwyn and her story isn't powerful, or powerful representation to those who see themselves in her, nor is it personal to Gwyn, or indicative of any of the sheltered priestesses and their ability to heal; it's purely a function of Azriel's position of authority over their sanctuary). I want to reiterate that my stating my feelings about this was never done with the intent to shame people who do ship them; we all ship who we like, and real world ethics should rarely come into it.

That being said, the following, in my opinion, is one of those times.

Firstly, I just want to say that lived experience informs how we interpret fiction, so please let me clarify something: the people who have said that they don't think Gwyn is ready for a relationship yet, and that NSFW fan art of her with anyone makes them uncomfortable, are not in any way in the wrong. They're simply the other side of the coin to those who find it empowering, and both are valid responses, often related to personal trauma. The problem lies with those very few who say that Gwyn could never have a romantic relationship, and call those who talk and/or post about it "gross." Some have called her "damaged goods." This is absolutely wrong and whoever is doing it needs to stop.

The entire fandom, even those who find romantic or NSFW content involving Gwyn uncomfortable to consume, frequently acknowledges that her trauma doesn't define her, and of course she should be able to enjoy love whenever she feels ready for it. Those who say otherwise are readily condemned from all corners. I've seen it happen and called the people out myself, as have many other Elriel shippers when necessary. However, Elriels are still very regularly and very publicly blamed for the actions of a few (some of whom I truly believe are burner accounts wanting to cause chaos, with their Elriel themed usernames and no post history), despite our largely collective action to call them out when we see it.

Could we do better? Absolutely, but so can you!

Because, on the other hand, I've noticed that, whenever I or others have tried to explain why the pliable bones "theory" - which attempts to reason that Elain could never be endgame with Azriel, as she and any baby would die during the course of pregnancy or childbirth - is equally as harmful, we are met with people publicly and wholeheartedly refusing to understand why (especially recently). Some horrific comments have been made to my friends, not to mention all of those I see well after the fact, which are never widely condemned by any but us. People will argue back that we're wrong, and have even suggested we're weaponising infertility! On Mothers' Day, of all the fucking painful days to say that.

Some of the push back I've seen recently includes:

"Nobody has said Elain is infertile."

No, nobody has, and that's not what we're saying or have ever said. We know you don't think this, as the Elucien fandom loves to write and draw Elain and Lucien's hypothetical future children (which is super understandable, as this is a romantasy fandom after all - no shame, enjoy your warm fuzzies).

What we are saying is that, if it's true that Elain's anatomy wasn't changed as Feyre and Nesta's was - and to be clear I cannot stand that entire plot, I wish SJM had chosen literally any other reason why Feyre's pregnancy was dangerous, as it is simultaneously degrading and doesn't fit with her previously established lore - then Elain and Azriel, together^, would be functionally infertile. Yet it's only ever framed as Elain's body not being able to work with Azriel's, never the other way around.*

^Why didn't the bat boys have to sacrifice their wings to keep their wives/mates safe? Why did the women have to change their anatomy? Because it would make it harder for them to be all powerful? Well Nesta sacrificed her powers! Why not just have Feyre be cursed by an enemy or something, and Nesta found a way to use the Dread Trove to save them all. Ugh. I love SJM's books, but this was such a miss.

*HOSAB/HOFAS SPOILER: funnily enough, this was never said about Ruhn and his eventual mate, even though he actually did think he may be unable to father children, thanks to the Oracle's prophecy. People shipped the hell out of him and a couple of different women throughout the CC series, despite the chance he could never get them pregnant.

"People haven't called Elain damaged goods, so it's not the same. We're allowed to not like her."

My faerie porn* lover in christ, what the fuck do you think the pliable bones "theory" is actually doing? It is suggesting that Elain's hypothetical inability to survive having children with Azriel, and for those children to also survive childbirth, is impaired. Ergo, she's damaged.

We don't care if you don't like Elain, we're allowed to have different preferences in characters and ships. That has never been the problem.

*I use this term with affection as a great lover of the genre.

But "damaged" vs a functionally "impaired" uterus? It's the same damn thing, and sorry, it's misogynistic af, not to mention ableist and homophobic at a minimum. In the same breath you are also reducing your favourite to her apparently functional uterus (even though the pliable bones argument is medically inaccurate, by the way - this is really damning of the state of health education across so many countries).

"Hahaha/lol."

Yes, I have seen people laugh and treat this as a joke. As recently as tonight, in fact. It's disgusting.

Regardless of your lived experiences and shipping preferences, both of these takes about Elain and Gwyn are equally degrading and horrific and need to stop, but if you're only calling out the comments that hurt you/your friends/your ship and not the others, then you should maybe attempt some basic self reflection and analyse those double standards you're carrying.

This entire fandom needs to do better. I'll say again, for the umpteenth time, to any of my fellow Elriels that if you think mocking Gwyn's past is funny, then you're not mature enough to read an adult series. But this works both ways, and if you think mocking infertility is funny/use it as a win, then you're just as immature. I would really and truly appreciate it if we were not left alone to argue over and over again why discriminating against someone who couldn't "have a man's children" is wrong, and why many, many people in this adult fandom - that is largely comprised of women! - might find such a theory, and the resulting discourse, incredibly upsetting.

Infertility hurts; not having a kid when you want one can be viscerally painful. Besides that, I know very few people who have given birth who don't carry around some sort of emotional or physical trauma from doing so. Treating a character's hypothetical infertility with one man as a joke is gross.

Please don't call Gwyn "damaged goods" or suggest that Azriel would choose somebody else over Elain because she couldn't have his kids.

They are the same thing.

It's not hard to be kind. Pain is not a competition.

We should all do better, and take care of each other.

[mopopshop]

headcannons about taurasi when reader and her are arguing , angst, possible smut 👀

Lost Love

Summary: DT’s late practices are straining her marriage to Aniyah (reader). As loneliness and unspoken words drive apart, both must confront their unraveling relationship and search for a way back to each other.

y’all this might be too angsty honestly LMAO but i’m actually kinda proud of it😓🙏🏾

send more requests!! i’m gonna close them after tomorrow

It’s once again another late night, alone, sad, and in the dark.

Diana’s practices have been getting later and later these past few weeks. You’ve tried to be understanding, tried to support her as best as you can. After all, you knew what you were signing up for when you married a professional athlete. But tonight, it feels like the loneliness has swallowed you whole.

When you finally hear the sound of keys jangling at the door, you sit up, your heart heavy with a mix of anticipation and dread. Diana steps in, looking exhausted and barely acknowledging your presence. 

"Hey," she mumbles, dropping her bag by the door.

"Hey," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Another late night."

She shrugs, not meeting your eyes. "Yeah, practice ran over. Again."

There’s a tension in the air, thick and palpable. You’ve had this conversation too many times before, and yet, here you are again, hoping for a different outcome.

"D, we need to talk," you start, your voice trembling slightly.

"About what?" she snaps, her tone sharper than intended. "I’m tired, okay? Can we do this later?"

"No, we can’t," you say, standing your ground. "We’ve been putting this off for too long. I’m tired too, D. Tired of feeling like I’m not a priority in your life."

Her eyes finally meet yours, and you see a flicker of guilt before she hardens her expression. "You knew what this was when we got together. This is my career. This is important."

"And what about us?" you ask, your voice breaking. "Aren’t we important? I— I am your wife for christ’s sake! 

She sighs, running a hand over her face. "Yeah I fuckin’ know that. I’m the one who goddamn proposed to you Niyah-“

"But it doesn't feel like it anymore!" you shout, cutting her off. The dam of your pent-up frustration and hurt bursts open. "You act like your career is the only thing that fucking matters! When was the last time we had a real conversation? When was the last time you actually listened to me?"

Diana's eyes flash with anger. "I am doing everything I can! Do you think I wanna- wanna come home to this? You think I enjoy arguing with you? Being yelled at after practice? I’m working my ass off every damn day to support us, babe. I'm giving it my all out there!

"And what about in here?" you counter, pointing to the space between you. "What about giving your all to this marriage? I feel like I'm just an inconvenience to you now, D. Like I'm something you have to deal with instead of someone you want to be with."

She shakes her head, her jaw tight. "That's not fair. You know how demanding this job is. You knew it from the start."

"Knowing it and living it are two different things," you say, tears welling up in your eyes. "I can't keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not. I can't keep sitting here every night, wondering if you'll even remember to come home."

Diana throws her hands up in exasperation. "What do you want from me, Niyah? To quit? To give up everything I've worked for?"

"I want you to fight for us as hard as you fight on that court!" you cry, your voice trembling. "I want to feel like I matter to you, like I'm not just some fuckin’ second thought."

Diana clenches her fists, moving closer so now the two of you are yelling inches apart. "You're not a second thought," she insists, but the conviction in her voice wavers. "But I can't drop everything for you. I can't just walk away from my career."

"I'm not asking you to walk away," you reply, your tone desperate. "I'm asking you to find a balance. To show me that you care. To make some time for us, for me."

Diana's eyes narrow, her frustration boiling over. "Balance? You think that's easy? Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep up with everything? To stay at the top of my game? I can't just turn it off when I come home!"

"And I can't just turn off my feelings!" you shout back, shoving her lightly. "Every night, I'm here waiting, hoping you'll walk through that door and actually see me. But jesus D, it's like I'm invisible to you.”

You turn down the hallway, stalking towards your room as Diana follows you. 

“D, don’t fuckin’ follow me I’m done with this shit and I’m tired” you say exasperatedly and huff your way into a sitting position on the bed, trying to speak over her

"No! I am gonna follow you and I am gonna keep talking ‘cause that shit you just said isn’t  true, Niyah," she says, her voice rising. "I do see you. But I can't always be here. I have responsibilities, commitments. This is my life!"

"And what about our life?" you counter, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. "What about the promises we made to each other? Does any of that matter to you anymore?"

Diana looks away, the conflict in her eyes clear. "Of course it matters," she mutters, but the words sound hollow.

"Then why does it feel like you're choosing everything else over us?" you ask, your voice breaking. "I need you, Diana. I need you to be present, to be here. Not just physically, but emotionally."

She takes a deep breath, her frustration palpable. "I genuinely don't know what you want from me, Niyah. I'm doing the best I can."

"Your best isn't enough!" you shout, the words hanging in the air like a final blow. "I need more. We need more."

Diana's face hardens, her eyes flashing with anger. "And I need you to understand that I can't always give more. This is my career, my dream. I can't sacrifice that."

"And I can't keep sacrificing my happiness," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you, D… I love you so so much— but I can't keep living like this. Feeling like I'm always waiting for you to remember that I exist."

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of your words settling heavily between you. Diana's shoulders slump, the fight seeming to drain out of her.

"I don't know how to fix this," she finally says, her voice low and strained. "I don't know if I can."

"Neither do I," you admit, tears streaming down your face. "But something has to change, Diana. We can't keep going on like this."

Diana looks at you, her expression a mixture of pain and resignation. "Maybe... maybe we need some space. To figure things out. To see if this can even work."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but deep down, you know she's right. "Yeah," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe you should go."

Diana nods slowly, the decision weighing heavily on both of you. She turns and heads toward the bedroom door, pausing briefly as if to say something, but the words never come. Instead, she grabs a few essentials and heads back to the living room to gather her things.

As she leaves, the sound of the door closing behind her feels final, like a chapter ending in your life. You sit on the edge of the bed, the tears flowing freely now. The loneliness you've been feeling these past few weeks intensifies, and the emptiness of the house seems to swallow you whole.

You lie down, curling into a ball as the sobs wrack your body. The bed feels too big, too cold without her. You clutch the pillow where her scent still lingers, but it offers little comfort.

The silence is deafening, broken only by your muffled cries. You lie there, heartbroken and alone, wondering how it all came to this and if there will ever be a way to bridge the gap that's grown between you and the woman you love.

———

[suns-pott]

A caged bird.

Word count: 808

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

"Ah, you're already awake, my dear."

He greeted you with that same infuriating smile, as he did every morning. His hand slithered around your shoulder as you sat by the window, your only way of seeing the outside.

"Why am I here?"

He flinched at your question, a slight twitch of anger, his wings fluttering slightly. "Angel, I have told you why."

"That's not good enough, you have to give me a real reason. I don't want to hear any more excuses about 'love' or 'safety'." You retorted back, turning around to face him. He ran a hand through his silvery hair, the locks still perfectly framing his face as usual. His voice sounded restrained, a small frown forming in his expression. "Darling, I have told you before, I don't want you going out there, it's far too dangerous."

"But you never elaborate on that any further, give me the real reason, Sunday." You turned away from the window to face him with a determined expression, his eye twitching in annoyance. "Drop it, Y/N."

He hasn't called you by your name in months, your words must have struck a chord with him, his stern expression stilling any words that could have formed on your tongue. You look down, gazing at his shoes instead, though he soon grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, pulling your head up, his expression softening once your eyes met his. "There is no need to worry, angel. I have been blessed with less work to do today, so I will return early this evening." He planted a small peck on your cheek, his heels tapping on the carpeted floor as the door closed with a click.

Three months, two weeks, three days, thirteen hours and nine minutes. That is how long you have been stuck in this room. Now that he is gone, you started your daily routine of looking for a way out, starting with the front door. Your hand pressed on the handle, and it surprisingly clicked open, revealing the rest of the Reverie hotel to your sight.

Your legs moved before your mind could, quickly walking out to see an odd sight. Though it looked like the hotel at first, the one in reality, it appeared to be quite the contrary. Dream bubbles floated around, furniture hung in the air, and no one was around. But, you thought he took you back to reality, the room certainly looked like it, but he kept you in the dream after all?

You ran through the hall, looking for any possible exit, a way out of this nightmare. Trying any door you came across, almost all of them were locked. Except for one, a door that led you out into what appeared closest to the lobby of the hotel, with more doors on the sides. You approached one, opening it and walking inside. The room appeared closest to the lobby of the- wait, the same room? You tried a different door, the one to the left of you, that one leading right back to the same room. You tried yet another door, that one leading right back to the same room, again. You felt tears welling in your eyes, continuing to run, you sprinted past each door you opened, though the result was always the same.

Your lungs felt as though they were on fire, your legs were sore and heavy as lead; though you persisted, looking for an exit at any cost. Eventually your body collapsed out of exhaustion, panting heavily as you lay on the ground. The only thing you had energy to do was cry. Pulling your knees into your chest as you buried your face in them, tears spilling from your eyes, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up, sniffling as you spotted the man who was the cause of your tears.

"Sunday..." You said in a meek voice, slowly sitting up to meet his sorrowful yet angered gaze. He pulled you into his embrace, lifting you up in his arms.

"Darling, what were you thinking? Running off on your own, you could have come across serious danger. Thankfully I had some precautions in place, to ensure you didn't wander too far." He released an exasperated sigh, his brows slightly furrowed, beginning to walk back towards the room you had previously been trapped in. "How did you know?" Your voice was barely a whisper, never daring to look in his eyes, though in the bleak silence of the room, he could still hear you perfectly. "Do you really think I wouldn't notice your absence? Come now, you are my pride and joy, I don't know what I would do without you. You're my angel, I must protect you to keep your presence at my side, even if it means clipping your beloved wings."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Based on this fanart it's so fucking good omg

[writingquestionsanswered]

Struggling to Focus on Plot vs Everything

Anonymous asked: I'm currently outlining (whilst still figuring out my plot and everything), but I keep getting sidetracked. My brain is trying to plant seeds to help me figure out the overall story, but it's distracting me from getting the main story line plotted out because instead I'm trying to come up with every possible scenario for why things happen. This method is exhausting, though, and I'd rather have a solid story line first, then flesh it out from there. Ultimately, I feel like I need to figure out my story's timeline and the main events, because I want that all sorted before I tackle how the characters experience it. It's just really overwhelming and when I try to pluck out the big pieces, they crumble into smaller pieces.

[Ask, and subsequent ask, edited for length and content]

So, if I understand correctly, it seems like part of you just wants to get down the actual plot of the story, but when you try, you end up delving into all these deeper background details?

What I'm thinking is this: if you're able to, I would start by doing what I think of as a "holistic summary" of your story... sort of like a brain dump but in general chronological order from beginning to end. It doesn't have to be perfect... you can backtrack, jump around a little, and go on tangents as needed. The point is to just get down as much of the story as you know... and as much as your brain will want to flesh out in real time... just to get it out of your head.

Sometimes, just getting it all out of your head on paper in one single container can help free up your brain to focus on the backbone of your story... the actual framework all of those details need to adhere to.

Another thing that might help, if you haven't done this already, is to look for a story structure template to help you tease out the story. There are loads of them out there from Save the Cat Writes a Novel! to Larry Brooks Story Structure, Three-Act Story Structure, the Snowflake Method, The Hero's Journey, Blake Snyder's Beat Sheet, Derek Murphy's 24 Chapter Outline, Gwen Hayes' Romancing the Beat, Shawn Coyne's Story Grid, The Seven Point Plot Structure, Dan Harmon's Story Circle, The Five-Act Structure, James Scott Bell's A Disturbance and Two Doorways, Kishōtenketsu Structure, Story Spine, and a bajillion others... The key to using a story structure template is to know it doesn't have to be followed exactly. They're not there as molds to cram your story into... they're more like "suggested itineraries" for a road trip. This is an ideal route with some popular stops along the way, but you may wish to alter the route slightly or make some different stops. Many writers actually use bits and pieces of different templates to suit their needs or the needs of their story.

Sometimes, just choosing a random template to tease out your main plot can be enough to help you see exactly what the main plot is, which makes all the other stuff fall into its proper place as character development, back story, and world building.

I hope this helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[sadhours]

infected boys - 1

billy hargrove x steve harrington

cw: 18+ minors dni, first person pov, mutual masturbation, pining, drug use

He interrupts me, “I feel bad. I can’t stop thinking about it. You like me, Billy. You have a… you have a crush on me.”

“Alright, King Steve, calm down,” I scoff, not wanting pity from the guy. Either he likes me back or he doesn’t. I live either way. “I read you wrong. It’s no big deal. We can be friends.”

“It’s a big deal! Billy, it’s… do you?” He turns towards me.

“Do I what?” I play stupid. I know what he’s asking.

“Like me,” he breathes, sounds like he can’t believe it.

Or

Billy has a crush on Steve but they’re friends now.

read on ao3

Alright. I’m stoned and maybe the acid is starting to kick in. The Marlboro waves in front of my eyes each time I take a hit but I did accidentally squish the box in the door when I was stumbling in to take a piss so now all the cigarettes are kinda crumpled. The particular one I’m smoking has a slight tear in the paper above the stamp but I’m determined to not let it go to waste, though it ain’t hitting like it should. I feel like a dumbass about it. Susan was filling the dishwasher and the dumb thing is positioned in front of the garage door so when I opened it, cheap particle board wedged into the plastic door of the dishwasher. My boots are a little too heavy for my intoxicated state and I swayed against the garage door, smashing the box of cigarettes when I did so. Susan looked at me with angry eyes and like, scolded me. Like she’s my fucking mom. And the bitch doesn’t do housework often, so I told her I didn’t expect her to be doing the dishes. She said something about how l didn’t need to open the door so forcefully. I had to piss.

That’s all besides the point. The cigarette is moving. Or I think it is. I smack the back of my hand against Steve’s Member’s Only jacket and wiggle my brows, eyes trained on the Marlboro perched between my lips. I mumble around the cigarette, “You seein’ this shit?”

Steve’s voice is all out of sorts. Gooey and gargled, like there’s syrup dripping down his throat. Guys gotta be more fucked up than I am. Sounds like he was miles away when he replies, “Huh?”

“It’s moving. Waving,” I inform him before inhaling, watching as the ash stem lights up and burns through the paper. “See?”

“I— no,” Steve murmurs disappointedly, “I think I got a bum tab.” His fingers scratch at his bony knee, eyes trained on my cigarette and he’s squinting like maybe if he tries hard enough the acid’ll work.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I cackle, “You sound high.”

Steve heaves a sigh and sinks in the chair, “Just stoned.”

I shrug and pull the cigarette from my lips, “Give it a sec. Mines working.”

Tommy’s guy usually comes through but to be honest, I don’t know much about acid. I’ve only taken it a handful of times and never was I anywhere near sober before. It’s certainly in the realm of possibility that Steve did get a bum tab. Once I glance up at Steve, I’m sure my acid has kicked in. His hair is waving too. Like the waves I used to glide through back home. It curls and recedes, calmingly. I’m tempted to run my fingers through it but I’m luckily, not that far gone. Especially after the last time we got high and I woke up in Harrington’s bed, boxers around my ankles and a fat hickey on my pec. We haven’t talked about it. I don’t remember what happened and I’m fucking praying he doesn’t. Hawkins is too small. Word like that’ll spread like wildfire and land on the unaccepting ears of my father. And I had fully anticipated on sticking to women when we moved here, but Harrington is pretty and after I tried to rearrange his face with my fists, he became kind of the only real friend I have here. Tommy’s a friend, I guess. But I don’t tell him whatever I’m thinking and we don’t stay up late, sharing secrets and dreams. Steve’s different. At first, I thought we were like, total opposites. Deep down, we’re both just really fucking lonely.

“Wait,” Steve sits up with his eyes wide, “Your hair is growing.”

I smile smugly, shaking my head to illuminate his hallucination, “Everyday.”

“No,” Steve giggles and that smile makes my stomach churn. I kinda want to punch his face again. “Like I can see it growing.”

“Bum tab, my ass,” I quip and kick his ankle with my boot. As I grab for my can of beer, I remember it’s empty and it’s the last one. “Think you can walk, pretty boy?”

Steve hums, sticks his feet out and kicks them like he’s checking to make sure they still work, “Yeah. It’s doable.”

Now normally I’d drive, but the last time I did while on acid, the lines in the road curved when they really didn’t and Hopper pulled me over with a disgruntled look on his face. But when he insisted he drive me home, I told him Steve’s address. And his face got all contorted and scary but he didn’t say anything. Just drove to Loch Nora, knocked on the door and asked Steve, “He live here?” to which Steve replied, “Tonight he does.”

That’s when I decided I liked Steve. And not just ‘cause I thought he was good looking and he was fun to talk shit at. He cared enough to let me stay, and he combed my hair out with his fingers while I laid my head in his lap and told him what I’d been up to that night. We don’t talk about that either.

“‘Kay,” I stand on wobbly legs and announce, “Minute Mart, here we come.”

Harrington follows me through the open garage and out onto the street. It’s the rare occasion we’re at my place. Steve’s is usually safer, but dad’s been on my ass about being gone all the time and I guess maybe, I’m a little attached to Harrington ‘cause I still wanted to see him. And he never turns down a sleepover. I think he’s lonely.

Cherry Lane is dark at night. Not like in Loch Nora where the street lights only shut off when the sun's out. Again, my boots are too heavy and I know I’m stumbling, so I accept when Harrington grabs my bicep to steady me. Minute Mart is the only place in Hawkins that’s open 24 hours a day and luckily, it’s the closest convenience store to my house. It’s like, usually a fifteen minute walk. But I’m seeing like fifty more slugs on the sidewalk than I normally do. I freeze, pointing at them as they wiggle around.

“Those real?” I ponder, leaning into Harrington’s support.

He frowns and purses his lips, “They are now.”

“You’re a dickhead,” I tell him with fondness and he pushes us forward, exaggeratedly hopping over slugs that may or may not exist. I let him do it, like they’re secretly explosive or something and I step over the ones he does.

When the neon lights come into view, I feel excitement dripping down my throat and my mouth waters at the promise of more cheap beer. Most likely free because Harrington doesn’t often let me pay. Which is fine. ‘Cause the money I have is slim and I’ve been saving it from my summer job at the community pool. Once we’re inside, I make a beeline for the cold beer and Harrington dilly dallies around the plastic wrapped pastries. A true opposite in our personalities. The man loves sugary things. Even keeps a damned candy bar in his glove compartment of the Bimmer. I asked him if he was diabetic when I found it.

Once I’ve successfully obtained the sixer, I meet back up with Steve and his hands are full of snacks. He empties them on the counter and beams at the bored cashier. I slide the cans up beside the sweets that make my stomach queasy just at the sight alone and ask for a pack of Reds.

“It’s pretty late, isn’t it, boys?” the cashier points out as he pokes at the register.

“Maybe it’s early,” Harrington offers as he pulls out his wallet. I cackle but the cashier doesn’t seem amused, counting the bills Steve hands him.

“You owe me a dollar,” the guy insists and I rip my wallet from my pocket, racing Steve to hand him the bill. I win and Harrington grumbles but I feel proud I could contribute something.

The walk back is brutal, it seems longer than the way there but that’s probably because it’s uphill on the way back and now our hands are full. But once the pulsing porch light my dads been bugging me to replace forms into view I’m antsy. We have to sneak back in. And go to my room. The doorknob vibrates as I stare at it. Harrington is the one to twist it open. Walks through the living room without a care in the world and I’m jealous, know I could’ve done the same thing but I just couldn’t. Don’t trust the quiet and the darkness.

He collapses on my bed as I shut the door, sprawls out on it and his polo rises up enough that I can see the trail of curly brown hairs leading down to what I’ve been too chicken to really think about. Now, in the isolation of my room and the weed, booze and acid clouding my judgment, I think about Harrington’s cock. How I’ve seen it soft in the showers at school. And worse, how I’ve potentially seen it hard and don’t remember. The fact that I want to see it, want to touch and taste it.

“We have to be quiet,” I whisper, more to get out of my sinful thoughts than to warn him.

Harrington hums, eyes closed as his hands scratch at his stomach and result in exposing more of his abdomen to me. My stupid, gay thoughts run wild and I imagine getting my lips on that soft, mole speckled skin. I really wish I could turn on my stereo, drown out these thoughts but dads voice in my head helps enough. Faggot, on repeat has me avert my eyes and grabbing a beer. I don’t allow myself to sit on the bed with him, instead I lower to the floor and rest my head on the mattress. My eyes flutter shut without really trying, I’m starting to feel exhausted from the short walk to the Minute Mart. The sound of Harrington’s steady breathing fills my ears and it’s almost like a lullaby, I can feel myself starting to slip away while waves of brown hair flood my closed lids.

I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until the sun starts peeking in through the blinds and birds start singing a symphony of early morning alarms. I’m unrested, bones aching everywhere and I wonder if I even slept or if the acid hallucinations just felt like dreams. I look at the alarm clock, it’s 6 am. Dad’s probably already left for work so I figure it’s safe to crawl into bed with Harrington. His skin is warm. I don’t mean to press into him but he’s in the center of the bed, sprawled out like a starfish. I turn on my side so my back is pressed to him. He makes a gargled, sleepy noise and wiggles around. Which gives me more room but now our skin isn’t touching which I’m only a little bit bummed about. God this is stupid. It’s a bad idea being friends with Harrington. But hey, being friends is better than hating each other. He turns.

His arm hooks around my waist and I fall back asleep easily.

—

Harrington has an impressive skin mag collection. It would be creepy, but they’re pristine. Organized chronologically. Playboys, Hustler, Penthouse. He’s got them all. Stacked neatly in a plastic tub hidden in his walk in closet. He showed it to me about a month ago and we haven’t brought it up since. But now we’re sitting in the living room, skunky air permeating from the joint we shared. And weed makes me horny. I think it makes everyone horny. It makes Steve about ten times dumber which I didn’t know was possible but it is, he pants like a dog when he’s stoned. His eyes look thoughtless and I have to call myself a fag so I stop staring at him. Harrington doesn’t notice when I stare at him or if he does, he doesn’t say anything.

“How long you been collecting them nudie mags?” I try to ask casually, hoping Harrington can’t tell from my voice that my stomach and thighs are tight and warm with arousal.

His eyebrows shoot up as his face contorts deep in thought. Mouth pursed as he tilts his head, counting behind his eyes. Up in that empty little head of his. Except Harrington has a huge head. All square. I chew on my cuticle as I look at him, waiting for him to answer. His hazy mind is making it harder for him to remember, I can tell by the way he scrunches his face up before he finally replies, “Got my first one when I was like thirteen? Kinda got obsessed after that. Not even like for the porn part, they’re just pretty.”

“The girls?” I assume and Steve laughs softly before shaking his head. His chestnut hair bounces with the motion. His hair moves a lot.

“The photos. The girls too but they’re just cool. I like the ads a lot,” Steve explains as he reaches for his can of Coke.

I laugh, “Gay.”

Steve rolls his eyes before reaching his hand out and shoving my bicep. I ignore how his touch lights my body up. It’d be pretty fucking embarrassing to pop a stiffy right now, though I could blame the weed. ‘Cause it’s definitely the weed making me feel this way and not because Harrington’s eyes look green with all the red clouding the whites.

“I literally jack off to them, how is that gay?”

“To the ads? That’s super gay, Harrington,” I cackle, leaning back against the couch as I bring my beer to my lips.

Steve groans, “No, dickwad, I jerk off to the girls.”

“You got a favorite?” I ask, eyeing him over the rim of my beer. I’m itching for a cigarette but Mrs. Harrington can somehow tell if someone smoked inside. And what particular model has Steve’s dick hard is more pressing than my need for nicotine.

“Yeah, obviously,” he laughs, though it sounds nervous. Am I making him nervous? And why does the thought of that have my balls tightening?

I smirk at him, “Go get ‘em. Let’s see if your taste in women is as piss poor as your taste in music.”

“You have no respect for the classics,” Steve kicks my ankle as he stands and hops up the steps. I do, but my dad would actually like it if I listened to Sinatra instead of Tank. And that would make me sick if my dad approved of anything I like. It was funny when I asked Harrington what he listened to besides the radio. And he said big band. I almost hacked up a lung laughing and choking on the bottle of whiskey we were sharing. He insisted it was good and put on a Sinatra album super loud. The worst part is he sang along and Christ, Steve can sing. Crooning up to the ceiling and I hated how sexy he sounded.

I hear Steve’s heavy feet down the steps before I can cock my head around to see him. About ten magazines in his arms. He drops them carefully on the coffee table. More than half are Hustlers which makes me chuckle because I know those are the actual filthy ones. It’s not just chicks, you get to see cock in pussy. I don’t own any. I have a pathetic collection of Penthouses. And a tried and true VHS tape stashed where dad or Max won’t find it.

“Alright, Harrington, who is the girl that gets your dick hard, let’s take a look,” I say with a sigh, like he’s burdening me with this stuff and I didn’t ask.

Steve makes a face at me, mock offensive but his long fingers grip a magazine and he then he narrows his eyes at me. “Listen, this is vulnerable and I’m just warning you, I haven’t looked at this spread without getting a boner.”

“Like Pavlov,” I chuckle and nod for him to continue but he looks at me confused.

“Pavlov?” his nose wrinkles, “Is that a model?”

“No, like the scientist,” I explain, thinking that might clear things up but his face still looks puzzled, “Like Pavlov’s dog? Ya know… he conditioned dogs to—“ Steve stares at me blankly so I wave the thought away, “Nevermind, show me this smokeshow.”

Harrington has a goddamn sticky note marking the place of the centerfold. He flips it open and points with his hand, “She’s my favorite.”

It’s a blonde. She has big and bright blue eyes, long and curly black lashes and pretty pink, plush lips. She is hot. I can’t deny Steve’s taste. Funny though, this is a Playboy. It’s the most tame you can get. Steve just finds this girl pretty enough. She’s nude, but she wears knee high black boots. Her bush is thick so you can’t even see her pussy but she has full, round tits and pink nipples. I take a glance at Steve’s face and it’s flushed, just from looking at her.

“Why don’t you hang it up in your room if you like her so much?” I wonder, lowering my arm down over my crotch. My cocks filling out quick. The girl is hot but the fact that Harrington beats his meat to this photo is the real reason my own dick is getting hard.

Steve gasps and laughs, “My parents would kill me. Plus, I’d fucking get hard every time I walked by it. Isn’t she a babe, though?”

“Oh, yeah,” I muse, looking closer at the spread, “Her tits are massive.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, “But like her face… she’s pretty.”

I wonder about Steve fucking girls. If his eyes are on their faces. I look at their bodies. So I ask him, “That where you look when you fuck?”

“Faces?” he asks, my eyes catch his palm moving down to press against his crotch.

“Uh huh,” I say and because he’s doing it, I also rub my palm against my cock. It makes my eyes roll back. I didn’t even realize how turned on I was until now.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out harshly, “I like to watch how they react. Like the pleasure on their face.”

It occurs to me that Steve and I have sex with girls very differently. It’s more about me getting off, I don’t really care if they do. I’m selfish where Steve gets off on his partner's pleasure. I have to grip my cock through my jeans then. Christ. That’s stupid hot. This is bad. But Steve flips the page and the centerfold is exposing herself. Red acrylic nails spread her folds for Harrington and I to see. My eyes scan the other photos and yeah, this is as nasty as it gets.

“Kinda tame,” I note, “What else ya got?”

Steve chews on the inside of his lip as he reaches for a Hustler. Again, there’s little sticky note bookmarks sticking out of the pages. This is his spank bank. And he’s showing it to me, completely unashamed. It’s way different than looking at Tommy’s collection. Tommy’s isn’t taken care of like this. His pages stick together. And Tommy has more tapes than magazines.

“This one’s nice too,” Steve mumbles as he peels open the magazine, it’s a couple. Guy with a huge cock, girl on him. Reverse cowgirl. Holding herself open for the guy. I can’t help but glance at Steve again. His face is so flushed. And for some reason his lips look… bigger. Begging to be bit. But that’s gotta be my dumb, gay imagination. C’mon Billy. Focus on the porn, not the fucking bimbo of a man beside you. Except Steve’s knee knocks mine and fuck. Alright. We’re doing this.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” I mumble as I unbutton my jeans and shove my hand into them, gripping my cock. Steve seems to take that as a cue and does the same, I try my fucking hardest not to stare at him stroking himself under his jeans. I really try.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Steve’s hand moving under his jeans. I’m setting the pace here so I push my jeans down to my calves, lazily palming myself in my underwear. Steve follows suit and I can’t help myself, I gotta ask.

“What would you do? With that blonde,” I mumble out, moving to cup my balls.

Steve inhales sharply and out of the corner of my eye I can see the head of his cock bobbing up and down against his white briefs. Alright. It’s not a problem. I’ve looked at his cock in the showers. I’ve seen it soft. And it was hanging then. From the small glimpse I’ve got now, there's no fucking doubt that Harrington is packin’. There’s heat in those stupid whitey-tighties. I have to look away because if Steve catches me looking this is all over. Eyes on the porno. That cock is huge. Stretches the woman out. Her face says it all, and well, I’ve learned that’s where Steve looks. Alright, Billy. Look at her face. You can do it. Christ, that makes me last longer. Maybe that’s why Steve does it.

“Ah,” a moan, soft and pretty, slips from his lips and I cannot react. Christ, that was hot. He’s vocal right now, he has to be with girls. Fuck, I can’t think about that. I’ll bust. I squeeze the base of my cock and push my underwear down to my thighs. I spit in my hand and return it to my cock, slow strokes up and down.

Steve whimpers as he tugs his underwear down and exposes himself. I glance. I have to. I have to look. He’s huge. Bigger than mine. Bigger than Tommy’s.

“I’d…” he swallows, “I’d eat her out. I— I’m good at that. I been told.”

I’ve heard. There’s rumors about what the hell King Steve meant and I heard more than once it was about his tongue and not his cock. The thought of watching Steve make out with a girls’ pussy has me squeezing my cock.

“Yeah,” I laugh because I can’t help myself, “You like eating pussy, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh,” he moans, stroking his cock faster like my words are fueling his arousal. This is definitely gay but I don’t care. Our knees keep knocking together.

“You ever make a girl cum? With your tongue?” I’m not entirely curious but I can see this is getting Steve going and I’m inclined to push the boundary.

Steve whines, squeezes the head of his cock and I pretend I’m not focused on him in my peripheral. “‘Course, how d’you think I even got that name?”

I laugh because I don’t really know how else to react. I wonder if he’s done this with Tommy. I have and Tommy and I don’t talk during it. Solely pretending to be focused on the porn but I’m not completely new to this shit and Tommy’s adoration drips from him like grease. It’s obvious the dude’s into me and it’d be so easy to pursue. Unlike Steve. In Steve’s head, this is two straight dudes too horny beyond means, hanging out. Casual.

“Are you about to cum?” he asks and well, his strained voice is what got me there but I wasn’t close before that.

“Yeah,” I gasp and then he busts before I do. Lets it shoot everywhere. Neither of us comment when some of Steve’s spunk lands on my thigh but it’s where my vision focuses as I cum, trying to catch it all in my palm as I do so. Steve pulls his pants up and disappears for a moment. Into the kitchen, I think.

Do it, that gay little voice in my head urges and I swipe up the glob of Steve’s cum that landed on my thigh with my clean fingers. Bring it to my lips and lick it off. It’s cooled by now and it’s salty but not all that bitter. My cock twitches sadly against my thigh and my chest and stomach swell with fucking butterflies. I can’t believe I just fucking did that. I try to look natural as Steve returns and hands me a paper towel and then works to clean up the mess he’s made. He’s neat about collecting the magazines and lugs them up to his room. I get up to throw away the soiled paper towel he gave me and then the two of us sit on the couch and watch TV like that didn’t just happen.

—

Steve shows up at the pool one day. It’s weird. But he’s with that lesbian who takes the title of best friend. Even though Steve spends more time with me. I’m not jealous or anything. She’s gay. Not out but I don’t know, I can just smell it on her, I guess. I can confirm it when she’s dreamily staring at a redheaded girl from across the deck. Must be why they’re here because Steve has a fucking pool. I watch as he schmoozes with a handful of people we knew from school. People who talked shit about Steve to me but smile at him like he’s the fucking bee’s knees. And maybe he is.

His eyes meet mine and I smirk, raising my hand to flip him off. Smack my gum to accentuate the tease. Knowing Steve won’t see it like I mean it. Friendly to him, flirtatious at heart. He returns it, both hands lifted up to gesture at me. Then he follows his lesbian friend to a pair of loungers and I patiently wait for him to strip out of his dumb polo.

I’ve got the closing shift and I wonder if Steve’ll hang around until the end of it. Maybe I fantasize a little bit about fooling around in the showers. Maybe I fantasize a lot about Steve. I can do that as long as I don’t act.

Heather’s at my feet, looks up at me incredulously and laughs, “Harrington’s here.”

“Uh huh,” I poke her side with my toe, “Time to make your move.”

“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes dramatically. “Been there, done that.”

“Yeah? That’s new information,” I scoff, but maintain my smirk to keep it playful.

Heather’s face contorts as she gazes up at me, “Steve’s fucked the entire female population of our graduating class, it’s hardly news that I fell victim to it.”

“Christ, even I have higher standards,” I joke, though it stings. Which is fucking pathetic. He grew up here. Plenty of time to explore his options.

Heather pinches my calf, “Gee, thanks, asswipe.”

“I didn’t mean you,” I kick her softly in retaliation.

Heather is a good friend but she really wants to hook up and doesn’t hide the fact. She’s my type, too. Brown hair with big brown eyes. For some reason, I don’t want to sleep with her. Couldn’t be the boy across the deck. Nah, maybe I just don’t get that vibe from Heather. And I’m gonna ignore the fact that I don’t exactly get that vibe from any of the bitches in this shit hole.

Steve does stay until close but so does Robin. Steve’s her ride. But Steve’s standing at the foot of my lifeguard stand while Robin impatiently waits by the loungers.

“Why don’t you go drop your friend off and we can go do something fun?” I suggest and Steve smirks.

“Yeah? Like what?”

I wanna kick his face because it’s so handsome. I manage not to do so but the urge is still there. I have a couple of suggestions of what fun things we can do but I don’t wanna scare him off so I shrug. “Get drunk. I have tomorrow off.”

“Yeah. Me too,” he says and gazes up at me. “The quarry?”

“I’ll meet you there in an hour,” I tell him.

“Kay,” he smiles before pushing himself off the stand and walking towards Robin. I watch his ass as he walks away. Don’t think Steve’s aware of how big it even is. Kind of unproportionate to his body but it’s… attractive. Like most of him is.

I close up quicker than I should. Skipping stuff I’ll be scolded for later but I’m eager to see Steve again. Always eager to see him and it’s pathetic. I think I need to go on a date to beat down my sexual frustration but I’m worried it’ll be Heather and the whole time I’ll be thinking about how Steve’s been inside her. I think Steve and I are already tunnel buddies as it is.

He’s at the quarry when I get there. He’s on the trunk of the bimmer. Long legs bent at the knee. Changed into jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. He smiles all big when I pull up. Leans back and holds up a fifth of whiskey, shakes it in his hand. We drink too much. We have fun. I like Steve. He’s fun. I don’t get why Tommy hates him so much.

“Hey, pretty boy,” I say as I walk up, sixer in my hand.

We talk about our days, though it was inadvertently spent together. Steve tells me about Robin’s crush. How she’s too scared to talk to the girl I don’t know. But Steve thinks she should just go for it and I get why Robin doesn’t. Because if I took that advice I’d kiss Steve and he’d punch me square in the jaw.

“Truth or dare,” Harrington says before pulling from the bottle of cheap whiskey, grimaces after the shot.

“Truth,” I say ‘cause I don’t trust Steve and I don’t feel like getting up.

Steve hums, leans back against the back windshield of his car and folds his hands over his stomach. He’s deep in thought, I’m pretty sure he had a dare in mind and I’ve muddled it up with going with truth.

“How did you lose your virginity?” he settles on, looking at me with raised brows and smug smirk on his face.

“Huh,” I laugh, shaking my head, “I was thirteen.”

“Jesus Christ!” Steve furrows his brows, looking concerned and maybe he should be.

“She was my babysitter, she was like I don’t know, nineteen maybe?” I continue, “my dad worked a lot. Or drank. I don’t know. He didn’t come home until midnight most nights.”

“Nineteen and thirteen is uh… bad,” Steve mumbles and I ignore the judgment as I continue.

“Anyways, she taught me everything. Started with kissing. Then second base and then third base and uh, one night, we made a home run,” I tell him before sipping my beer.

Steve stares at me slack jawed for a while and it makes my skin crawl so I justify it, “She was a fucking knockout. Huge tits. Fell in love. Then ya know, she started bringing friends around. Before I knew it, I was a fucking Casanova.”

“Wow,” he looks like he’s chewing on it, like he’s not sure what else to say. Things feel weird so I ask him.

“Truth or dare, Harrington?”

“Uh, truth, I guess,” he replies, face pensive but still handsome.

“How’d you lose yours? Wasn’t Nancy, was it?”

Steve laughs, “No, not Nancy. I uh, I was sixteen. It was Heather, actually.”

“No shit!” my eyes widen, shock prevalent on my face, “She literally brought you up today. Didn’t tell me she took your V card, though.”

“I took hers, too,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Summer camp. Awkward. Super awkward.”

“Ya know, Heather said you’ve fucked everyone in our graduating class,” I inform him, knocking my knee into his.

Steve snorts before taking another swig, “That’s an overstatement.”

“I figured as much,” I mumble, turning to look at him. Flushed cheeks. Glassy eyes. I could kiss him but I won’t.

“Like ninety percent of ‘em, before Nancy. I literally haven’t had sex since her. And she and I only had sex twice,” he mumbles, running his palms over his thighs. He looks antsy from this conversation so I pass him a cigarette. Steve takes it hastily, bringing it to his lips and I’m quick to light it with my lighter.

“I fucked Tina at the graduation party but that’s the last time I’ve had sex,” I say and then purse my lips, “Guess we’re tunnel buddies.”

“How did you know I slept with Tina?” Steve snaps his head toward me all indignantly and I cackle.

“You just said ninety percent. Tina’s hot so I figure she’s included,” I explain, lighting up a cigarette for myself.

Steve exhales smoke in my face, then moves to wave the smoke away and I grab his wrist ‘cause he almost smacks me in the face.

“Why are you so obsessed with Nancy if you only hit it twice?”

“I’m not obsessed with Nancy,” he argues.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s more than sex,” Steve mumbles, “I was in love with Nancy. She’s beautiful, first of all and she’s so smart. And like, really strong willed—“

“I’ve heard it all before, dude. I don’t get it but whatever, yeah, you loved her,” I interrupt.

“Haven’t you been in love?”

“I thought we were playing a game,” I divert but Steve’s slick.

“Ok, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me if you’ve ever been in love?” Steve looks smug as he says it. I roll my eyes but I’m impressed, though I should’ve expected it.

“Diane Smith,” I say, “She was my girlfriend back home.”

“Why’d you break up?” Steve asks, flicks the butt of his cigarette with his thumb.

“Couldn’t wait to see what Hawkins had to offer my cock,” I say in an exaggerated low voice. It makes Steve roll his eyes but he laughs. “I’m a man,” I finish and grab my crotch crudely.

He shoots me a bratty look that almost has me confessing I might be in love with him right now. But instead I continue telling him about Diane, “She’s a babe, Steve. California bred. Gorgeous blonde hair. Bleached from the sun. Big ‘ol lips and bright blue eyes.” I whistle lowly and remember I still have a photo of her in my wallet so I lift my asscheek up and pull out the leather, filing through until I find the photo of Diane. She’s in a bikini, sitting on a towel on the beach and she’s smiling bright and pretty at me.

“That’s her,” I say as I pass it over. I know he can’t see it well under the moonlight but it’s fine. “Can’t do long distance. As much as I wanted.”

“She’s pretty,” Steve says, looking at the photo. My chest feels tight talking about her… thinking about her. So I have to be a dick.

I snatch the photo away and smirk, “Much hotter than Nancy Wheeler, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, shut up. Nancy’s pretty.”

“Indiana girls are livestock compared to California girls,” I quip.

Steve shocks me then. Asks me a weird question.

“You think that’s why Lucas and Dustin fought over Max?”

I grip his stupid sweatshirt and clench it in my fist, bringing his face closer, “The fuck are you saying, Harrington?”

“Woah, cool it! It was just a question,” his eyes are all wide and worried.

“Nah, come to think of it,” I shake him, “You never told me what the fuck was going on that night I rearranged your face. You got a thing for my kid sister, Harrington? ‘Cause I swear to god, I’ll fucking kill you right now.”

“No! No! I— Billy, nothing like that, I swear!” Harrington worriedly babbles, eyes looking so scared.

I let go of his sweater but I’m still wired, looking at him all crazy by the way he scoots away and exhales sharply, “I… I was just babysitting.”

“Swear to me right now, you ain’t some fucking pervert, Harrington.”

“I’m not. Billy, I’m not.”

[al-the-remix]

I know nothing about 911 but seeing all the bucktommy posts makes me really interested, if you don’t mind could you give a short introduction of the ship/which episode(s) to watch for them? Thanks!!

Hi! So the ship is a very new one and they don't have a lot of screen time yet, so their relationship only appears in season seven, episodes: 7x3 to 7x6 and then 7x9 and 7x10. Tommy Kinard as a side character also shows up in episodes 2x9, 2x12, 2x14 (in an off-screen capacity) and 2x16.

As for the introduction, the lore with this show runs sort of deep, but as condensed and simplified as I can give it to you: the decision to introduce bi!Buck and Tommy and his love interest was made very last minute (like as the first few episodes of season seven were coming out kind of last minute...) as the tv show switched networks from FOX to ABC and was working with a protracted season, (10 episodes in stead if 18), so this first season you see them together in has a very "let's see how well this works and if the general audience approves of it" kind of vibe.

Obviously, it worked for me! And the general reception has been good. Personally, I find their dynamic fun and genuine; the show runner was aiming for a non-heavy coming out story with a romcom twist, which a think they succeeded at. Buck (or "Evan" as Tommy calls him) is sort of the obvious favourite of the show in the audience and the writer's eyes, he's gotten a lot of development over the years, but has stagnanted recently on the romance side of things and also in his professional development, (which is partly the fault of the writers and partly just bad luck with maintaining actors). So I think a lot of fans are excited to see him "off the hamster wheel", as they say, in the love department. This opens up the possibility to explore other plot lines with him as a character in his professional life and personal life now that hes in a steady relationship.

Tommy we don't know much about yet, other than he was deeply in the closet when we first see him in the season 2 flash-back episodes. He's not initially a very warm, welcoming, and accepting person, but it's implied that a lot of that behavior was influenced by his environment and poor upbringing and he is quick to make amends and befriend the main characters when he's shown to be in the wrong. He used to be in the army, and is a fan of cars, martial arts, and rom coms. The way he talks in the season seven episodes makes it clear that he's done a lot of self reflection since we've last seen him (and since he's come out). He's shown to be an open and honest person who does his best to show up for the people he cares for, and once Buck is in his line of sight, all that attention is turned his way.

I think with this ship what people are most excited about is the potential it demonstrates: Buck as a character is someone who's been on an aggressive misson of self discovery and understanding, he's been actively looking for a romantic partner to have a committed, mature relationship with, he's someone who's willing to give a lot of himself away to his partner and is desperately hoping to have that attention and affection mirrored back at him.

What little we know about Tommy so far makes it clear that he's mature and willing enough to be that person for Buck: if it works out and the writers allow him to be. I just really enjoy what little I've seen so far, and with the show being back to its regular 18 episodes next season and Tommy pretty much confirmed to return, I'm interested and invested and hopefully in where they may take this relationship next.

Also I feel like I need to add if you're going to engage with the fandom specifically for this ship, do it through the #bucktommy tag on tumblr, because it's a real mine field out there right now, lol.