#I feel I have the opposite of same face syndrome

[beardedjoel]

smother - part ii: resistance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: joel knows how to break you just right, to get you feeling helpless enough to accept what he believes you need. somewhere deep inside of you, you think you might like it. 10.9k words (sorry) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is late 40s) masturbation (m), nipple play/groping, manipulation, joel def has a corruption kink, joel gets a bit violent in this chapter, y'all get a lot of touching and (kissing), if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: okay i'm even more nervous about this chapter than the first, idk how it got so long but i really hope its tense and enticing for you all! i love writing dark joel, this has been such a thrill so far tbh! get buckled in for heavy duty smut next chapter too ✌️

Light spills in around the thick, heavy curtains, drawn tightly shut. Just a glowing sliver on the edges and underneath, telling you it’s at least well into the morning, that you’ve been asleep for longer than you’d expected to. Your brain is a scrambled, hazy mess from the way you’d finally been able to pass out, still encumbered by Joel’s grasp holding you down. After a while his heaviness had a calming effect, the opposite of what you’d ever thought would happen when he first came into your bed last night. But now, he was nowhere to be found, the other side of your bed cold and empty, such a stark difference that you start to wonder if maybe you’d imagined it, dreamed it all last night. 

You get up to let some light from the day in, your eyes burning as they adjust and you see that it looks to be late afternoon already. How many hours had you been out for? 

Recollections of the night before flood your brain - Joel’s warmth pressed so close to you, his hard body molding softly into yours like he knew how to keep you safe, take care of you, just like he’d said. Yet there’s still an unease surrounding the thoughts, that he’d made the decision for you, came into your bed and lied. It sends a shiver up your spine, half thrill and half fear as you contemplate what you should do next. Maybe plotting a way to Jackson is the right move, but something about Joel was keeping you here, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet. It was more of a feeling, something indescribable that came over you when thinking about him. 

Could he really save you, like he said? Or was he just a sick old man with a fantasy? One he’d fulfill before tossing you out just as easily as he’d taken you in.

You sigh heavily and sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You finally decide you have to leave this bedroom sometime and face Joel again to see if those same confusing feelings from last night persist, or even to clear the air between you two. You freshen up a bit with a toothbrush and homemade toothpaste that Joel had left out for you before fixing your hair to an acceptable enough level. You creep out of the bedroom, soft and quiet movements with socks padding your feet as you listen to hear what Joel is up to downstairs. No sounds of cookware or silverware clinking on plates, no rustling on the pages of a book, no distant sound of him chopping wood outside again. Until you do hear something. 

A sound almost in between a whimper and a groan, and it’s right there, the door diagonally down the hall from yours. You freeze, brows knit together as you wait to try to hear it again. The next time you hear it, it’s more urgent, more gruff, a loud exhale. Was it a pained sound? You couldn’t quite tell as you walked closer, noticing the light spilling from a crack in Joel’s door out into the dim, windowless hallway. 

One peek through the opening in his door has your eyes widening. A gasp sticks itself in your throat but you clap your hand over your mouth when you take in the sight before you. Shit…

All your eyes immediately focus on is Joel’s cock, heavy and thick, hanging out of his pants in a tight grasp in his hand. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, practically in perfect view through this open sliver in the doorway. His eyes are closed, lost in the moment as he grunts a little bit more. You avert your eyes almost immediately, standing frozen with your cheeks burning. You’re not completely unaware, and you do have an idea of what he’s doing. You can’t help but flick your eyes back to him as another strained exhale leaves his lips, your eyes drifting down to where he’s sliding his hand in quick jerks. His cock is pink and slick as he runs his hand along it, and you start to tune into the lewd, sloppy sounds that it's all making as flesh hits flesh over and over again. You squirm in place, feeling your knees go a bit weak before you finally notice it. 

Your underwear. 

It feels like something screeches to a halt inside of you, everything moving in slower motion for a few seconds as this information sinks in. Joel’s face, turning more red and eyes rolling back as he pumps his cock with your underwear from yesterday in his other hand, a fist tightly wrapped around the material. You shudder, but find the little zing traveling further to a spot right between your legs, making you clench your thighs together tighter.

It’s all so… so… a feeling you can’t quite explain that starts to make your skin hot, and a scene you don’t know if you want to stop watching. You are just curious after all, you lie to yourself in those few seconds of continued peeking on Joel’s private moment.

You sense a difference in his movements, flashing your sight up to his face where his eyes are open now, gaze locked on yours, heavy lidded as a smile plays on his lips. He doesn’t stop, though, like you thought he would, and it practically steals the breath from your lungs. 

“Oh… sh- sorry,” you blurt out, panicky and quiet before you can think about it, covering your eyes with your palm and hastily pulling the door shut. 

Joel can’t stop smiling, a wry, devilish thing as he continues in fast, long strokes on his cock. You knowing exactly what he’s doing in here is only urging him on even more, the look in your eyes as he’d caught your stare on his glistening, ruddy cock making him harder. 

His smile grows when he realizes you haven’t stopped enjoying the show, not at all, despite your appearances of shutting the door behind you. What he realizes you don’t know, is that he can see the shadow of your feet underneath the door, tiny, anxious movements that catch the light and cast shadows. 

If you want to listen, he’s surely not going to disappoint you, another little groan slipping past his lips and he tightens his grip and speeds up, picturing you in his mind. He can practically see it now, one of your perfect little hands clasped over your mouth outside his door, trying not to make a peep, your body rigid as you lean closer to listen. Those perfect little hands that should never have to lift a finger, should always be taken care of. A pulse of pleasure wracks his body at the thought of him being the one to do that for you. 

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely. “Fuuuuck…”

A few more swift tugs on his length and he’s stuffing your underwear right at the head of his cock, thrusting once and cumming hard into the fabric with a loud moan, the only thing on his mind the mental image of you in nothing but these. 

He’s not too weak to admit he’s already completely addicted to you. Your pretty face, the way you’d finally given him those few little smiles yesterday. How you fit so wonderfully in his arms last night once you’d decided that you needed him. Joel knows he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you as his, to make sure you understand just what you need, how you need him. He sighs as he leans back a moment, then stares down at your underwear, his creamy release staining it now looking like one of the most beautiful sights. To paint you with it himself would nearly kill him, send him into a point of no turning back. No, there’s no doubt now that he’s addicted to this… And god help anyone who tries to take it from him, even you.

The moment you hear Joel’s longer, drawn out groan you scurry away, light as can be on your feet and tiptoe down the stairs in a hurry. The mortification you’d feel if he opened the door to you standing there listening in is more than you can bear. You wish you hadn't been curious, hadn’t wanted to stop and stare just to watch just a bit longer. It wasn’t your fault that you felt completely embarrassingly lost when it came to… sex, but you know it was wrong to invade Joel’s privacy like that. He had left the door cracked, hadn’t he, though? Your brain devours the information, barely able to latch onto that train of thought before the next one comes barreling in. 

You pace back and forth in the kitchen, hands wrung anxiously over and over again in front of you. You gaze at the staircase practically every millisecond, waiting for Joel to come down, wondering if he will. You two have to confront this, right? He knows what you saw, and you certainly know what you saw, the image burned into your mind now. All the details seem hazy in your panic, but all you can think about is your underwear in his hands, and how your current pair feel damp now against your own will. You’d felt this before - attraction and arousal - but not like this. You had been so close to everything this time, not just hearing stories or thinking about kissing a boy you thought was good looking. This was a full fledged man, pleasuring himself right in the next room to you. It makes you break out in a sweat, your body hot and breathing shallow as the floorboards creak under your rushing movements. 

You sigh and continue pacing for another moment before trying to make yourself busy by putting on the kettle, maybe to make some tea, something to calm your frayed nerves. If Joel didn’t wind up kicking you straight back out into the wilderness after that debacle, you’d be surprised. Maybe you should think about kicking yourself out to avoid any of this awkwardness. You make a split second decision to grab your things and go, your first steps out of the kitchen interrupted by heavy footfall upstairs, lazily making its way down to you.

You stand frozen, your plan quickly forgotten when you see Joel, moving with confidence, his steps nonchalant and unhurried as he approaches with a satisfied look on his face. Not angry, not embarrassed, just a casual, almost smug look plastered on his features. You look at a spot past him before dipping your eyes to the floor, your face already heated and flushed. He’s wearing jeans again but this time with a plain, moss green henley shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. Another shirt showing off his strong, muscular form, and it’s killing you inside, especially now that you’ve seen just that much more of him. 

“Sit,” he says plainly, finishing his walk to the kitchen table where he pulls out a chair, settling himself down. When you dare to glance in his direction, he’s giving you a look that sends a shudder up your spine, already knowing he’s about to ask much less nicely if you don’t heed his words. Your shaky hand pulls out a chair, perching yourself on the edge, hands holding on to one another for dear life in your lap. You feel like a child about to be scolded for doing something naughty, and you suppose in many ways that’s exactly what’s happening right now. 

“J-“ you start, with Joel cutting you off before you can even get a syllable out. 

“You enjoy listenin’ to that little show? Gettin’ a little peek?” Joel asks smoothly, a hint of irritation but also gratification in his tone. He leans forward onto the table with his forearms pressed against the wood. 

“N-no I didn’t… I mean I didn’t see much. I didn’t hear… I swear. I’m really sorry, that just made things so… uncomfortable…” you ramble on, feeling like a bumbling idiot as you’re sure your body is about to catch fire. 

“Did it?” Joel asks, eyebrow lifted in casual questioning. It makes you stop, your lips sitting parted with words you can’t express, clouded by confusion. 

“Well… didn’t it? I’m - I don’t know what’s… normal… That didn’t feel…” Your eyes search his face wildly, and you know he can see you, trembling like a fawn stood in the clearing of a forest just before it bolts. 

Joel sighs out a long exhale. “Seems like you enjoyed it, standin’ outside my door.” He states it as a fact, not a guess, and your stomach twists as it sinks. How he knows is beyond you, and you can only sit in your shame now, eyes fixed downwards on the table. You’ve never found knots in wood so interesting before as you stay transfixed by the glossy surface.

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Just curious, weren’t ya?” he says, his voice rumbling softly. His hand inches towards you across the table and you finally get the nerve to look up at his eyes. They’ve gone gentler, full of understanding. You’re sure your expression gives everything away, your shock, your intrigue at what you’d witnessed. “Weren’t you?” he asks again, and you finally give him a little nod.

His lips twitch upwards in a wry grin just as the kettle starts to whistle, the sound ramping up rapidly into the silent room. You both stare at each other for a few moments, still processing your answer to him. The screeching reaches a fever pitch, making your skin start to crawl, so you push your chair out in a hurry to grab it off the stove. Joel’s hand shoots out, his large hand snatching your thigh, fingers wrapping around and digging into the flesh through your sweatpants. You halt, your ass plopping right back into the chair as Joel stares at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ve got it,” he says sternly. He waits a moment longer, making sure you’re fully seated and about to heed his words before standing up. The kettle is at a deafening scream, but Joel seems in no hurry, sauntering over to the stove. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the sound tapers off, Joel setting the kettle to the side while he busies himself with reaching up to some open shelving along the wall where you see several jars full of different types of tea leaves. He’s silent, moving slowly, as if to make you sweat it out, and you admit that his plan is working. You don’t know the last time you felt such an odd, burning fear inside of you. Different than facing infected, than being so hungry without knowing where your next meal is coming from. It’s primal, deep down inside of you, meek little claws in a vice grip at the core of you, a burning that travels downward repeatedly, right between your legs. You notice you’ve started trembling without even realizing it.

He brings a steaming mug over, setting it on the table in front of you. It smells mainly of chamomile, maybe some lavender - you see Joel read your mind on wanting something for your nerves. Instead of retaking his seat across from you, he walks around the table, doing a slow, deliberate lap. His feet, although shoe-less, make an impact along the floor, and you feel like each one sounds like a drum along with the way your heart is beating in your ears. He circles back and pauses behind your chair, sliding his forearm across your chest, tucking it close to your neck.

You really were trapped now. Not just by your own mental doing, unable to make yourself leave at the first sign of trouble with this man for god knows what reason, but truly, physically ensnared by his embrace. His arm wraps tighter across the top of your chest, his hand squeezing on the shoulder where it snakes around.

“Tell me…” he leans closer, lips coming to your ear, a hint of a smirk in his tone although you can’t see his face now. “That the first cock you ever seen? Or just the first you seen one like mine?” 

Your head swims, unsure of how to answer. He has you trapped with this question, either answer damning to you. You sputter and scoff out a chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, you say? Which one, honey, c’mon it’s a simple question.” His arm tightens, fingers digging in along your shoulder. “No judgement here, just a curious man, thas’ all.” He says the words as if he’s expectant of a certain answer for you, following a hunch and looking to confirm it for himself. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows you so effortlessly, reads your mind like it’s the simplest thing in the world. You worry he sees right through you right down to your debased thoughts, the ones where you give in to him and these foreign feelings you want to chase.

You shake your head again. “I haven’t…” Your cheeks burn with the confession, hoping he won’t make you actually say the words. You struggle uncomfortably in his grip, his scent invading your senses now as well, mint and leftover coffee from this morning and your stomach burns so hot you think you might be sick now. He responds with a tighter grasp, his arm starting to press a bit on your windpipe.

Joel blows out a breath, the sound nearly grating next to your ear. “Never seen a cock before till today? Till you saw mine the way you did? That so, darlin’?” He sounds amazed, excitement creeping into his voice. 

You swallow hard, fighting back tears, but you nod for him. “Y-yes…” you admit with a shaky voice, willing yourself not to cry again in front of Joel. 

“Oh, hey, hey, that’s okay. Must be an awful lot to see it jus’ like that, no context for any of it…” he murmurs, his voice oozing a sick sympathy as you sense his excitement building. “Shouldn’t have had to see it as a surprise. If it were up to me, darlin’, I’d have made sure it was perfect. Y’would’ve been amazed by the things a cock like mine can do for ya.”

He tuts quietly, his lips grazing along the shell of your ear. You squirm a little, your breathing picking up as you strain against him. You remember how much you’d liked his lips right under your ear last night, how badly you’d wanted to hate it, but here you were yet again, enjoying it. 

“Now I’m gonna ask you somethin’, honey, and I want you to be honest with me, mkay?” Joel says. Your options feel limited so you motion with a nod for him to go on, his arm digging into your throat further when your head bobs down.

“Be honest, now, remember.” He squeezes your shoulder hard. “How old are ya, honey?” His lips graze your ear again and your legs tense, thighs pressing together. You nearly have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the little moan that wants to slip out of you. 

You chew your lip, telling him the truth before you can even think about it too hard. “I’m nineteen.” You don’t know why you tell him the truth, why you give him any part of you, but you do. 

“Hmm,” he murmurs in a low little groan. His fingers brush along your shoulder, across your chest a bit, loosening his tight grip. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart. I appreciate that.”

“H-how old are you?” you ask in return, getting a haughty chuckle from Joel. 

“Older’n you,” he says simply, a little growl caught in the back of his throat as his nose buries itself in your hair, taking in a deep breath.  

“B-but I told you…” you whimper a little as he tightens his hold again, leaning further to press his head into your shoulder and neck. 

“Why d’ya wanna know? Wonderin’ why an old man like me is gettin’ your panties wet?” he asks, amused at your expense, knocking you down just one more peg. 

You blink hard and feel yourself flushing again, warmth radiating throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips. You’re angry that he seems to know every damn thing about you, and you feel like you know nothing about what he’s thinking. “I don’t understand… any of it. Why -“

“It’s all natural, sweetheart. Happens when you find yourself likin’ what I’m doin’,” Joel tells you, voice starting to sweeten like honey. His hand strokes your hair, smoothing the sides. 

“I know…” you bite back, only to feel Joel move his forearm closer to your neck. Your breath hitches. “I just mean… I - I want to know how old you are.”

“You persistent little thing…” He smirks again, looking impressed by you. “I’m in my forties, that’s all y’need to know.” He pauses for a brief second, not wasting a second to keep contact with your skin, his calloused fingertips stroking along the hollow of your neck. They trickle down, gentle and fluid as water as he ghosts along your chest and over your stomach. You shudder and try to keep your eyes open, succumbing to the pleasure of it all - nobody has ever touched you like this, taken their time to feel you out and seem interested in every part of you. It’s a slow, tortuous movement while his arms reach down over you, thick muscles on display, until his fingertips brush along your waistband. They trace back and forth along the crimped edges of the band, tied tightly. He plays with the strings, a clear contemplation to untie them any second. It makes you start to tremble even more, the way you feel powerless and know you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to.

Joel abruptly stops, pulling his arms back before he starts to walk around the chair, standing in front of you now. He doesn’t crouch to your height, standing tall and proud as he towers over where you sit. His fingers reach forward slowly and gently, thumb and forefinger taking your chin delicately, holding it like something he might break. You can finally see his expression, look into his eyes, and they’re a dark abyss full of mystery and that hungry look he’d flashed at you a few times yesterday. 

“Get the sense you’re feelin’ a bit scared right now, hm?” he suddenly asks.

You swallow and then nod for him, eyes barely blinking as you try to keep track of every single movement he makes. His grip on your chin flashes tighter for just a moment before he lets it go, leaving a little red mark in his wake.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach turns as you realize he wants this, wants your fear to permeate the room so he can devour it, to know that he has this hold on you. Joel leans forward, one hand planted on the table next to you, the other coming down to rest on your thigh. He’s tender in his touch, letting his hand soothingly find its way up your leg.

Joel’s eyes bore into you, trying to capture your attention and hold it, but you can barely summon the courage to look into those dark pools, worried they’ll draw you in forever. Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on your shaky inhales and exhales as Joel’s hand rubs your thigh.

“Don’t you like it, sweetheart? Feels good to be touched here, doesn’t it?” You don’t answer him, eyes squeezed shut even tighter, a quiver starting on your lips. You try to ignore the way your body responds to the touch, skin blazing right where he’s touching and that pooling of heat starting between your legs.

“Now c’mon, open your eyes f’me. I want to take care of you, honey. Jus’ like we agreed to last night. You need me to take care of everythin’ for ya, never make you have to worry or lift a pretty little finger again. I can show you everything.” Joel pauses, waiting to see if you’ll heed his command. His hand wraps a little tighter around your thigh, fingers squeezing.

“I said… look at me. Open your eyes. Nothin’ to be afraid of.” His voice has a shake to it from trying to keep it even amongst his building frustration, his desire to have you under his thumb already. You finally brave it, your eyes opening slowly to find a softer smile playing on Joel’s lips as his face comes into focus, just a few inches from yours now.

“I want you all to myself… d’you understand what I’m sayin’?”

You nod. His smile grows, much more foreboding now.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, fingers squeezing your thigh again, brushing his thumb along the inner part, sending a set of sparks hurtling up your spine. “And you’ll stay? Won’t try to get away from me, will you?” he asks, a wicked raise of his eyebrow telling you there’s only one correct answer here.

Your face falls a little bit. “Wh- what would you do if did?” you dare to ask.

He laughs, a mirthless chuckle before he can even stop himself. “Oh, honey, what’re you gonna do? Where’ll you go? You wouldn’t get barely ten steps outside this door ‘fore I got to ya.” His eyes pierce yours before studying your face for a few moments, challenging you. “Best that you don’t even try, yeah?”

You don’t reply, hoping that the fear in your eyes and trembling lips are answer enough for him.

“Come and sit w’me, how about that? I’ve got a few more questions for you.” Joel offers you his hand and you pause, eyes fixed on his tan, rough skin - hands that have worked hard for an entire lifetime. He takes the initiative to grasp your hand instead, giving you a quick tug that has you standing up to start following him. He completely dwarfs you in every way, his hand practically enveloping your entire fist as he pulls you along towards the couch.

You don’t know what otherworldly urge possesses you so suddenly, but you glance over towards the door, then back at Joel before you muster up everything you have and shove him square in the back, yanking your captured hand back in the process. He stumbles forward, your hand slipping from his and you quickly gain your balance and bolt. You reach the front door, fumbling with the lock and knob as you hear Joel grunt loudly behind you. 

“Don’t you understand? There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” he calls after you angrily. You don’t dare turn around as you fling the door open with a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, feet moving of their own accord as you sprint down the stairs and towards the oncoming woods. You can hear Joel’s huffs behind you, both of your shoe-less feet pounding on the frozen earth. It hurts, the cold ground combined with all types of brush and wood littering the forest floor that are now jabbing into your feet with every step. This was stupid, this was a mistake, you’re going to die out here if he doesn’t do it first.

“God… damn… it…” you hear Joel pant behind you, knowing he’s close, that it’s almost over now. You’re weak and frail still, much too slow to outrun a towering powerhouse like Joel. He was right - there’s no fighting it, no escape from here unless he allows it. Maybe it won’t be so bad… maybe you do enjoy the way he speaks to you, the way he’s been touching you… maybe it’ll all be just what you’ve needed. You’ve always wanted more than what you had, wishing for someone to care just a little more, to have a family again.

You lose yourself to an almost transcendent train of thought, letting it wash over you. As if the universe was trying to tell you the right decision, you feel your foot collide with something sharp and you stumble, a sure way to get you back into Joel’s arms. He catches you as you go down, upper arm squeezed into his grasp as his other wraps around and yanks you by the front of your collar, tearing your shirt all the way down to the middle of your chest as he tugs. You’re pulled into his chest with a hard thud before you both go down with the momentum of it all, his body landing on top of yours on the hard, frozen earth.

“God damn it, girl, what the hell you think you’re doin’, huh?” Joel huffs out, arms pinning you down by the wrists as he breathes heavily right in your face. You grunt and struggle, squirming against the ground, but it only serves to help Joel push you into the frosty dirt even harder, his own grunts slipping out of his lips. 

“Like it when you struggle…” he says closer to your ear, leaning down. His lips turn into a chilling leer as he bares his teeth down at you. “But too bad we can't play a little longer, you’ll freeze out here. Get up,” he demands, pulling back and then fluidly plucking your body up off the ground as he stands. He hooks one of his arms through yours and begins drags you, your feet scrambling to keep up with how quickly he’s moving. 

You’d barely gotten far, just like he said you would - it’s only a short distance back to the cabin where he slams you against the wall, clutching one hand around your throat, not hard enough to put much pressure, just to show you he could, if he really wanted to. His body crowds closer as your back presses against the hard, unrelenting wooden logs adorning the outer frame of the cabin. The chill of the air settles in and you shiver, feet throbbing and chest prickling with goosebumps from the frozen air entering your lungs in large heaves. 

“Told ya, girl. You don’t need to go anywhere. All y’need is right here. I can do anythin’ I want with ya, can’t I?” He spits his words out angrily, eyes blazing. His head is cocked, looking down on you with scornful, yet hopeful eyes. His gaze travels to your chest, the way your shirt is torn to almost reveal everything there, eyes flickering hotly on the sight. Both of you stand with huffing breaths, chests heaving and letting out little cloudy puffs of air as your exhales hit the air. 

You nod, whimpering as his grip gets slightly tighter around your throat when you don’t answer right away. Your entire body trembles against him, afraid you’ll collapse any second as your knees buckle. His entire frame is pressed against you, keeping you upright, the warmth of him the only thing keeping you grounded and afloat right now.

“Thas’ right, it’s just me ‘n you out here. I’ll take real good care of ya, never let anyone hurt ya again. Ever.” A hand snakes around to your hair, smoothing it as he pulls your head off the wall, tracing his palm down as he pets you. “Now c’mon.” He yanks your entire body by the waist, holding you close as he hauls you back inside, pulling the door shut behind you two and locking it.

Joel brings you to his original destination before you’d run - the couch - and sits back, pulling you down with him, maneuvering you to settle on his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands wrap around your back in a possessive, tight hold. You squirm a little bit, the feeling of him enveloping you like this making you hot, a sheen of sweat breaking out over your entire body.

“S-stop…” you mumble as you continue to struggle, his hands only seeming to get stronger the more effort you put in. You start to shove and push at his chest and one of his arms comes from around your back to catch your wrists in one fell swoop, pinning them against his chest. 

“Better knock that shit off quick,” he commands, grunting as he continues to hold your squirming body. “You got me offerin’ you everything I know you want, and all I ask is you do what I want, sweet girl. Be here w’me.” His tone is somehow cruel and hard but soft and caring at once, like he really believes that he needs to act this way to care for you right now.

“N-no, you’re hurting me,” you cry out. “You said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me…” You think that maybe your reasoning will have any kind of effect on him, and he only smiles softly. It disarms you a little, your struggle starting to die out as you look at the hidden anger behind the smile, the desire to let out the hidden beast within him. 

“Let’s get one thing clear,” he says, letting go of your wrists to grip your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, squishing them together. Your hands fall limply to your sides, skin burning on your cheeks where he’s pressing in harder. “Only I can make you feel pain. Nobody else. Nobody’s gonna hurt you when I’m around. And I’m the only one who can make y’feel good too, understand? But if you’re not gonna be a good girl ‘n pull this shit, I can’t help what I’ve gotta do to get you back to bein’ good, hm?” His eyes track across your face, awaiting a response. 

You shake your head in small movements, squeezing your eyes shut and squirming one final time to try to slide off his lap. He sees your desperate eyes and his blood rushes a little hotter through him, tugging you harshly to situate you back perfectly centered on his lap.

“Please…” you whimper quietly, unsure of what you’re asking for now. To be let go? To be held tighter? For someone to just make it all okay?

Joel drops your cheeks from his tight grip and looks at you a little more sympathetically. “Okay, okay, c’mon, no more strugglin’ sweet girl. I’ve got you. Not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help ya.” 

He leans forward and his lips find your neck, peppering wet, urgent kisses from just underneath your chin all the way down to your collarbone. It’s all too much, the emotions bubbling up as the adrenaline leaves your body. You shake a little, feeling the now all too familiar sting of tears behind your eyes that quickly manifest as tears that roll down your cheeks. Joel must sense a heave in your chest as you try to hold back your sob because he pulls his lips off of you and looks up to see your eyes shining as tears start to fall at a more rapid pace. 

“Shh, shh,” he coos. Both of his arms wrap around your back and pull you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your head drops instinctively to his body and you find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his neck before burying your face in his chest. 

“Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. Let it all out… shh…” Joel says quietly, his palms splayed along your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing pattern. You finally break completely, finally let yourself sob. Your entire body is wracked with shaking heaves of breath each time you start another wave of tears. You bury yourself deeper into Joel’s chest, your face burning red hot with embarrassment, but unable to stop nonetheless. He’s warm and soft against you, the comforting fabric of his shirt soaking up the tears you pour out. 

Joel continues his soothing ministrations, his hands uncharacteristically kind and sweet, holding the back of your head against him now, like he’s encouraging this, even, this release of emotion from you. It makes you sob even harder to realize the only person you have in this world to comfort you is a man you met yesterday, one who hasn’t shown you a consistent side to himself since then. You don’t know how long you cry for, the last two weeks of pure desperation and the flood of emotions since meeting Joel have all collided into this one meltdown, Joel’s chest taking the brunt of it as you continue sobbing.

“Oh, that’s it, there we go…” he hums calmly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he keeps stroking along your back. You finally start to let up, choking back little sobs as they climb their way up your throat. 

“Jus’ breathe… there ya go, honey. Take some deep breaths for me now, okay?” Joel says calmly, continuing to chant little encouragements in your ear. You turn your face to lay the side of your cheek along Joel’s chest for a moment, a few remaining hiccups shaking your body as you sniffle. Your entire face feels puffy, like everything is two sizes too big for you now, cheeks wet and sticky as your tears start to dry. You slowly lift your head up and Joel quickly catches your face between his hands, thumbs going to work wiping your tears.

“Beautiful…” he murmurs as his eyes scan your flushed, glowing face. His lips turn into a gentle, small smile while he continues to wipe down your cheeks for a moment longer. “Now don’t that feel better?” Joel looks at you with concern now, his head tilting as his fingers continue to stroke along your face. You look so broken and fragile right now - the thought exciting him, sending a twitch beneath his jeans that he doesn't even have the mind to be ashamed of. You're close... so close to being his.

“I g-guess…” you murmur, unable to say if it really does feel much better. You feel lighter now, unburdened of the pent up emotions that had been weighing you down the last few weeks, but you still had to grapple with the fact that you were here now, with a dangerous man who seemed intent on keeping you here no matter what.

“Listen, darlin’...” Joel starts, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You’re too sweet for this world, you deserve to be protected… That’s all I’m tryin’ to say here, to do here. You wanna know what I thought when I first saw ya?”

Your eyes widen in curiosity, letting him go on.

“Thought that the universe sent me a gift. One look at ya and I knew you had to be all mine. Like y’were made for me, I swear it…” he gushes before his eyes go more serious. “I can show you how good it all feels, sweetheart, d’you understand?”

You shake your head slowly. “S-show me how good what feels?” you ask tentatively.

Joel leans forward, his lips brushing along your jawline then ghosting to that sensitive spot under your ear. His breath tickles you in just the right way and you shudder, hating that he seems to have pinpointed your weakness.

“Show you… just how good it feels… to submit to me.” His lips press onto your neck gently, his tongue poking out to taste the salt of your skin. “Show you what your place is here.” He sucks a little harder on your neck, eliciting a tiny sound from the back of your throat. “I’ll give you everything, you’ll see. I can see you want it, sweet girl. I can see how badly you need it.” His hips thrust upwards into yours on his last words, grinding against you slightly. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips kiss your neck again, rough but gentle, as Joel always seems to be. You squirm, your body and mind still mixing signals with each other, unsure if you’re fleeing or giving in. 

You consider his words heavily, the weight of them pressing down on your chest, nearly choking you. It makes your entire body tingle, the way he’d said the word submit, not even fully understanding all of what that would entail. But he’s right, you do need someone, you need something in your life that won’t fail you or run or disappear. You’re desperate for it at this point, needing it like you need air and water. You’ve seen nothing but loss and sadness and lived with a desperation to just be loved and cared for in the deepest ways. 

Maybe it was fate, like he said. Maybe you were meant to stumble into that clearing just at the right time, just when you so fiercely needed everything he’s offering to you. 

He pulls back and stares into your eyes, trying to read the look behind them, trying to gauge how you’ll respond as you sit silently. You feel tears building on the rims of your eyes again, quickly wiping them away before they can fall. 

“Let me show you, hm? How I’ll take care of you.” He thumbs your chin as he stares at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. “We need to get some more food in you, darlin’. Barely ate a thing yesterday.” His bargains immediately begin to work as you notice your stomach rumbling and empty again as if on cue. You nod slightly and he gives you a half smile.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Now hold on tight.” Before you can question him further on why, he’s lifting you up off the couch, and your arms scramble to fling around his neck so you don’t fall backwards. Your legs wrap around his middle for extra support as he carries you to the kitchen table, settling you down on top of it now, legs dangling off the side as he lets go of his grip under your thighs. You find yourself reluctant to untangle your arms and legs from his warm, safe body, but he begins to pull away, heading for the fridge. You watch him with a frown as he bends down, shuffling a bit in the fridge before pulling out an item wrapped in a thin cloth. He opens a breadbox on the counter and reaches in, tearing off a chunk of bread before plating it and unwrapping the block, revealing some type of cheese.

“Sheeps cheese from Jackson. And some bread I made. Should tide y’over till dinner time, don’t you think?” he asks, bringing the plate over. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, a silent command that you follow mindlessly before he steps in between your thighs. One hand brushes along your thigh as he gets closer to you, eyes pasted right onto yours. His near glare is nearly too much to keep focused on as he grabs the piece of bread and brings it up to your lips. You pause, gaze faltering as you scan his face, a little stunned.

“Y’need some food, darlin’. Now eat.” Another command, another test to see how pliant you are, how willing you are to accept the entire package he offered you. You crane your neck forward enough to bite down on the piece, tearing some off as he holds it for you, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes quickly flash back to a satisfied, pleasant look from the darkness that had threatened them moments ago.

“Good girl.” The words burrow in a little more, your thighs tightening against his, sending Joel gazing down with a smirk pulling at his lips. “Another,” he says quietly, holding the bread up to your lips again. You don’t falter this time, taking a quick bite and chewing as Joel smiles down at you, letting his thumb brush across your lips.

“You’re bein’ so good f’me now, what happened?” he says smugly, picking up the cheese and feeding you again. Each time he does it, you take the food more eagerly, Joel stepping closer until he’s pressed against the table, his hips as close as they can be to the apex of your thighs. You can sense the excitement radiating off of him now, the pure satisfaction that you’re not putting up a fight, accepting the care he’s pouring out onto you.

“Now you see how I can take care of you, darlin’? That’s just a small thing, honey, makin’ sure you get fed. Now tell me how much you appreciate it, hm?”

You feel your cheeks warming up at the blatant coaxing from Joel, the way the heat of his body presses so close to you now as his finger lingers on your lip after the last scrap of bread goes in.

“T-thank you, Joel,” you say, quiet and mousy as you avert your eyes downward.

“Oh, such a good girl.” He pets the top of your head down the side, stroking a gentle, long path down to your shoulder. “Feel better now that we got you full?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes, thank you.” Mousy. Quiet. The way Joel seems to like, the way that you can’t help but be when he questions you like this, when his eyes search your depths so intensely. Your heart clenches at just how quickly he’s already worked his way in, has you saying just what you know he wants to hear. 

“Not bad for an old man baking bread, huh?” he asks, winking as he caresses your cheek. You tilt your head down, failing to conceal your little smile in time as a breathy chuckle makes its way out of you. You can sense the lightness fill Joel and the entire room as he notices, cocking his head and leaning closer to you.

“That a smile I see, darlin’? You think it’s funny to call me an old man?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips tight to suppress your smile. “N-no, you’re n-not…” 

“Oh, too sweet, ain’t you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you close again. “Y’know, you’re so pretty when you smile. This old man’d like to see more of that, y’know.”

Your smile falls quickly as discomfort settles in again at the way he’d cracked through your façade just now.  “Why haven’t you just… hurt me yet? Or done what you want with me and tossed me out?” you ask suddenly, blurting the words out before you can think twice about the possible consequences. 

Joel clicks his tongue and lets his lips part slightly, showing his surprise - a rare moment from such a guarded man. 

“That what you think this is?” he asks quietly, forebodingly. The pure control in his voice is a skill that you can tell he’s exercised many times. “Just want to squeeze the life outta you and toss your body out for the damn animals? Or fuck you senseless then turn you to the cold? You really think that little of me after I fed you, clothed you, helped you?”

He doesn’t sound quite angry, but something deeper that takes a minute for you to register - you’ve hurt him. Wounded his ego, made a dent in this brick wall of a man. A power you suddenly wish you didn't have over him.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” you admit. “You scare me.”

He leans forward, his dark irises going icy as he captures your rapt attention with this one single glance. 

“I should,” he spits out with a twitch of his lip. “But only if you give yourself reason to, yeah? I never want to hurt you, sweetness, never.” He goes softer, brushing a finger along your cheek, sending you trembling with a quivering lip. “Jus’ want you to be here w’me, lettin’ me take good care of you, and you do the same f’me. Somethin’ so beautiful here, you ‘n I…”

You sigh heavily, your body slumping in defeat. You’re exhausted, your nerves frayed and mind overstimulated from all of the inconsistencies, the back and forth with him. If what he says is true, if he wants to treat you kindly, give you all he’s promised, you know what he expects in response. You can feel it in the undertone of every word he says, every tiny movement when he touches you. He wants you to belong to him, to have you sucked so completely into his world there’s no going back. To have you fear him and look in wonder at him and worship at his feet and let him touch you and feel you and be completely yours and you be completely his. Your head spins, a dizzy sickness overtaking you at how utterly lost you feel right now. How badly you crave it and are equally repulsed by it. 

You dip your head down, eyes on your lap as you let the wave of churning fear wash over you.

“Eyes up, darlin’,” Joel reminds you, fingers tracing on your thigh to get your attention. 

“I… believe you,” you say, turning your gaze to him again. It’s not an answer yet, not a yes or no or anything at all. A fact.

“I know you do,” he says, a serious expression curling into a smile. “Only say what I mean. Are we clear, then?”

Joel’s face inches closer to yours, leaving just a few inches between you, now. “Y-yes,” you mutter, rapidly scanning over his eyes to try to read anything there but the inky darkness that seems to permeate above all else.

“Good,” he says proudly. “Now gimme a smile, darlin’. Need to see you lookin’ happier ‘round here.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile that seems to suffice for Joel as he carries on, moving until his lips hover just above yours. You notice yourself starting to tremble a little bit, shoulders tightening up, and Joel holds you close as his brows come together.

“You ever kiss a man like me, darlin’?” he whispers, licking his lips.

Your lips part, words failing you for a moment as you contemplate him. Your throat is suddenly dry and itchy as you glance down at Joel’s lips. “N-no…” You shake your head. “I haven’t… haven’t been with… anyone…”

Joel stills completely for what feels like minutes, his lips twisted to the side in a wry smile now. “You sayin’ you’re a virgin?” he asks bluntly, his hands naturally tightening their grip on your back, fingers digging in as they slide a little lower towards your waist.

Your face burns first, then your entire body is set aflame as embarrassment sets in. You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you can sense Joel’s experience, almost having some strange need to impress him with your own, coming up empty. Your eyes look down, staring at the middle of his shirt before you nod once, blinking away a quick sting of tears at your sudden humiliation. 

“Christ,” Joel bites back all the things he wants to say for a moment and tuts as he notices your glassy eyes, scraping his fingers along your back. He tightens his hold on your waist and tugs you even closer so that your hips are flush with his. He moves his lips right next to your ear, making you shudder as they brush close enough to touch for a moment. “Had a feelin’. You have no idea… how turned on that makes me, sweet girl.”

Joel’s crude words have you gasping a little, a breath caught in your throat as you stutter out a sound to try to answer him. His lips press on your neck again, kissing a little more fervently down to your collarbone and then he pulls back, one hand going to your face to cup your cheek. 

“Such an innocent little thing… so sweet…” he murmurs. “‘S okay to touch me, y’know.” Your hands tingle with anticipation as he says that, but you don’t know how to move them, where to move them to, or if you want to touch him.

“I - I don’t…” You shake your head, and Joel captures one of your hands in his, holding it gently and rubbing his fingers along yours. 

“I got ya, I’ll show y’everythin’ you need to know, how’s that sound?” he says, gazing down at you intently, waiting with baited breath to hear your response. 

“You mean…” you ask, cheeks flushing as you’re unable to finish your sentence. Joel places your hand on his chest, spreading your fingers out to splay across the space between his pecs. He nods softly and you wiggle your fingers a little, feeling the planes of his chest, hard but warm underneath your palm. He glances down to where your hand explores a little more, running your fingers gently over to the right side of his pecs, then the left, and smirks. 

“I mean all of it, you sweet little thing. You don’t know how good y’could feel, do you?” Joel breathes a little heavier, his expression losing a bit of its controlled façade, that vague look of craving revealing itself in his eyes again. “I could give you so much… oh, you pretty thing, you need it.” He shakes his head in disbelief of everything he’s learned about you. “Untouched… so innocent…” he says more quietly, his hands finding their way back to your waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband at the back of your pants.

“I’m n-not sure… I-I don’t know -” you stutter as you feel his thumbs touch bare skin before one of his hands trails under your shirt, moving upwards. Your eyes blink a little slower, a flutter of your lashes as his calloused pads scrape along your skin, leaving a blazing trail that tingles all the way to the base of your spine. It pools quickly there, your core starting to heat up as his hand travels higher, the other playing at the hem of your shirt, starting to lift it. Your breath hitches, eyes going wider as your shirt moves, but you don’t squirm, don’t try to stop him.

“Y’do know. I can see you want it, sweetheart, look at how you respond to me…” He breathes in and out a little shakily. “Respond to a man takin’ good care of you…”

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your back almost halfway exposed to the air.

“Think you know what I’m doin,” Joel huffs a stony hearted chuckle. “Just wanna see how pretty y’are, take a peek, thas’ all.”

You shrink back a little, eyebrows pulled close together, shaking your head in small movements. “I’m scared…” you whimper finally, showing Joel the fear that’s been building deep inside of you. You don’t know how to want this, when to know your body is telling you it’s okay. You’ve somehow lost complete trust in any of your instincts, unsure of where along the way that happened. 

“I know, I know,” he purrs, still pulling your shirt higher. His lips dart down to your stomach, where your bare skin is starting to show, kissing sloppily along all the fresh skin he hasn’t seen yet. He starts speaking against your body, kissing in between his words. “Nothin’ to be scared of when you got me though, y’understand? You let me take care of you, and you’ll never worry a day in your life. Be my good girl, my everything. Just gotta trust me.” His nails dig into your back, a sweet, welcome pain, bringing you to the present. It’s too easy to lose yourself to his lips, his touch, his words. Your hand stays steadily placed on his chest, barely daring to move now.

You stare with your mouth open, and at your silence Joel drags his mouth up your chest and to your neck before looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t… know…” you murmur, less convincingly than the other times, an observation that Joel doesn’t fail to notice. He gathers the fabric of your shirt and tugs on the front hem of your shirt, pulling it taut along your back, drawing you closer to him as his lips sit merely an inch from yours.

“Think y’do know,” he says, greedy hands under the front of your shirt now, pulling the hem up. “I’ll be so gentle, honey…” He pulls your shirt up further and you drop your hand from his chest, allowing him the freedom of movement he needs to finish the job. 

“Okay…” you whisper, unsure if the two syllables even resonate far enough to reach Joel’s ears. You start to feel your legs trembling as you see his face registering your one word, the only thing he’d needed to hear. 

“Good girl,” he breathes out, exuding pure elation. “Oh, I’m gonna make you so happy, darlin’, gonna give y’everythin’.” He practically snarls as his hands get back to work on your shirt, lifting each of your arms to tug them through the sleeves, then tossing your shirt aside after it's over your head.

A growl tumbles out of his throat when he takes in your breasts, and you hunch your shoulders up a little more, your arm flying up to cover your chest now that it's exposed. Joel’s hand grabs your wrist, strongly wrapped around it as he tugs it away.

“Don’t have to hide ‘em from me, nothin’ to hide from me now,” he snaps, tossing your arm back to your side. His hands reach up to tease at the swell of your breasts, and you sit half in shock, letting his fingers send tingles across your skin as he explores your chest. He runs errant fingers down along the curves as he stares downwards. Your breath catches when he rubs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples, you back arching towards him as you gasp. 

“So soft ‘n pretty…” He grins, continuing to watch the way his hands work along your skin, a little more rough as he gropes your tits, rolling your nipples just to observe your reaction. The little pinch sends waves of arousal through your body, pooling deep inside of you, making you feel your underwear get damp again. You’re already panting, the sensations he’s bringing out in you so strong that you can hardly contain the little noises slipping out of you as he continues touching your chest.

“I - I’m…” you pant. “Joel…”

He pauses for just a moment, leaning closer and brushing his lips across your cheek. “Know you’re feelin’ good, aren’t ya?”

You nod dumbly, completely awestruck as he pinches your nipples again, sending your back arching and hips pressing into his. It’s maddening and confusing all in one, the way he’s able to work your body like this and make you feel a hot burning starting to blaze across your skin. 

“Pretty girl never had her tits touched, has she?”

You shake your head urgently, a breathy moan pulled out of your throat as he pinches and tugs a little harder on the hard buds. “P-please… stop… it’s too…” you whine, scrunching your face, unsure if you actually want him to stop. You feel wild, feral almost, the strangest sensation pulling at your insides as he tugs one more time.

Joel smirks in satisfaction, going back to caressing you more lightly, giving you some relief. One hand travels down to rest on your hip, the other up to your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. 

“You’re fun to play with, jus’ like I thought you’d be…” Joel muses as he touches your face. “You’re bein’ so good f’me, too, honey. Lettin’ me see you ‘n touch you.” He looks at you almost curiously now, like he’s studying you. 

“Think you deserve a little reward for bein’ so good for me, finally seein’ some sense.” He pauses, watching your face morph into a soft, intrigued look. “How’s that sound, hm?” he asks, pinching your cheek. 

You tilt your head at him. “A reward? Wh-“

“Exactly. If you act like a good girl, gotta reward ya for it.” Your heart beats a little faster as you take in his words, your thighs clamped as his voice comes out low and teasing. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his fingers around your cheek and pulling you closer as he leans in. “You deserve to feel good, do you realize that? You’ve been denyin’ yourself somethin’ so good, but turns out it was so that I could show ya.”

“I - Joel - I don’t know…” you blurt out, your stomach twisting. The fact you can barely say anything but those same three words over and over is starting to frustrate you. 

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” Joel replies, his hand now cradling the back of your head. “You’ll enjoy this.”

He leans forward again, completely closing the gap between the two of you as he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, testing you, and you blink once in surprise, not able to force yourself to press your lips back into his at first. But your body naturally starts to melt into him a little, his hand stroking against the back of your head calming you into submission. Your hands twitch forward, gently touching the bottom hem of his shirt and holding onto it just slightly. The feel of the fabric grounds you as you feel your lips press back into Joel’s, sending a wave of heat over your body. Your cheeks burn and your skin prickles as he groans quietly and pushes his lips a little more aggressively against yours before pulling back slightly. 

He looks down at you with a smirk. His hand digs into your waist a little harder, the possession he’s feeling clearly evident. 

“Tastes sweet, darlin’,” he says quietly before leaning back in, kissing you again. Your hand tugs a little harder on the bottom of his shirt and you feel yourself cracking under the pressure, like you’re about to burst into a million little parts like a piece of dropped china.  

His mouth opens and invites you to do the same, so you follow his lead. You’re frustrated, unsure of yourself, not understanding the way your body just moves with his, mirroring his motions. 

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe your first kiss is supposed to feel just like this. Maybe you’re supposed to be afraid and unsure and terrified yet intrigued in a way you can’t ignore. You wouldn’t know any different, after all, and your body already yearns for Joel to keep going, to press his lips harder onto yours, to feel his warm, soft lips all over you. You don’t even quite understand where the thoughts come from, it’s like your body is telling you without your mind having to get involved. 

You open your mouth the tiniest bit, allowing Joel to kiss you deeper. He pulls back just enough to suck a little on your bottom lip and you whimper and your brows scrunch. How… how could it feel so good?

As if to send you asking that question a hundred more times, one of his hands skates his fingers up your spine and you shudder, falling apart just as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You nearly gasp but find your own tongue hesitantly brushing against his. He hums quietly in satisfaction, continuing the motions of his tongue with small variations - darting into your mouth, licking your lip. 

You feel your entire being aching and warm now with the way Joel is pressed as close as he can, hips flush with yours. You want to move your own hips, to push them further and further, your body urging you on again without telling you quite what it’s doing. 

You yank your head back, completely breathless. Joel’s hand scrambles to the back of your head, holding it in place as he devours your lips again, not letting up just yet. 

“Wasn’t done w’you yet…” he mumbles before kissing you again, his tongue and lips more aggressive now as his hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping tightly. When he’s had his fill he tucks his head back enough to get a read on your expression, smirking. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the confusion, the struggle, but he welcomes it all, now. He knows he has you - his prize, his to keep, his to take. He can practically feel the ache of want oozing out of your pores now as you sit trembling slightly on the table, your soul and tits bared to him, equally enticing. A perfect paradox, he thinks.

You look so perfect - like a pure, innocent angel sent just for him. He knows you can be exactly what he’s looking for - someone to call his own, to protect and guide and keep close to him. His perfect girl.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and musk like it’s the last time he’ll ever get a chance to before his lips rumble against you. 

“Lemme take you upstairs, show you how to be mine," he offers, in a way that's not an offer at all, but an instruction, a test.

He’s quiet and seductive with his words, a low, gravelly lilt to his voice that makes your head swim. You’re hazy, a practically drunk feeling coming over you now. You’d tried alcohol once, and you remember feeling a bit like this - cloudy and out of control of your own body. 

Before you can stop yourself, body buzzing and lips puffy and parted in need, you nod for him.

reminder i have no taglist now! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs!

[shamelessfaceless]

Love, Pain, Death, Repeat II

Navigation | Marvel Masterlist | Part I

Pairings: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader, Billy and Tommy Maximoff x Mom!Reader, Agatha Harkness x F!Reader (platonic)

Summary: Why can't you understand? You were hers, and you will always be hers. You are her solemate. What you don’t understand?

Warnings: Dark!Wanda, mention of cheating, mention of death and suicide, stockholm syndrome (not sure about this one)

Wc: 1550

A/n: Im looking for beta reader (i dont have friends for this😔).

Btw If you saw other post i published before this.. NO YOU DIDNT. It was a dream, and lets keep it that way <333

“Boys, go downstairs, I think mommy doesn't feel very well and I need to take care of her today.” Her voice is soft, opposite of what you heard last time you saw her.

Your kids, you assumed, get off you. One in a green shirt whispered something to the other one, and they started running. They looked like a perfect mix of you and your ex. Something you really wanted to have. Even as you were younger you always wanted to have your prince charming, and few kids. After a few years, the only thing that changed was prince to princess.

“Why I am here? Is this hell?” After learning that Wanda cheated on you, you started feeling like you don’t deserve love or even kids.

“Aren’t you happy? We can have everything we want here! No Natasha, no Vision, no other people we know.” You looked at her disgusted. She made you believe that you’re not enough, and now she wants to build a dream, more like a nightmare to you, about you and her and your kids.

“Why me? Why not him?!” In a second she was next to you, her hand on your mouth.

“Keep that mouth of yours quieter. We Don't want boys to be suspicious, right?” Her green eyes always made you melt, and she kept her hand on your face. You wanted to give in, but decided to push her away. “Behave” She mumbled sitting next to you.

“Tell me, why me? He truly loved you, as much as a bunch of wires could love someone.” She started stroking your hair.

“It was all just about mind stone, it was all that made me interested in him. I needed to understand this, you are my true love.” Tears falling from her eyes. You couldn’t decide if they were real, or she only wanted to make you forgive her.

You faced the wall not wanting to look at her any longer. She left without saying anything more, after a while she came back and left breakfast on the bed. You were scared to eat it. Who knows if she didn't poisoned it. After a few days of staying in the room and only going to the toilet you decided to finally go to the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat and come back to the bedroom. You started learning her routine, most of the day she wasn’t at home. Taking boys to the school, and going straight after that to work. Boys.. Tommy and Billy, you learned their names yesterday, are coming back from school by foot. Wanda always comes back in the evenings. You need to share bed with her. Feeling her hands on your body makes you feel disgusted and at the same time safe.

“Mommy! Do you feel better now?” Little boy asked. You feel teats building in your eyes, as you looked in his own, almost the same color as yours. Every look at boys is tearing down your walls. Every look at them makes you question what you protect yourself from?

“Yeah Tommy, Mommy feels better now. Do you and your brother want something to eat?”

“Mom was giving us money to buy food at and after school.” He confessed. “But.. Today I bought something else.

“ Tom…”

“But wait!” He runned to his room and came back as fast as he could. Holding something behind his back he looked at you with puppy eyes. “Please don’t be mad, I just… I wanted to buy you this! “He gave you a few flowers. Your favorite flowers. “I wanted to make you feel better, and mom told me you love these!”

You wanted to cry really hard. Feeling a knot in your throat you decided to kiss his forehead and take flowers. You put them in the first vase you saw and started searching for things for pancakes.

When Wanda came back home, the first thing that hitted her was the smell, and just a while later boys came running to her, mouths full of food, and telling her you made them pancakes. She smiled nodding at their words. Everything she could think of was you, and how close she must be to finally break you.

Day after day, you were getting closer to the boys. To Wanda you were closer to breaking point. You even started making dinners for boys. For them you even started learning how to cook. After a few weeks of making dinner only for them you also started leaving something to eat for Wanda. You could not talk to her, but you didn't want her to make herself food after a long day of work, and the voice inside your head wanted her to tell you how good your dishes are, how proud of you she is. Today you decided to bake pizza. Boys wanted to help you but it ended up in flour fight.

“And how will I clean it?” You asked looking at Tommy who has all his hair white, and Billy who has his face in white powder.

“Well, mom can help!” Said Billy.

“Well, maybe I can.” Her voice made you shiver. You looked at the clock, she was home earlier. “Boys, go clean yourself before you eat, maybe we can even watch something together.” They hugged her and speeded to the bathroom.

You wanted to call for them to come back. Staying with Wanda in one room was the last thing you wanted to do right now. After the conversation on the first day you woke up here, you never talked. You didn’t want to hear her voice, you were scared. Not only things she could say, but you could actually brake and fall in her arms.

“What do you say sweet girl, want my help?” She gets closer to you. “Or you maybe want to help you also with something else?” You felt her knee between your legs. Oh how long you weren’t touched down there. Knocking on the door saved you from answering. Wanda only huffed and went to see who disturbed her.

“Hey sweetie! I just wanted to ask if you have some sugar. You know, it's late, and all the shops are closed.” After a while an older woman came into the kitchen.

“Love, why don’t you give our neighbor some sugar.” Wanda said. You only nodded. After a few seconds you were handing a stranger a cup of sugar.

“Thanks honey, oh, i forgot to introduce myself, Im Agatha” She said sweetly. You felt hope, maybe she also knows this world is fake. Maybe if you and her get to know each other you could stop Wanda. You saw a spark of hope and didn’t want to give up not now. But Wanda answered faster than you could think about anything you could say.

“And that's Y/N, she's not very talkative, selective mutism.” She lied without stuttering. You hated her almost the same as you loved her. You couldn't fully hate her, everyone but not her.

You looked into the woman's eyes with a pleading look. You didn’t care Wanda could see that, you only hoped Agatha would understand you. Soon the dark haired woman left and Wanda was again next to you. Her face is millimeters of yours.

“What would you say If I give you another child, hm? You weren’t here when boys were small. “Her lips are almost touching yours.”

“Ew! Moms!”

You were glad Billy finally came back. Thanks to your luck for saving you from Wanda twice. Rest of the evening went nice. You fell asleep while watching a movie. Every night you hoped that she would spare you, she would finally give up and let you be free. Oh how wrong you were. Wanda had plans for you, she needed her pretty girl, and no one could change her plans.

Agatha came a few times when Wanda wasn’t at home. You talked to her trying to see if she also knows if this whole world is fake. When you weren’t sure and asked her about this, she said she knew very well about what Wanda did, she wanted to save you. And she tried. You had everything planned, everything seemed so easy. But one day Agatha disappeared. She no longer came to your house, she wasn’t at home. After a few weeks new neighbors moved in. 

And the day when you couldn't take it anymore came earlier than you expected. When Agatha wasn't there anymore you lost your last hope. No one could help you. There was no one else knowing about what Maximoff did. When you opened your eyes and saw the mother of your childs getting ready to work you had decided. Slowly going behind her you hugged her. 

“Thank you for what you did for us Wands”

[thecuriousquest]

B2 & Hawks

-🧼

The Scent of Another Man

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @palesweetscherryblossom @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, non con briefly mentioned, isolation punishment mentioned, spanking threat, nudity, sexual punishment?, possessive tendencies, controlling tendencies, aggressive behavior, abusive behavior, threatening harm upon Reader, hair pulling, breast slapping, marking Reader, Stockholm Syndrome

Request: “We won’t stop until you’re so covered in my scent no one will dare touch you again.”

Master List

Yandere Alphabet Prompt

—————————————————————————

Keigo Takami is known for many things. He’s the No. 2 pro hero of Japan, he’s a charming guy, he’s rich as hell, and he started his own agency at such a young age. Those are just a few off of the long, long list.

You know Keigo for something that nobody would ever even consider. He’s fucking territorial. This man somehow always knows when you’ve been around another guy. It’s like he can sniff it out. You could just brush your arm up against the opposite gender on a bus, and when you come home, Keigo will be all over your ass, interrogating you about why you smell like another guy.

Ever since you blossomed into a more willing partner, one who shows him incredibly genuine love and devotion, he has allowed you to go outside under certain conditions. One, you must always have your phone and location turned on. Two, if Keigo calls, you must always answer. Three, you’re only allowed out until five o’clock pm. Four, you are to tell Keigo where you’re going and who you’re going with. If he doesn’t approve of those two things, you aren’t going at all. Five, you are to contact Keigo and only Keigo if something bad happens.

On the train, your phone died, and you happened to have been seated between two males with pretty heavy body odor. That’s what leads you here as Keigo grabs you by your hair and berates you in the kitchen, threatening to press your cheek against the hot griddle of the stove.

“Am I not enough for you? After all I’ve done to protect you, to give you a lavish life?! You’re going to throw all of that back in my face?”

You know what will happen if you don’t answer him properly. Sniffling from the threatening heat against your face, you groan and cry out with a heaving chest, “Keigo, I’m sorry! You’re enough. You know you are! I love you, I can’t live without you. Please, Keigo!”

You can’t hold onto him with the angle you’re bent at over the stove. The only thing you can grab is the handle to the oven, so you clutch it desperately, knuckles turning white from the harsh grip.

“KEIGO!”

You feel like you’re about to vomit as he presses your face just a bit closer, but it’s all too close at the same time. You’re a short hair away from him marring your face.

“What do I have to do to make you get it through your pea sized brain that you’re mine? You’re my girl!”

“I am your girl! Keigo, I didn’t do anything. Please? Please, let me go?!”

Your tears fall onto the griddle, splashing and sizzling as it begins to evaporate. The steam hits your eye, and it only causes more to surface upon your lashes.

He pulls you up and turns off the knob, ending the torturous heat to the stove. Keigo grabs you by your jaw with an iron clasp so tight you’re sure he’ll leave finger print sized bruises. The dew drops lingering on your eyes rolls down over his hand, and he smirks at you, licking the salty droplets.

Your boyfriend’s lips are so close to yours. You can’t turn your head away from him, and with your back to the oven, you have nowhere to go. It must be a natural instinct to him to trap you like this, giving you zero options of a way out. By now, you can’t even tell if this was something he did on purpose or if it’s just so ingrained in his psyche that it’s intrinsic to him.

Snuffling like a kid with ugly sobs, you clutch his jacket.

“Please, Keigo, please, believe me! You have to believe I’d never do anything like that to you. I’d never go against you like that! I love you so much, Keigo, please?!”

You feel as though your knees might buckle with how little energy you have left.

His grin widens seeing you beg for him. It’s the music of a seraph choir to his ears with a harp in accompaniment. Fucking beautiful.

“What are we gonna do with you, songbird? Am I gonna have to bend you over my knee? Lock you up for a day or two?” He tilts his head as he teases you.

You don’t realize he’s mocking you though, so you cry even harder and plead, “No, please, Keigo. I’ll be good!” Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and there’s no way you could keep standing if it weren’t for the grip Keigo has on your jaw.

The pro hero tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, taking his time to answer you, letting the tension weigh in the air for his amusement and your torture.

“I know what I’ll do. I’m going to come inside of you and on you until we get rid of the smell of other men. We won’t stop until you’re so covered in my scent that no one will dare touch you.”

It’s not the worst option, but your lip still wobbles at the thought. Obediently, you nod your head. You don’t fight Keigo as he puts you over his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom, clutching his jacket for balance.

You have to remind yourself that he does this because he loves you, because it’s what’s best for you, so you sigh as he strips your body down to bare skin before doing the same to his own. His hero costume lays on the floor next to a pile of your own clothes, and he crawls on top of you, pinning your arms down. Keigo kisses, nips, and sucks on your neck, leaving all types of marks as he slots his hard length between the plush of your thighs and presses himself inside of you.

He manipulates your knees, pushing them up to your chest. It’s a comfortable position for him that you’ve come to find out.

You remember in the beginning how you used to fight him so much, how he used to have to hold you down or even force you on your stomach to make things easier. All of that changed when he delivered the very first severe punishment which you later found out lasted two months. You remember how he locked you up, gave you little food and water to survive off of, took away every single comfort he afforded you since you moved in, and paid very little attention to you.

Now, Keigo is the light of your life, and when you make him mad, you need to be punished. Being disciplined makes you feel better, and that’s all he’s doing. He’s in the process of forgiving you. His forgiveness is all you want.

So as he pushes deeper and deeper inside of you, you whisper and moan how sorry you are, how you’ll be better, do better. You try to reassure him with every desperate thrust inside of you that your body is his body, and he can do with it as he pleases.

You just want him to be happy with you.

Pearlescent rain drizzles from your glossy orbs, soaking your red cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping and praying that you’re pleasing Keigo. He doesn’t stop short of groping your tits, ass, and thighs. He marks you up with bruises, navy and indigo. He smacks your panting breasts, painting them the brightest red found within a sunset.

But you deserve it. If this is what it takes to regain his favor, you’ll put yourself through it all.

Keigo fulfills his promise of coating your insides, as well as your body, with come. He makes sure you’re dripping with the slick ropes of his seed. He sniffs you, just to test it out. His lips curl into a dark grin, golden eyes taking on a brownish hue as he tilts his head until you see nothing but shadows surrounding his eyes.

“Good, can’t smell any other fucker on you now.”

Coated in sweat and multiple orgasms, Keigo settles down behind you on the bed and pulls you into his chest.

Your pussy throbs from when he milked your sweet cunt down to the very last drop. Your walls are sore, they feel like they have been thrashed with how much they burn. You’ve been rubbed raw, both edged and overstimulated by the hero right behind you. You can’t help but shudder from his hands as he moves you closer to him. You want to cry out, but you shove that want down deep. You don’t dare vocalize the pain you’re in.

“You’re not mad at me, right?” You ask tentatively, too weary to look over your shoulder to gauge Keigo’s emotions.

He nuzzles your ear with his nose and moans a soft sigh. “You’re good now. Love you.” He places a lingering kiss on the crown of your head.

“I love you too, Keigo.”

[writing-for-life]

Nuance in (The Sandman) Fandom

Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!

I thought a lot over the past few days, partly prompted by discourse on here, partly due to a couple of “interesting” asks and messages I received (the type you don’t answer). I *think* they might have been prompted by engaging in discourse on topics like anti-blackness/racism, misogyny/sexism, TERF characters etc in The Sandman.

Fandoms are always getting super sensitive if someone shines a critical lens on their favourite works, authors and characters. So to make this clear (in case it isn’t already obvious from my brain-rot blog):

I love The Sandman. I love Neil Gaiman. I have an extremely soft spot for Dream (and Desire btw, who deserves a lot more character analysis than just being summed up as “villainous, sexy bitch”. One day, perhaps ;)).

I can read The Sandman and just get lost in the story, even after decades and many rereads. 

But I can also view it through a critical lens—these things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Not critical enough or too critical?

As fans, we can get trapped in certain thinking patterns, like:

“My blorbo can do no wrong”-syndrome 

“Characters with flaws are inherently problematic and imply authorial endorsement of those actions” 

“Characterisation and problematic subtext are one and the same” (aka overanalysing and looking for problems where there are none is the death of every story, but failing to see problematic patterns where they are clearly visible is a problem, too).

Don't say anything bad about my favourite character

I think this doesn’t need much further exploration. It’s not my personal way of looking at stories through permanently rose-tinted glasses (I always feel it stalls my experience, but my experience is not everyone else's). Some people prefer that type of escapism, and I’m good with that (although the downside is of course that by not willing to engage with issues, we can unwillingly perpetuate them). Live and let live, ship and let sail. But please, for the love of god: Don’t insult people via their inboxes or messages just because their opinions and preferences don’t align with yours. I’m not going to sugarcoat it or phrase it “nicely”: It’s infantile (and a form of bullying btw), end of.

How can you even like a character who's so horrible? And that author must be equally horrible, too

We have to separate flawed characters, even those who are written to be really problematic, from real-life endorsement of these actions. 

Author, narrator and character are three fundamentally different things, and don’t overlap as much as some people seem to think. 

We can write vile, despicable characters to make a point (for me, Thessaly was always a prime example for this, and I explained why here). We probably hate them as we write them. I don’t know what else to say, but this facet of writing seems to get more and more lost on people, and it’s a worry. Crying for sanitised characterisation is one step away from censorship. We explore what is problematic about people and humanity through story. That’s how we process and learn. It’s nothing new, but it becomes impossible if we can’t write flawed and even disgusting characters. 

Face value…

Since I’m mostly in The Sandman fandom, I often read that its ending is hopeless, and that’s supposedly the entire message. 

It is agonisingly sad, yes. But is it truly hopeless? I personally see it as quite the opposite, but of course that’s my opinion, coloured by my life experiences.

I also get that show-only fans often haven’t read the comics, or at least not the whole arc. And as such, their outlook from what they’ve seen so far (and choose to focus on) has to be different by default. I also understand that many people are quite new to the comics, even if they have read them in their entirety. I’ve sat with them for 30 years, and I still find new things on every reread (and I read it more times than anyone should 🙈), and I still don’t feel like I’ve understood it all. Perhaps because I still haven’t fully understood myself (and it’s unlikely I ever will). If there’s one thing The Sandman isn’t, it’s one-dimensional and easy to grasp in its whole depth.

I just wrote a ginormous meta on it, if you’re interested, it’s here:

Subtext, (not so) glorious subtext

This is where it gets complicated:

We shouldn’t mix up characterisation and story subtext. Overanalysing every line to death will always make us find something that’s “problematic”, when it really isn’t in the wider context of the story.

Zooming in is NOT always a good thing. Sometimes, we actually need to zoom out. 

But subtext *can be* (accidentally) problematic. Even in stories we love. And none of this negates what I previously wrote.

Stories have real-life implications of sorts, and we need to be able to talk about it. That’s where those slightly flabbergasting, hostile inbox messages come in, and I want to expand on that "topic of contention" a bit:

Neil himself confirmed that the Endless basically warp reality, and that this is why, after Dream’s failed relationship with Nada, many black women in his vicinity suffer terrible fates (Ruby and Carla in particular). And that this spell is only broken when he dies, and that it is the reason why Gwen doesn’t suffer the same fate. And said Gwen then gets used as a plot device to basically absolve Hob (who canonically really is a problematic character, whether show-only fans like it or not) from his slaver past. Once again, very clearly: No one is making this up. Neil confirmed it (for the comics, and that was over 20 years ago. It remains to be seen if his stance has changed as we move into that arc in the TV show).

I don't think it is correct to imply that Dream as a character is racist (I've read that, too) because he logically can’t be. He holds *all* the collective unconscious. He is also, strictly speaking, not white. He is everything and nothing, and he shows up in many different ethnicities throughout the whole arc, depending on who looks at him. But Neil played with a subtext here (reality warping due to a bad relationship which then affects everyone with similar physical traits) that will read very differently to a black person than it reads to a white person, and we have to understand why that is an *extremely* slippery slope.

Plus, we are supposed to see Hob, who *was* a racist at some point (you can’t not be if you’re a slave-trader—it’s impossible by default) as redeemed. And yes, he *does* regret deeply, good for him (and if I were saying this aloud, you would hear the sarcasm in my voice, because it is indeed all about him. We are to sympathise/empathise with him and his character growth while there isn’t much mention of the people he maltreated). But also: it was a black woman who basically forgave him (with dialogue that personally makes me cringe). And that black woman who offers forgiveness is not truly a black woman—she is a character written by a white man. And as much as author and character are not the same (see above), there is an inherent sensitivity in that power imbalance that we can't brush under the carpet.

I don’t think Neil is racist. Probably quite the opposite, and I can even see that his intentions were good from a storytelling point of view. BUT intention and impact are two fundamentally different things, and telling the story this way (comic version) betrays blindspots only white people have. Just like women have blindspots when they tell stories about men, and men have blindspots when they tell stories about women (and there are a few of those in The Sandman, too). And and and…

As storytellers, we can’t always speak from lived experience. It’s impossible. And that also means we occasionally make mistakes that look bad in hindsight, even if our intentions were good.

I guess the proof is in the pudding: What do we do when people who *have* that lived experience tell us it looks bad? If they inform us why it is hurtful, plays into old stereotypes etc?

Are we willing to listen and yield (both are the foundations of allyship btw), or are we insisting that our viewpoint as someone *without* lived experience is right? That lived experience extends to all lived experiences (sex/gender, sexual orientation, age...), and from all we’ve heard from Neil so far, it seems important to him to rewrite what he sees differently today. Whether they’ll always get it right for the show—we’ll see. At the moment, it looks a lot better than in the comics, and certain issues are already being handled with a lot more sensitivity, but a few problems remain.

Pushing back on criticism that comes from people with lived experience is problematic—I’d encourage us to think about what it looks like if a white majority in the fandom is basically saying that the opinions of POC are essentially “overreactions” (and yes, that happened).

It’s complicated. The Sandman was written in a different time, and I think we have to distinguish between things that weren’t really problematic at the time but have aged poorly (again, Thessaly springs to mind, and I have lived experience as a queer person during that time, so I can see it in context while at the same time acknowledging that I would make changes to bring it to the present day), and things that were always a problem due to blindspots. They were a problem in 1990, and if they don’t get changed, they are still a problem today.

This fandom is generally so much more open and nicer than others I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s infallible, because it’s full of humans. 

Nuance is sorely needed, in both story interpretation and interaction between said humans.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Fargo s5 Episode 8: Manipulation and Codependency.

I am UNWELL after this last episode. I have so many thoughts. What it says on the tin, this is just me processing my reaction to the latest episode so if you are not caught up, spoilers will be found within.

Let’s start with the lady of the hour. Miss Dot. Miss Dorthy Lyon 👏🏾 Put some respect on her name. This character is endlessly fascinating to me. She’s incredibly complex. Almost over powered in one sense, but also incredibly fragile. We’re seeing now in clearer detail what an accomplished manipulator Dot is. She’s not just a fighter. She’s not just hiding and masking her trauma. She is actively playing the people around her and moving them around a board in her mind. The same way Roy does. The same way anyone in a position of power does, honestly.

Roy and Loraine and people in general, we seek control over others out of a place of insecurity, in order to make ourselves feel safe in our little worlds. Survivors of abuse are particularly good at this, and it’s something I am so glad to see the narrative touching on. The media likes to paint victims with cinderella syndrome. They are often childlike innocent caricatures who are endlessly kind and pure in the face of unjustified cruelty, purely so that audiences will emotionally attach to them quickly and feel whatever amount of fear and revulsion the creator wants for the antagonist. But the reality for real people who suffer domestic violence and other forms of abuse is that they’re just people. They have the same potential for good and bad and selfishness, they developed unhealthy coping mechanisms and they learn to play the game just like everyone else. And when you live your life in fear, you have more incentive than most to get good fast at controlling your surroundings.

We see another example of this in Karen this episode. Roy’s current wife is no stranger to her husband’s violent temper and is very aware of the danger he represents. When he’s humiliated in spectacular fashion and likely to lose his election, there’s this palpable tension in the air as the family rides home. We know heads are going to roll, and from the look on Karen’s face so does she. When she first opened her mouth I was so scared for her. lol I wanted to reach through the screen and shake her, like “shut up! That man will kill you.” At first I thought she was being hopelessly naive, saying exactly all the wrong things to try and comfort Roy that were only pressing on the wound. BUT THEN! Then we watch her turn it on Dot. She calls her a curse, playing into Roy’s belief that there are scales to be balanced in order to make the world right again, and pointing out that all of this only happened when Dot came back. She basically says, Dot’s the reason you have bad luck not me. Go hurt her and not me. And then he does. It’s brilliant.

I was on the edge of my seat watching Dot desperately try and hang onto her world. Everything from her name down to who gets to remind Wayne to take his Lactaide medication, using anything and everything at her disposal to do it. When Roy isnt impressed by being reminded he married a child around his own son’s age - oh please, she had hair and her period so she wasn’t a child - she switches tactics quick as a whip and leans hard on Roy’s family man ideals. She relentlessly forces him to confront the contradictions in his actions by reminding him he is destroying a family. Finally, when that fails too she delivers a violent threat. You will do as I ask, or I’m going to hurt you. The writing here was so masterful. They are opposites. We’re rooting for her, and yet, they mirror each other. Dot has been using manipulation tactics she learned at the hands of her abusers to carefully curate a place where she feels safe, and now that it’s all crumbling around her she’s finally starting to see it for herself.

Her scene with Gator was particularly poignant. Because when he comes in, he’s subdued and we get the feeling that he’s there (whether he’s going to admit it or not) purely because he wants to see her. Her, the big sister who used to comfort him while he watched his father abuse his mother. Who then replaced his mother and became his father’s wife while his own mother seemingly abandoned him. The way she plays him in this scene is so heartbreaking to watch but also incredibly insightful. She knows why he’s here: because deep down he wanted to see her. She dances back and forth between playing on their buried bond ( “I didn’t tell the FBI anything” implying, she wouldn’t tell them anything that would hurt him) and plucking on his insecurities (you’re sloppy, you’re weak, you’re a fuck up and your daddy doesn’t love you).

But the biggest card that Dot tries to play is Linda. She tells Gator that she saw her and tries to bring him into her fantasy that Linda got out and has healed from her trauma. That she loves him and never meant to leave him, and that everything will be okay if he just helps her get out. She can take him to his mother and they can leave all of this behind him, and he can finally be free to be the person that deep down she knows he wants to be. And I just love the way this scene was played. Because while it is tempting to believe that Dot is purely just confused from the accident and the sleep deprivation, the music lets us know that more is going on here. We hear flutes, specifically those played by snake charmers. Gator is the snake, and Dot is hypnotizing him before our very eyes. This isn’t the first time Gator has been connected to snake imagery/symbolism either. When Dot decides to tell him why he’s not named Roy after his father, she likens him to a pale little lizard. @tdciago did an excellent post on some of the symbolism we’ve seen in the show thus far, and it really emphasis how often Gator is likened to or associated with snakes: His character bio compares him to the snake in the Garden. His LOL tattoo has forked tongues on the Ls. He's got a "Don't tread on me" flag featuring a snake in his room. He stopped at the Gas 'n Go to "drain the snake." He left an empty Slim Jim wrapper in Donny Ireland's evidence box, that looked like a shed snakeskin. He said that Munch came up "snake eyes."

And as much as Dot’s speech about Linda is about playing on his natural yearning for his mother, it’s also about them too. It’s about Dot. In a way, Dot is also saying that she’s sorry. She never meant to leave him alone. She loves him and she wants things to be alright. They can be if you just help me. Gator obviously wants to believe what Dot is saying is true all of it, but he’s not as dumb as everyone seems to think he is. He knows Dot lies to herself and to others and he calls her out on it. With a single line “You’re lying. You’ve never once in your life told the truth.” we’re left to wonder about all the lies Dot has had to tell over the years. First in order to survive on her own as a teenage runaway, then when she was taken in by the Tillmans, and again when Linda disappeared and she became Roy’s wife.

She told herself that Linda got out, that she was somewhere safe and free and building the life that she wanted. At first she used this lie not to have to face the reality of Roy, of her own likely end, maybe even to appease the twisted sense of guilt she would feel taking Linda’s place and in the light of Gator’s grief over his mother’s sudden absence. Later, she probably used this lie to give herself the courage to be her own Linda. To get out and make the life for herself that she deserved, even if it meant having to leave Gator behind. Even if he doesn’t understand all of the pieces, in his heart of hearts Gator knows his mother is never coming back. She’s either gone or dead, and either way she left him just like Dot did, and Dot is lying to herself.

“I hope you die in here Nadine and that you never see your kid again.” Because that would be justice in his eyes. That would balance the scales. Because he’s never getting out, so why should she?

“No you don’t.” And it’s true. She knows him. Knows he wouldn’t even be here if he weren’t soft. She gave him an opportunity. This was Gator’s crossroad and he chose to stay his course, and the looming figure of Munch reinforces the message that Officer Witt Later delivers, the consequences for Gator are almost here.

Dot too is approaching a crossroad. Because as the episode progresses she is forced to finally confront one of the lies she’s been telling herself for years. Linda is dead. She never made it out. She’s buried under the windmill with Roy’s other enemies. This is not the first time that Dot has seen this windmill, because it was also in her dream about Linda. I would not be surprised if all of Roy’s wives did not witness a body going into that ground at some point or another because of how Karen was so quick to redirect Roy’s rage to Dot. They’re on different sides of the line but they are both fighting for the same thing. To be with their children and not to end up rolled into an early grave.

[deceasedream69]

Bomb

This imagine takes place in 7x3

sumary: you're working on what appears to be a really mysterious case with your coworkers, until thing get complicated.

W: mentions of bombs and mental illness

_______________________________________________________-

-"What I'm saying is that it's possible that our unsub has what it's called "Capgras syndrome", Reid started to explain as we were investigating the unsub's childhood home.

-"What's that?", JJ walked towards Spence, Morgan and me next to him already.

-"It's basically an ilusion made by your eyes. You think everyone you know or love is not actually who you see. You get this "imposter" syndrome, where the rest of your senses are able to recognize your friends or family but your eyes trick you into thinking right the opposite. Now mix thinking everyone you love around you is an imposter with military training and you get... well, our unsub"

-"If this is true how should we proceed?", Morgan asked.

-"Is there a cure?", I looked at Spencer, maybe there was a way to save him after all.

-"there are treatments but not really a cure"

-"but what caused our unsub to get the syndrome"

-"it's cause by mayor brain damage like a tumor or...

"the car accident he had on friday", Spencer and I said it at the same time.

-"that'll explain why he's so calmed and focused, he's normal until he sees an "imposter", Morgan explained and Spencer nodded.

-"And he's looking for the last hope he has, his wife and daughter"

We went back to the BAU, informed by Rossi that our unsub kidnapped someone else we were thinking about options to get close to him.

-"I can't believe you can have someone you love so much in front of you and just...", I made a mimick of my head exploding. "it must be tiring and... so sad, you never really get to spend time with someone that you know"

I closed my eyes.

-"what are you doing?"

-"well I can recognize your voice..." I lifted my hands and started to softly touch his face. "You said you could recognize someone with the rest of your senses, like the touch", I smiled. "I can tell you're Spence"

-"you could just hear my voice, no need to get all touchy"

-"well your voice doesn't really allow me to see or... at least feel, your pretty face"

-"all set, let's call our unsub", Rossi intervened, but I could still see Spencer's red cheeks.

After the phone call we were all on edge, apparently they managed to find the victim our unsub was holding hostage but our unsub wasn't there, just a radio he used to trick is into thinking he was still there. But our worried grew even bigger when Penelope appeared.

- "a dead police officer inside Quantico was found"

- "inside?", Maybe I didn't listen properly, I hoped that was it but Penelope only nodded.

We were screwed.

The whole team entered in kinda panic mode, although no one would admit it. We had to get the unsub's wife and daughter Ina safe place inside the building. Rossi, JJ and Spencer were still in the desk area but Hotch sent me to grab some things from his office.

Rossi pressed the call option again, hoping to hear the unsub's phone ringing to at least have an idea about his location.

- "Luke?", Rossi asked.

- "now I want you to listen to me very carefully, we both know we don't want to make such a mess"

- "what do you mean by that?"

He pushed me out of the office, his hand grabbing my neck to guide me, and the bomb strapped to my shoulders falling onto my chest. I lifted my hands to show our team I wasn't armed, he hid himself behind me, holding a little remote on the other hand.

Morgan and JJ instantly got their guns out.

- "no!" Reid yelled at them, Rossi analyzing the whole situation, I decided to just stay silent, looking at the floor.

- "Now, no more tricks, or your agent here, along with us, is gone. Where is my wife and daughter?"

- "Luke?", A woman's voice sounded through a microphone.

- "sweetie? Is that you? Are you ok?"

- "yes, we're fine and safe, would you please let this innocent people go?"

- "go? After what they're doing to you?"

- "daddy, please, I want to go home", a little girls voice sounded this time, she sounded scared, and so was I. Lifting my gaze slightly to at least look at my team one last time, he tighten his grip on my neck, making me look back down.

- "please let them go, honey"

- "we can reunite you again with your wife and daughter", Spencer intervened. The team looking at him. "But you have to keep your eyes closed"

- "what?" He said grabbing my neck tighter.

- "ok... You- you have this syndrome, called the capgras syndrome, your eyes, basically, are playing tricks on you, making you feel like everyone around you is an imposter, but you just have to close your eyes"

- "please, darling, close your eyes and I'll come out"

- "please, daddy, close your eyes"

I couldn't hold the pain in my neck anymore, biting my lip to suppress any kind of whine or sound that could escape.

- "but you need to let our agent go", Rossi tried to get closer to us, but he pulled be back. After a few seconds, hesitating, he let me go. A couple of professional guys wearing suits grabbed me and took the bomb off me. I felt so relieved.

The unsub closed his eyes and was handcuffed, the wife entered the room, warning him to not open his eyes.

I fell to the nearest chair, my breathing uneven and my shoulder hurting as fuck.

- "hey, are you okay?", He kneeled before me.

I shook my head and let the tears flow as I rested my head on his shoulder, his hand stroking my back slowly.

I could hear the commotion at the background but I decided not to pay attention to it, I'll catch on it later.

Spencer and I stood there for a moment. Morgan tried to approach to ask me how I was feeling but Spencer shook his head so he decided to give us space.

- "how are you feeling?", He said stroking my head now.

I sniffed.

- "I was... Scared"

- "honestly", he voice was really soft, like he was whispering, "I was scared to, scared to not see your pretty face anymore either, not even being able to feel it", he said running a few fingers over my cheek. I smiled and closed my eyes , trying to steady my breathing.

- "it's all over, let's go home and get you some sleep", he said helping me up.

The end :)

[asstrolo]

astrology post but I only talk about my placements

I'm doing this not only in a self-centered way but also as a physiological study about my own chart, trying to see if anyone else can relate.

sun aspecting chiron; I want to start by saying I don't feel any sort of responsibility towards anyone hehe, BUT this placement is difficult, depending on what kind of aspects are in play there are different results, the native that has this has sort of spiritual responsibility with unhealed souls and people they encounter look for their advice. These people suffer a lot (depending on house and sign as well) growing up, as they don't feel supported and have a really hard time asking for help, imposter syndrome is likely for these people too.

A little advice I'd give to people with this placement is to look for spirituality to heal or to feel supported, it helps a lot.

venus retrograde; when a person has this placement is hard to connect with the venusian parts of themselves, if they have Libra or Taurus placements it's good to check where and where are the houses located in Libra and Taurus, (ex; a Scorpio rising has Taurus in the 7th and Libra in the 12th) that'll tell us what is something that doesn't come easy to us, is harder to understand or make people like it when you're the one who's doing it. There's a lot that comes from this placement and it always takes us back to past relationships as it's difficult for them to learn lessons when it comes to love and relationships.

mercury opposite third house; very specific i know, you could also add it to mercury in a detrimental sign or squaring sun/ASC; having this is kind of a hit or miss, it force you to practice a lot in your words and your speech, as people tend to misunderstand what you're saying, either be offended by it or confused. If throughout your life you make no progress with the way you present your ideas and work on how you speak to others, you'll have the problem of forever being misunderstood. That's why I think this aspect is actually a lesson in astrology, you must learn how to better your introverted nature and fear of criticism.

moon aspecting neptune; any aspect between the moon and neptune has the same repercussions, your emotions could be based off of fantasy or ideas you created, having a hard aspect is somebody who always has anxious and negative thoughts that are far from the truth, thus they have the tendency to become addicted to substances that relaxes them. Having an easy aspect is somebody who idealizes everything and avoid negative situations with avoidance, having a conjunction is somebody who's aware that their fantasies are just fantasies.

Lilith in Aquarius, in an air sign or air house; having Lilith in the sign of connections and individuality gives a person uniqueness and their deepest emotions are something they are constantly trying to analyze and and understand those emotions instead of just feeling them. They are judged when they open up about their ideals and they can be seen as the odd one out. Having Lilith in an air house (the social signs) makes their interactions with people extra difficult or significant to ones identity,

-> Lilith in 3rd has trouble with communicating and people might get easily offended by this person's out of the box thinking, Lilith in 11th always have traumatic experiences with friends and people they know on internet, they have stalkers and people get obsessed with their social media persona, Lilith in 7th has bad experience with romantic partners and face injustice when it comes to their relationships, people take advantage of them and when there's conflict in relationship they're always the one to blame.

mars in hard aspects to jupiter; they have a hard time deciding what they want to do with their life and are prone to anger issues, i believe this placement is very complicated as growing up the person deals with a lot off negativity and suppressed emotions as they don't know how to express themselves very well. If you have this maybe you should consider activities that have to do with art or body movement to relieve the stress, you get stressed easily too.

this is super personal but having an aquarius moon and cancer rising, or aquarius and cancer in your big three is very complicated, I feel very overwhelmed by my emotions and when I can't analyze them I have a mental breakdown. Cancers are super emotional and sensitive beings, they can be moody and it's difficult for them to hide their feelings, Aquarius are the complete opposite to all of that. And it's HARDDDD

saturn conjunct jupiter; this conjunction is also called The Great Conjunction, these people are born for something great and important, depending on the house it's in, the things you want related to the house are delayed. For example, if you have a 5th in both Saturn and Jupiter while they conjunct, your desire is to live for art, to romanticize your life and to experience all the beautiful things life can offer, but it's hard to achieve this since maybe you were born into a serious and structured household, where you weren't allowed to express the more childlike parts of yourself. As you get older, and once you've gone through your first Saturn return, you'll work on making your ideas a reality.

I'm back on my stupid astrology bitch shit

[popawritter12]

Can I send a request of yandere Kenshi specifically masked kenshi.

Author's Notes: By “masked Kenshi” I imagine when he already has the bandana, right? I'm kind of bad at English, I'm sorry if this one-shot isn't as you expected.

BTW Im sorry for taking me so much time to make this :c

Yandere! Kenshi

Yandere Character: Kenshi (I don't remember his last name)

From the video game/manga/anime/movie/series: Mortal Kombat 1

Case: kidnapping, mention of escape, Stockholm syndrome.

Warnings: No.

Finished: Yes

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I always found his behavior strange.

Maybe that was why I initially wanted to get closer to him. It was mostly my cheap curiosity, though, he took it personally; thinking that I really was in love with him and was looking to have a life with him, even when that wasn't really the case. He locked me away and forced me to live this life, one I never sought, nor desired, but it was also not something I could face or counteract.

I still remember very well the night he took me away from everyone. It was cold and a little cloudy, but never cloudy enough for it to rain, it seemed that he had been waiting for this moment, a moment in which it was at any moment it could rain and thus clear his tracks, but at the same time be was going to give me enough time to take me away from everyone, to get away from this life that I always had.

The first nights in which he kidnapped me, I didn't have a very good time, so to speak, in the sense that he was quite strict and almost every time I responded badly or did something in a way that he didn't consider correct, he responded by screaming or trying to hurt me, condescending manner. And it was totally the opposite if it was “good.”

To tell the truth, I would never have suspected that this could happen, since the few conversations I had with him were focused on quests or with other people, and I found it surprising that it all ended this way.

But hey, at least I don't have chains on my hands 24 hours a day —Do I have them on my feet at night? Yes—, but it is necessary, important, just as I couldn't control the rest of the things and much less could I know what moment would be the right one to get out of here.

And although most of the time he was at home —or at least the time I was awake since I slept in the afternoon— and he was not very talkative so to speak…, in fact for the most part he always remained serious and without saying almost anything. no words.

I often get depressed thinking about the days before this, where I was happy, where I knew everyone and where I had friends everywhere, but now that was purely taken away from me. And although I understand his reasons fairly well, I consider them unfair, selfish and aberrant.

But at least his family came to visit me from time to time, even Cage came to visit me and gave me certain things like clothes or books.

In fact, I find it surprising that someone like him is the only one allowed to talk to me. And although when I asked him if he could try to convince Kenshi of the decisions he was making, but he just shook his head saying that it is a hopeless case, and that the best thing I could do was get used to it, even if it was an attempt.

Pathetic, was what I thought; It seemed quite strange to me that the only person who even had the possibility of helping me decided to simply turn his back on me and give me minimal things so that I could at least try to "get used to" this life that I have now.

But hey, nothing is worse.

Honestly, I kept thinking that maybe it would just be a passing feeling, something that he would temporarily feel that would last until a certain period, and that he would progressively let me go, letting me go…, but I would never be more wrong.

As the days went by he seemed to be gaining more confidence, which was the complete opposite of what I expected. Sometimes he brought me gifts, during the nights he asked me if I wanted to sleep with him, if he could stand next to me so he could protect me while I rested, and although sometimes I refused, eventually I had to give in and know that I would never have a normal life again.

I still remember one time I tried to escape, I tried to try and see how far he could go, to where he was going to chase me. I tried to go to several cities or even go many towns away, seeking even the support of someone like Liu Kang or any of his warriors to think about even going with the Ling Kuei, but I quickly ruled it out since I was at war with their “other half” of the family.

However, each attempt was worse than the last, since he always found me, sometimes faster, sometimes he took a few days, etc. It was strange to think how he knew where I was because he would even have found me even faster than I could think.

Even if he have sometimes raised his voice to me, i understand it in some point, maybe be because my attempts to escape being almost daily at one point.

He would constantly increase the number of chains on my body or simply add more security to the window or doors, but I always found some way to escape from those four walls.

However, those events were a couple of months ago; I would say about six. And in fact, thinking recently I realized that I was quite skilled at one point, being that I could go through entire towns and get tired only when I had just arrived, and only when I knew I was safe could I give myself a rest and a well-deserved lie down on a bed.

And now I knew there was no way to escape, that somehow I would always know where I was, that no matter where I went, I would always know when and how to find myself at the right moment, I knew that my life was condemned to remain by his side. , chained and locked in a place that almost no one knew.

And that's why today was a special day.

I barely managed to become aware of the time and time I was in; I got out of bed, gave the room a little order and approached the door at the entrance to my room, but before I could take the doorknob, he opened the door, a soft squeak of wood was heard. , silent.

—Hello, Kenshi, —I greeted, my voice softer than usual —, how did you wake up?

He didn't answer, he just took one of my hands.

I smiled, knowing the habit he had picked up for a couple of months. He would check my palms, caress my skin and notice if it was more damaged, or rougher than my skin normally is, and if it was, then he didn't treat me very well during the day.

—Then I guess the noises were from the animals —he mentioned, his fingers now running over the tips of mine —. I'm glad to know you haven't hurt yourself trying to run away yet.

A soft laugh escapes my lips, letting him take and caress my palm to his liking.

—Yeah, digging in the dirt wasn't such a good idea for my hands, you know? I learned it months ago —I joked, before separating his hands from mine. —. By the way, are there wild animals at night?

He remained imperturbably calm, and only nodded in response.

—Two nights ago I noticed them —he admitted, —but I thought you were you trying to escape.

I laughed at this, before taking one of his hands, my fingers settling into the gaps between his half-open ones. My gaze stayed on our hold, as I only panted softly.

—Well, then I guess you would have to get used to dealing with those animals.

He looked confused, and was even more so when he saw the grip he had with my fingers wrapped around each of his knuckles.

—Just because you said so?

—Because I don't plan any escape.

—You always say the same thing, —he emphasizes—, and then you run away from me.

—This time is different —I clarify, before looking at him again for a second, I gently pressed my fingers against his knuckles again —, I seriously don't plan anything."

Just by noticing the gesture of his lips and eyebrows I noticed that he was hesitant; He had learned the different expressions he had, and each one was more intriguing than the last.

—Fine. —he whispered, not very convinced.

He let go of my hand, and without telling me anything he just left the hallway, going to what I assumed was his room.

Since he never let me into his room; It was a strange thing, the obsession he had with me not touching his room under any circumstances.

In part, I was a little hurt by his indifference to my revelation, since I very rarely lied to him, but it didn't take me long to go look for him.

His steps were not hurried, but he could tell that he just wanted to be alone for a moment. When I tried to call him, he ignored me, and only advanced to the door of his room, where he took out the padlock that secured it and entered it.

Denying what I was trying to tell him, I just headed to the kitchen, ready to finally replenish my energy with anything that would serve as fuel for my body. And while I was taking some time to prepare it, I was just thinking about a couple of things.

Since when had I accepted my destiny? I guess I've been thinking about it for a month now.

How long will this last? Until the end of my life, I guess.

Do I have any way to escape? Nah, most likely not.

It was a little painful to think that I was no longer going to try to regain my long-awaited freedom, limited to being between six rooms and a hallway.

The more I think about it, the more my mind focuses on random points in my vision, and in the end, I just longed to stop overthinking this situation.

Suddenly, I notice that a hand took mine, giving gentle caresses and stopping my movements.

—Oh, Kenshi, what would you like…?

—How sure are you that you're not going to escape?

I gasped softly, trying not to lose my bearings at that moment.

—I already told you that I'm not going to escape.

—You said the same thing 6 months ago, and then you ran away.

—What way do you have to prove that I am trying to escape?

—You're too calm these days.

I sighed, stopping cooking.

—You are too paranoid.

He frowned, before letting go of my hand.

—I'm not, I just don't trust you.

I tried again and again to reason with him, but I found little use in conversing with him. I felt stressed thinking that this was useless, coincidentally I got tired but I couldn't get out of that situation, I wanted to stay there for as long as possible.

But it only exhausted me more mentally the thought of him that I was about to escape, or that I was planning to do something bad to him.

It was then that, out of my own coherent line of thought, I limited myself to taking a sharp step towards him, placing myself right next to his body and my face facing his cheek.

Gently but quickly my lips landed on his cheek, placing a soft kiss on his undamaged skin.

The sensation of kissing his skin wasn't very different from other things, in fact it was almost like giving a kiss to my wayward pet.

However, when I moved away from the sudden display of affection, a hand on the back of my neck stopped me, forcing our lips to connect with each other with a gentle but forceful push.

With my pupils dilated, I was surprised, knowing that I couldn't escape his grasp, I limited myself to just letting him follow his path with the contact, unless until he wanted to stop.

—I guess that's a sign of trust, —He playfully separated from me —, tell me, will you give me more signs of trust in the future?

Playful and idiotic, I guess I discovered a new side of him.

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[suniani]

for the requests (no pressure) have you posted your vincent design yet?? i would LOVE to see him in your style it’s so pretty

HIYA THANK YOU FOR WAITING I’M SORRY I’M SLOW!!! anyways you read my mind with this one because i’ve been wanting to draw vincent for a few weeks now (and maybe make an animatic for tiktok,, but i highly doubt it would do well)

i did post vincent a few times, but please don’t go looking for it because oh lord it’s. bad. the drawing on the right is actually just a rendered sketch from over a year ago,, it’s the only one i like

fun fact the design is based on yon gonzález in gran hotel - i saw that man and said that’s it this is vincent

i have something opposite to same face syndrome i literally cannot draw the someone more than once without them looking like an entirely different person each time

art tag: @redobutton , @daveys-angel , @anthrokiaera , @itsdaifuku , @milosirlgf , @teaseat

(if you wanna be on the tag list, dm me, and if you have any other drawing requests feel free to send an ask!)

[just---stuff]

This is going to be a long post

Ok so for a certain time now, I had this idea of turning Sans Au's into human girls, I first started with Ink and Error out of curiosity and now I can't stop, so I'll explain a little bit my reasoning behind every design (in order):

Ink: i wanted to give her like a very clean look with the dominance of fluid lines. The ponytail is supposed to be inspired by the looks of a brush and she kinda gives a main character energy with that hairstyle

Error: so basically since Error is a destroyer of Au's and Ink a protector I gave her features opposite to Ink, her eyelashes are pointy and spread at every direction to show she's kinda chaotic. Also her species (error) are known for being inconsistent so I gave her inconsistent hair types. Her bangs are straight, the hair at the sides of her head are wavy and her puffs are curly (everything comes out naturally)

Swap: so I felt very conflicted about her design since after Ink and Error I didn't had any specific idea for the hairstyle, I just knew I viewed her having a fat but muscular body. I gave her a round babyface to show her tender personality, the eyelashes are also very round to transmit that sensation of being in good hands around her. To show she trains as a royal guard I gave her a scar across her mouth and a bandage. And I gave her a childish hairstyle cause I can't stop being influenced by Blueberry sorry :')

Fell: she accidentally looks like Nimona, I just drew every one of her features sharp to show her edgyness and ofc her haircut had to be rebellious like. Everything pointy

Cross: actually she's the only one who's haircut was planned after designing Ink and Error. It just made sense in my head, she's a royal guard and I feel that having long hair would be a distraction during training/ battle (you know, having annoying hair that cover her eyes by accident). So very short hair is the solution (and she looks very pretty with very short hair). Also I gave her simple eyelashes because of the same reason, I just think that playing it simple is her style

Killer: ok so this time I really didn't knew what to do with her hair XDD, since Killer I started to run out of ideas. But luckily I remembered the concepts of her male human form having black hair shaved on the side and I played with it. Sincerely it looks really good and I think it fits her with a certain "messy" hair (I think the idea of black hair shaved to the side comes from @ itsxroxannex but I'm not sure)

And that's all for now, I already did Dream, Nightmare and Horror, I'm just waiting till I complete the whole page to show it to you guys

I hope you liked my designs, I really worked hard on it to show some diversity, not only with the hairstyle but also the face and nose shapes, I'm sorry if they suffer from same face syndrome but I did my best! ✩

_________

Ink belongs to comyet

Error belongs to loverofpiggies

Swap belongs to AU community

Fell belongs to underfell

Cross belongs to jakei95

Killer belongs to rahafwabas

[sleeplesssmoll]

Thank you for replying so fast! It’s really interesting that Vertin really did make such a gamble. Speaking of which, what is with the two moons? Is that the Storm Syndrome of the era? How is it related to the pop art thing we see happen?

Full disclosure before this: I adore Vernetto and I’m very much writing from the perspective of Vernetto Real, haha. So: I feel like Vertin and Sonetto’s relationship changes quite a bit throughout the story. In chapter 3, Vertin is the one who pursues Sonetto, but the dynamic is reversed (ha) later on. I often feel like Vertin has trouble identifying her own emotions regarding other people, and it makes me wonder if maybe she had a crush on Sonetto without realizing it when they were kids, giving her all sorts of things in an attempt to bond with her. It didn’t really work because Sonetto was so scared of anything from the outside, despite her natural curiosity. Then the breakaway happened, there was no chance for things to progress, and Vertin “moved on”.

I feel like it breaks Vertin’s heart to see Sonetto shut down her natural curiosity and interest in the outside world due to the Foundation’s indoctrination, but at the same time, Vertin doesn’t want to force her to change her views. Instead I think she is incredibly supportive and proud of Sonetto whenever she makes strides in the direction of independence. And of course she’s always happy to enable Sonetto when she wants to try things (I really cannot imagine a world where Vertin turned down Sonetto’s cheek kissing practice or bridge invitation!).

Also, do we know if the prologue is the first time Vertin and Sonetto have met each other since the breakaway, or if they’ve seen each other in between? Things like Sonetto’s birthday letter would maybe imply that it’s not the first time, right?

I want to know the last bit as much as you 😂 I'm assuming they stayed in touch but there isn't much to go off of. I really want to know what happened between the break away event and the intro.

Sonetto, how did you get from "damn it Vertin" to this puppy? Also, despite Sonetto scolding Vertin, she will still accept the gifts and never outright ignores her. If Vertin calls, she'll answer and I think that says something about her too.

Vertin once mentioned to Madam Z she knew she could depend on her because on that night long ago, she saw that madam z was not part of Constantine's game by the look in her eyes. She also doesn't force people to make choices they really don't want. For example, she gives Regulus options in the Suitcase after everything as proof of this. Like if Regulus wanted, she could have joined the Foundation which would make sense considering the whole experiment thing but they really are alike so that didn't happen. She stayed.

Going off of this, I think Vertin has high emotional intelligence but doesn't necessarily know the correct action to take. Especially since they were kids back then. Maybe she saw that curious spark Sonetto displays now and wanted to fuel it, hoping to bond over shared interests? Her perception is highlighted throughout the story. Perhaps she knew Sonetto doesn't actually hate her despite her frustrations? Gremlin energy. You love and you hate them.

As for the Storm Syndrome, yes I think the moons were a side effect of the Storm but I couldn't tell you exactly what it represented 🤔

From a shipping perspective, I l'm happy with any content with Vertin in it lol. As for the analysis of shipping dynamics, I like comparing opposite dynamics since it helps me refine the point I'm trying to make. On this case, it'd be Schneider.

While seeing Schneider's effect on Vertin is straightforward, Sonetto's true influence stood out to me when I backtracked.

From the moment they met, Schneider is described with a sort of romantic or pretty language. From her face to her scent, she's directly described in a delicate but deadly light. It really feels like she made a shift in Vertin's world in the short time they knew each other.

The context she thinks about Sonetto isn't highlighted with the same romanticism she applies to Schneieder, but she constantly appears in Vertin's thoughts. In Sonetto's case it's the small things that Vertin's always noticed but never forgets. Sonetto lives in her head rent free from her dreams (artificial somnambulism) to memories from their days as children.

From all the way back in the intro, Vertin makes references to their school days when she meets Sonetto. Like the way Sonetto looks up at the sky and takes a deep breath before combat or the determined expression is the same kind she makes before an exam. While Schneider made a huge impact in a moment, Sonetto's presence quietly persisted in her mind for a long time.

In simpler terms:

Schneider was the one who shook her world.

Sonetto is her Roman Empire.

I might have more dynamics to work with in the future and this is subject to change as the character develop but I hope this is useful for your story! Good luck! 👍

[ctitan98official]

Anonymous: What do you think the RE8 ladies insecurities are? And how would they react if they were going through a moment of being insecure?

Ooh, interesting! Let’s get into it!

Alcina:

I don’t think she’s too insecure about her size (She uses it to her advantage and she feels she can protect her daughters because of this.)

I do think that when she’s not trying to hunt, she gets a bit insecure over her claws. That’s why she wears those leather gloves, in my opinion.

Perhaps she feels bad about the scar on her head from the cadou? (I don’t think it has been officially confirmed, but there is speculation as to that being the reason why she wears the hat.)

Alcina is a very outwardly emotional person, but when it comes to deep self-loathing… She won’t show that to anyone.

She commands respect, but when she’s alone, she sometimes weeps and remembers what life was like before being forced to live with the cadou.

Donna:

Obviously, Donna is insecure about her face and that’s why she wears the veil. But I think there might be more to unpack there.

What if Donna’s sister, Bernadette, who died due to Miranda’s experimentation, was the golden child in her family? The one who could do no wrong? Donna was the less-desired child and was repeatedly scolded. Even more so after Bernadette’s death, until she started to shut down around others.

Maybe that’s why Donna is so shy, along with the cadou scar she’s trying to hide.

We also know that she rarely speaks. Maybe she hates the sound of her own voice.

Whatever the case, Donna has a lot of deeply rooted insecurities. She keeps it to herself, however, unable to voice how she truly feels.

Miranda:

Miranda gives off an air of confidence. To her, people are merely tools to be used and then thrown away.

It’s difficult to see her as someone with insecurities, but I think we have all of the proof we need to see what they are directly from the game.

I think Miranda feels guilty that she was unable to save Eva. Maybe the reason she’s so determined to get her back is so that she can be a better mother to her.

Maybe Miranda was so busy with her work as a biologist, that she neglected Eva when she was still alive.

This is Miranda’s way to prove to herself that she’s a good mother. Her redemption.

Miranda would rather die than confide this to anyone. It’s her deepest shame, even after all of the horrible acts she has committed.

Bela:

Bela is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. Heir to the Dimitrescu name.

She’s supposed to have her life all figured out. Follow in Alcina’s footsteps, act as her sisters’ keeper, help run the wine business.

But maybe she just feels like she’s not good enough.

She definitely suffers from imposter syndrome. She feels she doesn’t deserve what she’s been given and that she’s faking everything she does.

It’s a tough burden for her to carry. I think she would confide in Dani, though. Probably not Cassandra and only very rarely in her mother. She’s trying to make Alcina proud, after all. She can’t show her all of her flaws.

Bela most likely keeps a diary or journal to capture her thoughts and try to slow down her mind.

Cassandra:

Cass also exudes confidence. It’s just her personality… Or is it?

Maybe the reason she’s so competitive is because she constantly feels like she needs to prove herself?

Whether it be to gain acceptance from her sisters or mother, the outcome is pretty much the same either way. Maybe Cass actually has really poor self image and she tries to fool everybody into thinking the exact opposite?

She definitely won’t talk to her sisters about this and there’s the very slight chance she talks to Alcina about it. Maybe as she’s torturing prisoners, she tells them all of this, knowing they’ll be disposed of later, anyway.

This one’s a long shot, but there could be more here than meets the eye with our lovely Cassandra.

Daniela:

I think Daniela is so lovesick (Without even having anybody to love).

I think she sees romantic relationships as a way for her to prove she’s good enough. For someone else to see that she’s worthy.

Dani doesn’t get a lot of social interaction within the castle (Except with people she’s hunting).

She needs someone else to see something of value within her.

She probably worries that people won’t like her real personality so she tries to play it off by being overly seductive and unmercifully teasing.

Dani might feel more comfortable talking with Cass about this rather than Bela. Dani sees Bela as this shining pillar of perfection… That might intimidate her a little bit.

Dani is probably the most willing to share her feelings out of the sisters.

Masterlist

[hausofneptune]

[the astrology of pedro pascal] - hard saturn aspects (major) | saturn square pluto

hey y’all! in this series we’ll be covering major hard/challenging aspects (squares and oppositions) to pedro’s saturn. he doesn’t have any minor soft aspects to his saturn, but minor challenging aspects to his saturn (semi-squares/sesquiquadrates and semi-sextiles/inconjunctions) will be covered in an upcoming series, as well as the rest of the major and minor aspects to the rest of his planets, and asteroids in his chart! i also want to note that when it comes to these aspects, they have to be examined through the lens of the entire chart, as they’re influenced by a myriad of factors within it.

disclaimers | masterlist | ask

saturn square pluto (4°31’)

– discussions surrounding plutonian themes can be heavy so content warning for violence, (childhood) trauma, death, and abuse. nothing detailed or explicit, just an advisory for those who want to avoid these topics.

in this aspect, the planetary bodies are in conflict with one another. saturn is representative of long-term goals, how we approach those goals, and more specifically the restriction and difficulty we face in meeting these goals. most often you’ll hear saturn referred to as the “teacher” or the “father” of the planetary bodies, it is the “bar” you set for yourself. pluto is considered the co-ruler of scorpio in modern astrology, and is representative of sexuality, the taboo, fears, death, control/domination, destruction and rebirth. pluto is also a generational planet, and stays in the same sign for 12-32 years, therefore people born within that time frame will all share the same placement. 

life for those with this aspect can entail a great deal of discipline and sacrifice. these natives can experience episodes of depression and may struggle with imposter syndrome. they may have a tendency towards stubbornness, a trait that on one hand can manifest as  determination towards meeting their goals, but can also result in stagnancy if it becomes a resistance to change. regardless, these natives are extremely strong and resilient, especially when they come to terms with the fact that the things they’ve been through and the things they’ve yet to accomplish don’t represent their worth as human beings.

the effects of this aspect manifest similarly to the sun square saturn, sun opposite pluto, moon square pluto, moon opposite saturn, and jupiter opposite pluto aspects pedro also has (this man is an extremely plutonic/saturnian person if y’all haven’t caught on by now). there’s a common theme among these aspects that manifests as these natives potentially facing abuse or neglect in youth, or experiencing some form of a tumultuous childhood. this turmoil shapes and molds their outlook on themselves, on life, and their relationships. 

in adulthood, their trauma may show up as having a general distrust of others, all the while craving respect and affirmation from those around them. aspects to saturn and pluto are usually marked by a deep need for control, usually to avoid ending up in situations where they feel submissive, rejected, or humiliated. any sense of vulnerability can make them feel anxious, as though they’re “re-experiencing” the distress they felt in their youth/past. 

in the context of saturn square pluto, the father/paternal figure (or any relevant authority figure in their childhood) plays a significant role in their lives. this can manifest as having a father who’s lived experience was plutonic in nature, he may have experience some form of trauma or turmoil in his life, and/or worked to care for or to help people who were sick or struggled with addiction (i.e. medical industry, rehabilitation workforce, therapists/social workers, etc.). in the case of pedro’s father, he was a fertility doctor, and he allegedly did some scummy shit during his career. i feel like there’s a point to be made there about plutonic themes but i don’t want to come across as insensitive so if you get it, you get it. 

in more extreme cases, the father/paternal/authority figure may have been a source of trauma for the native, and he could’ve been abusive or neglectful towards his child(ren). he may have been more heavily dedicated to his work/career than he was to being a father, and could’ve have set high expectations that the native may have felt they couldn’t meet. this could also manifest as the father being sick or disabled, struggling with addiction, or passing away. 

this can also manifest as having a childhood or lived experiences that were marked by being in environments that sought to “control” the native’s identity, thought process, or behavior. the native, or those around them, may have felt inclined to rebel against the restrictions imposed upon them by the system, and were therefore punished or outcast as a result. 

they strive to maintain control in all facets of their lives, and may find a sense of “power” in their careers. success typically doesn’t come easy for these natives, as they can encounter many obstacles that keep them from progressing in both their lives and careers. they may have an aversion to authority, and could experience power-struggles with their employers or bosses, or find conflict between themselves and the people they work with. they typically benefit from having a career that they’re extremely passionate about, but may have a tendency to over-extend themselves at times and not prioritize rest. they should be mindful as to not use their work as a means of escapism or to distract themselves from implementing any adjustments needed in their lives. 

their past tends to hold the most influence over the way they navigate through life. while their endurance and strength shapes them into hard workers that don’t budge in the face of setbacks, operating through the lens of the pain they’ve experienced can hinder their growth and negatively impact personal relationships. they may repeatedly ignore repeated advice from their partners and loved ones if they’re especially stuck in their ways, and potentially lose relationships and miss out on opportunities in the process. 

though it may take time and maturity, they’ll come to realize that rebirth is a recurring, necessary theme in their lives, they eventually must confront their fears and embrace growth in order to reach their full potential. their personal evolution is significant, and they would benefit greatly from introspection and working on the parts of themselves that need healing. their spirituality plays a large role in their journeys, they’ll encounter lessons that guide them to recognize and unlearn the habits that keep them stuck in cycles of self-sabotaging behavior.

ultimately, these natives should work on their discernment when it comes to navigating their relationship to the world around them and more importantly, their relationship to themselves. with this aspect, it can feel as though the weight of the world is on their shoulders. they should tap into their spiritual side, and work towards healing the pain housed within their subconscious to make the frustrations that come alongside this aspect easier. they should work towards not being too hard on themselves, and would benefit from having a mentor, life coach, or therapist to prevent them from “getting too into their own heads” and providing them with a sense of guidance. 

as always, if anyone has any of the placements or aspects mentioned in this post i’d love to hear how it personally manifests in your own life and how it impacts your personality, or if anyone has anything to add in general feel free to reach out and let me know!

[haleyvalentineart]

Fan Comic Update!

July 27, 2023

Hello again! Here are some images of my Matt concept. I feel like I have the opposite of same face syndrome, haha. Comic update continues below.

Great news, the script for issue #1 is COMPLETE! 🎉🎈🎉 I’m really excited about it! I’m putting it out there now, the ending of the first issue (last few pages) kicks off the main plot with an extremely graphic fight scene. How graphic? I plugged it into AI to proofread (I’m not a writer, haha), and it suggested I consider how the violence could affect my audience and tone it down.

When it’s posted, I will add the violence warning again. It can be read up to about page 13 with no issues before this scene. I will also include warnings for criminal activity (if I should?) and drug use. I’m honestly really proud about the pacing and build up on the last few pages, so I hope you’ll read it if you can!

The script as of right now sets issue #1 at 15 pages, with 3 to 5 panels per page. They will all be about this drawing style and quality (hoping I figure out how to draw Matt’s face consistently).

I’m considering the way I’m going to post the finished pages again. I may post the issue in two parts, because there is a good place to stop reading halfway through. That way I will be able to post sooner.

Until then, I’ll post occasional updates on sketches and snippets of panels.

Have an amazing day :)

[navree]

me @ you calling Lucerys boring! 😆 come on, he's just a kid! cutting out aemond's eye was bad, i agree, but i don't think he was as bland as everyone says. his imposter syndrome in 8 and 10 was interesting to watch at least. he was a brave little boy.

I mean I don't really see anything brave about bringing a knife to a fight he not only had fuck all to do with but where he was clearly at fault (Aemond did nothing wrong, he tamed a free dragon, Baela and Rhaena get a pass because they're grieving but Jace and Luke had no business being involved and certainly no business escalating into 4 v 1 violence against the clear cut victim), trying to literally murder someone because I don't know what the fuck you're trying to do when you stab a knife at someone's face but it's certainly not a warning shot, showing zero remorse for it at all, and at worse acting like a little snot when in the same room with your victim. The fact that Luke got away with this scot free (didn't he literally say "I didn't do anything" you boring little asshole you stabbed out someone's eye that is the opposite of not doing anything!) is an absolute travesty of justice that stains everyone involved (mostly Viserys and Luke but I'm not letting Rhaenyra "pls torture the ten year old stabbing victim until he tells me how he figured out that these white dark haired children aren't the sons of my black platinum blond husband" Targaryen off the hook either). Aemond could have died, not only from the initial wound, but from the myriad of infections or other issues that could have plagued him during the healing process. For God's sake, Viserys nicks himself on the Iron Throne and they have to lop off his arm, his infected injuries and their treatment have already made him pretty firmly decrepit by Driftmark, the fact that Aemond healed without any serious and lifelong and further damaging complication is a goddamn miracle. And even kids know that murder is bad, I'm pretty sure that if I were Lucerys's age and I tried to commit homicide I'd have to deal with some consequences.

And I'm sorry, but I call him boring because he is! They wrote a boring character! That's not on me for picking up on it, that's on the writers and the myriad choices they made that led to them severely underdeveloping several characters, most prominently Lucerys (Jace and Baela and Rhaena at least get another season of life to develop further, Luke gets four episodes and they knew that going in). This is a song I've been singing literally since the show was airing and it's not gonna change, cuz he's dead and therefore stuck with his boring character and complete lack of characterization.

Him being a kid is not a character trait, and it certainly doesn't make him more interesting anymore than, say, his eye color would. The impostor syndrome thing they kinda tried didn't really work because 1) it's not impostor syndrome if it's true, he's not a Velaryon and Vaemond was 99% in the right in that entire thing (I don't like him throwing out misogynistic slurs, you can point out that these aren't Velaryons but Strong bastards without stooping to calling Rhaenyra a whore, I hate men sometimes) 2) in episode 8 it exists for one single line and is not a driving force for him at all for the remainder of the episode to the point that it could be cut out and mean nothing, especially since that scene was only there to introduce adult Aemond and 3) it doesn't even make sense because the person who was set up as having issues with his lack of Velaryon heritage and Harwin being his father was Jace. Jace is the one who hears the rumors and clocks it early on in childhood, Jace is the one who is deeply affected by it to the point of bitterness towards his own mother, Jace is the one who grieves Harwin but also feels angry that he can't express it. All of that was set up as part of Jace's arc, not at all Luke's, who is literally set dressing up until he decides to commit criminal offenses in the middle of the night. And then time skip, and suddenly Jace is A-OK and Luke, who has shown no issue before now (or any personality at all) is slightly concerned about it for one line in episode 8 before going back to being a piece of cardboard until episode 10.

And I'll be honest, the second that scene came out in episode 10, I immediately saw it for what it was, which was a very obvious patch job. The writers were clearly aware that they had not given the viewers any reason at all to care about Luke one way or another, so we weren't going to feel a lot when Vhagar (deservedly, imo) munches on him. So they hastily added in this really heavy-handed scene of poor uwu soft boy Lukey who is so concerned with doing right and needs to blink up tearfully at Mommy and be her sweet boy and get little kisses to assuage his worries, so that we'd feel some emotion and then be said when he becomes the Jonah to Vhagar's whale. It just doesn't work because there was nothing for him before then and therefore I don't care, I just feel bad Rhaenyra.

Luke is a bland and boring character. That's not an attack, that's just what the writers did. They tried to cram too much into a ten episode season, literally twenty years of history, and it caused a lot of characterization problems for a lot of characters, particularly for the Team Black ones. And a consequence of that is that the character with the least amount of time for development got not development and no personality. He's a plank of wood, he's a platonic version of the sexy lamp trope; there's nothing there and he exists only for us to feel bad when the lamp is smashed. Seriously, name me five individual character traits that Lucerys has. He's a momma's boy, even though I'm not really sure that's a character trait but I'll give it to him, and I guess he's devoid of empathy, considering that he doesn't appear to feel literally any remorse for mutilating Aemond (seriously, is it like the Dothraki and "thank you"? does the word "sorry" not exist in Valyrian languages? you can't even send an apology gift basket or a note?). But he's not brave, as there is no scene that shows any bravery or courage, and he's not noble or kind or thoughtful because there's nothing that shows any of that, or anything that shows him being the opposite, cruel or cowardly or weak, because he's a basically a character who could be played by sticking a wig on a mop and waving it around. And any characterization of insecurity exists as something hamfistedly crowbarred in at the last minute in his final episode to try to manipulate the audience's emotions with less sensitivity than D&D trying to tug at our heartstrings by having Drogon try to nudge Dany awake after she's killed.

But there is a character that I do consider to be a brave little boy, though I regret to inform y'all that it is Not a fourteen year old with no depth or personality or written characterization whose main claim to fame is maiming a person without apology and then dying. Nah, the brave little boy title goes to post-Driftmark Aemond. Aemond, at ten, is delivered a life altering injury whose recovery was likely very slow and very painful, involved a lot of worry about whether he'd have to deal with infection or further risk of death, and had to relearn how to do literally everything now that he was half blind, and he did all of it. He survived, and he thrived. He relearned how to walk, how to balance, his spatial awareness. He learned how to fought and even became incredibly good at it, and maintained his bond with Vhagar, as well as trying to keep himself mentally sharp as well. He did all of that, despite the huge setback he was dealt with at age ten. That's brave, go Aemond.

[crystalsenergy]

The syndrome of indifferent thinking, of simplifying others' difficulties; Know-it-all

In the midst of so much difficulty in connection, empathy, and respectful communication – which I see as one of the biggest challenges we face on social media – it's important to talk about and reflect on this.

It's common to hear (or feel) these voices echoing in social media:

'They don't do it because they don't want to.' 'Just do this.' 'They haven't done it because they haven't wanted to.' 'It's laziness, they don't want to change.' 'It's victimization, it's just X, Y, Z thing.'

It's not always victimization; a lot of times there are indeed difficulties and pain behind that demand.

It's not drama; it's a desire to express what's inside. It's not whining; it's not fussiness; it's not laziness.

Our energy is our energy. Our story is personal, unique, and instead of forcing the other's future or their best choice with aggression and arrogance, deal with the matter that impacts that individual in front of you with love, patience, and empathy.

By the way, that person is not in front of you for no reason. Perhaps it's precisely to make you notice your emotional rigidity and insensitivity to others and the diversity of realities.

The life of others is not lived based on your journey (which may not have been as emotionally/mentally heavy), but rather on their journey.

If this person is accustomed to a past of pain, imposition, fears, and limiting beliefs, who are we to force a completely opposite path from one moment to the next? And, being extremely sincere, are we really different from others in HAVING DIFFICULTIES?!

Once we've been led or have led ourselves down the wrong paths, we need to leave that path. But there's no teleportation on this path. So, if we're 200 kilometers away from the starting point, we'll have to make the journey back.

On the way back, we revisit the steps we took, feeling the pain, which is painful but essential. We'll return to the starting point to then move on to path B, which, in the end, was best for us. We don't teleport from one reality to another. Life is what it is.

Those in pain have, in their past and life journey, a reason to be in pain. There's a reason to think negatively and feel bad.

Respect that. Reflect more on your reactions of insensitivity and indifference to others' DIFFICULTIES.

Don't try to plant flowers in a soil that needs healing first. The healing of the soil comes before planting the flower, even though flowers are good and perhaps even the ultimate goal.

Not everyone moves at the same speed as you.

Not everyone has the same life and past as you.

Some are much more familiar with pain, and that's why they feel fear and are more avoidant; they need to try more and more. And that's okay.

Some are much more familiar with imposition, conservatism, which is why they are afraid to fly, to break free, to try something new, and that's why they need more time to leave their cages or, if already free, to finally fly.

Some have much more negative experiences with trust, which is why they shy away from help.

Some are much more familiar with trauma, which is why they continue to live in repetitive patterns due to guilt, distortions of reality, and they also need more time.

Exercise patience and empathy. If you're unwilling to do so, it's important to recognize that the person facing challenges isn't the only one with difficulties. Can you see that?

Our mental and emotional life is built on our experiences.

If the experience is not yours, don't force the other's reaction, as if we could suddenly teleport from one reality to another.

Nothing that hurts is made up.

Don't act as if you were a superhuman being of reason or ready to live, and others are weak in action or attitude.

Practice empathy, and you will see it change - within you.