#and despite that she talks to him and tends to his grave

[petitincendie]

also i really appreciate the fandom has kind of absorbed the idea that pre-reanimation, the creature can hear and maybe feel but not see, like he’s in some sort of limbo

[silasoctakiseron]

I understand why this is the case, to be clear, because what we see of his character is extremely limited, but I find that so much fanon characterization of Colum Asht relies on the presumption that he's a normal person. Specifically, that he's a normal person who could be rehabilitated by people treating him normally.

In context, this is generally true, because he exists primarily in relation to an obsessive religious zealot whose external socialization consists primarily of telling people about themselves with zero regard for whether that's a normal or decent thing to do in context. Because we see Colum, with very few exceptions, constantly attached to Silas throughout GTN, he looks significantly more like a regular person who's sort of being forced to drag around a purse dog who bites. I believe no one has ever deserved to step outside for a cigarette and stare at nothing more than Colum; again, I understand where the characterization comes from. I do however think it's wrong. This post is very long. Sorry or whatever.

Colum Asht is deeply, fundamentally Eighth. I've talked before (warning: another long post) about the fact that Houses have individual cultures, rather than personality traits. Colum is exactly as bound up in Eighth religious practices as Silas is, even though those religious practices are explicitly used to oppress him into an early grave rather than elevate him to a position of power.

Until the full implications of Lyctorhood come to light, at no point does Colum ever reject a wholehearted embrace of Eighth beliefs. I think a lot of people consider the argument he has with Silas in ch. 28 to be a criticism of the religious beliefs Silas embodies, and I sincerely could not disagree more. Colum is angry about the fact that Silas has grown into someone who could be deliberately duplicitous and lie to another person to take advantage of them. He might be angry about the institutional processes that made him that way. He does not believe that this means that he, personally, should have expanded rights over his body or that his cavaliership to Silas is something he could or would walk away from. He does not believe that Silas is wrong with regard to his attitudes toward the Ninth as a whole.

We know this because Colum isn't exclusively following Silas around throughout the book, and he takes actions independently that are still indicative of deeply ingrained religious bigotry. Colum is perfectly allowed to talk to other people, but individually refuses on principle to talk to Gideon one-on-one or be in a room with her outside of a specific social context. Colum is explicitly not apologetic about taking Gideon's weapons from her when she comes into the Eighth's rooms despite being aware that it places her at a disadvantage and requires her to trust people who actively distrust her.

Even when Silas is present and seems to have more power over Colum's actions, Colum isn't uncomfortable doing things like asking Gideon to leave a common space entirely so Silas doesn't have to try to consume food and look at her at the same time. He wholly expects Gideon to acquiesce to this, not happily, but at least without argument. Colum isn't at all fazed by Silas accusing an entire room of people of being faithless sinners for refusing to bow to the will of the Order.

Silas' methods aren't Colum's methods, and Colum seems normal in comparison to him because he's significantly quieter about his beliefs and doesn't always follow Silas to every rhetorical extreme. Colum tends to do the polite thing where Silas is extremely blunt. He won't be in a room with Gideon or speak to her alone, but he'll bow to her before he leaves. Colum is sitting at the Fifth's dinner party speaking to Babs in some way that sounds normal enough for Babs to keep haranguing him, while Silas is telling Ianthe her parents should have been willing to experiment more when she was born dying/dead. Either way, neither of them acknowledge Harrow's existence.

Colum doesn't disagree with the basic religious principles on which Silas generally acts. Colum is fine with that shit. If Silas hadn't tried to resort to lying and taking advantage of another person to achieve his ends in a manner offensive to Colum's sense of honor and morality, there's zero evidence that Colum would have found anything else about his conduct objectionable enough to raise as an issue.

All this to say that I think if Magnus Quinn invited Colum for a pint he would show up and be reasonably respectful and courteous the entire time while calmly saying what to literally any other person would be the most deranged religious claptrap they'd ever heard. Colum thinks it'd be more humane to simply nuke the Ninth out of existence too fast for anyone to feel it rather than conducting a systematic inquisitorial dismantlement of the church involving spiritual torture. Colum is referring to necro/cav relationships using insanely antiquated and offensive terminology that he genuinely believes is the polite and considerate way to talk about them as opposed to deliberately derogatory language more commonly employed on the Eighth. The second Colum leaves Magnus orders himself five shots and includes them on his expense report.

[penvisions]

stages of devotion {away from the city}

Pairing: Tired Dad! Joel Miller x Experienced Camper! Reader

Summary: The neighboring campsite hosts a tired dad who seems to be ill-equipped for what he openly admits was a rather impromptu getaway with his teenage daughter. Thankfully, you keep extra supplies in your hatchback and are willing to share.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: canon typical language, cussing, brief mention of bleeding injury, sexual tension, pining, mutual pining, fluffiness, super soft yearning, sexual content, adult content, piv, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, depraved descriptions of the male body, just a light little piece for me!

A/N: hoping this isn't as lame as it seems in my head. imposter syndrome is flaring, y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

“God dammit.” A deep, gravely voice solemnly murmurs from the next site over. Slightly muffled from inside the tent the broad-shouldered man had dipped into shortly after pulling into the parking spot in a dark blue trunk. He had managed to get it pitched in a miraculously short amount of time despite the giggling and bouncing teen tangling the guy lines and rucking up the corners of the tarp underneath.

“Everything okay, dad?” The teen in question asked as she popped up from the cooler she was digging around in, a can of soda in her grip.

“…yeah, everything’s good, baby girl.” She glanced over at you with a roll of her eyes, not believing him for a second and needing someone to share in the moment. Before she could call him on the obvious lie, a loud hissing sound ruffled the side of the tent, billowing it out in a rather funny way.

Trying to keep your laughter low to avoid attention, you got up from your spot tending to the flames of your fire, foiled single use pan over the grill plate of the pit. A casserole you had parbaked last night in preparation for today. It was a broccoli cheddar one, the noodles and chicken beginning to season the air along with the crackling pine offered for visitors at the general store at the entrance to the park. The trunk of your SUV was silent as you lifted it and scanned the supplies you had stocked up in the space.

The spare air mattress you kept was on the smaller side, but it didn’t hurt to offer it to the little father and daughter duo. You pulled the fabric of your hiking shorts down a little, to cover up the bandage over a cut you had gotten earlier that afternoon on a hike before gripping the box and walked over to the edge of your site.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Uh, give me sec!”

“Sir?” You walked over the invisible line between yours and theirs, aware of the girl now fiddling with a small MP3 player, wired earbuds already popped into her ears beneath a mane of kinky hair pulled back into low buns at the back of her head. “I’ve got an extra mattress if yours has holes in it.”

“Huh?” His head appears in the opening of the tent, dark curls tousled and slightly damp with sweat. His brown eyes were wide, his plush lips parted underneath a thick moustache. He was on his knees, prompting you to look down as you approached the tent. He looked up at you through his hooded eyes and you swore your heart jumped in your chest. He had crows’ feet at the edges of them, those and the deep wrinkle in his brow adding to his appeal.

“This is my spare, you’re more than welcome to borrow it.”

His eyes flicked behind you, gauging where his daughter was and why he hadn’t heard an interaction from her before you appeared before him with a gift in your hand and kind words on your lips. She knew how to hold her own, but he still worried for her because the world could be cruel. Her music was a low hum even from here, telling him she was gone from his world for the meantime, social battery probably low or even just a bit bored with him out here in the middle of the state park while he set things up.

“Uh, thanks. Who’re-“

“I’m from just over there,” You lean back a little to wave to the left. He had seen the hatchback parked there all day but hadn’t seen the camper until just now. You must’ve snuck back into the grounds from a mid-morning hike that begins off the campgrounds or a nap you were possibly taking in your rather clean tent. He felt self-conscious at the way he was looking up at you with wide eyes, the dirt and dust that coated everything from his cooler to his own truck to the tent he was currently kneeling in. The trip was last minute, but it just reminds him of how much better he needs to be about upkeep in his own home and garage. The truck he could get away with, but he didn’t want to bring his work home with him more than he already did. “We’re campsite neighbors.”

“Mighty nice of ya, think mine has a leak somewhere.” The admittance is easy from his lips, shocking you in its honesty. The last time you had tried to offer similar help, you had been shot down and denied a chance. Told you didn’t know what you were talking about and that the person who had been having trouble knew more than you did, that you should mind your own business. Shaking the bad memory and relationship from your mind, you offer a polite smile and lean over a little to peer into the space around the man eclipsing the entrance.

“Mind if I take a look?” You set down the rather hefty box containing the spare bed and lean down to unhinge the ankle strap on your campsite sandals. It may be a little forward of you, but he seemed willing to discuss the issue, and you wanted to help any way you could. When he doesn’t protest, still gazing up at you with that doe eyed expression, you step into the rather dusty interior. The mattress is in the center of the back wall, the foot end of it facing toward your campsite. You crouch down to inspect the area around the boston valve. Just as you reached out a hand to feel around the base of it, you felt heat at your right side.

“’s over on the other side, I think.” The man’s voice was close, the baritone of it vibrating through you as you turned your own curious expression over to him. He seems to have composed himself, as he shuffles close to you, nearly pressing his broad chest into your side to motion to the left side of bed. The near contact makes you jolt, the way he had almost unconsciously fallen into your personal space. Not having been so close to anyone in recent memory makes the moment into more than it is on the surface, and you try not to let it get to your head. Just a friendly interaction, that’s all.

“Apologies,” He’s moving away just as suddenly as he had appeared beside you, leaving your heart racing in your chest so loud you hope he can’t hear it within the confines of the nylon enclosure. You can’t tell with the bright afternoon sunlight, if there’s a tinge to the tops of his ears and the back of his neck. But you’re pretty sure if there is one it’s because of his embarrassment of the thoughtless act and nothing more. A simple accident of invading a stranger’s space and nothing more.

He’s just a stranger who needed a bit of help, nothing more. Tamping down the runaway thoughts of the man and how calming his presence is even with just a few moments of interacting with him, you focus on the task at hand.

After a few moments of fiddling with the valve and ensuring its secure, you have him press down the palms of his hands on the top of the mattress as you scoot it out to feel where the air is leaking from.

There’s a slit in the groove that helps to support the weight of whoever lays atop it, barely visible.

“Ah, yeah. It’s here.” You switch places with him and he sees what you’re talking about.

“Shit,” He’s rubbing a hand over the dark scruff on his chin, dragged down the column of his neck as he realizes it’s not even a hole but a tear. A mighty long one that he’s incapable of fixing out here with no duct tape or putty.

“No worries, you can use the spare I brought over.” Standing up, you clap your hands to rid them of the dust that you had gathered on them. Doing the same with your knees, you glance around the space and realize how small it is. “Is this the only tent you brought?”

“No, uh, Sarah – my girl out there,” Joel is hunched over, the inside of the tent not tall enough for him to stand at his full height, he’s following your form as you exit, taking the offered box that contains the solution to his current problem. “This one’s hers. Gotta get mine set up. Was just gonna give her mine if hers was damaged. Saved me the pain of sleeping on the ground.”

“I’ve got a small handheld vacuum, if you want to get the dust cleared up for her.” You offer with a slight smile, the small worry of overstepping making you self-conscious. “Just…if you want to.”

He pauses as he places the box beside the slowly deflating bed he had tried to set up. His eyes catch yours and you see something flash in them.

“’m not normally this unprepared, but she was…well, she was havin’ a bad week so we packed up after school and just hit the road.”

“Hey, no worries at all! I totally get needing to get away sometimes. That’s why I have enough to offer you my spare. Keep a bit in the car, a bit in the garage. Kinda ready to go whenever I feel the need.”

“It’s much appreciated.” His own lips twist up and you feel butterflies between your ribs. He’s effortlessly handsome, his chocolate curls mused and his face showing the years he’s spent raising his daughter and no doubt working hard to do it.

“I’ll just go grab that real quick then, leave you to finish setting up.” You crook your elbow and point back to your own campsite, but your feet stick to the ground when you see Joel crouched back down on the ground in his simple tee and jeans. His biceps flex with the way he begins to roll the remaining air out of the no-good mattress, catching your attention like a cat to a sunbeam.

“You’re an angel, can’t believe we lucked out with such a cool neighbor.” Joel chuckles to himself as he works, unaware of your watching gaze. “Last time we had this older couple that didn’t believe she was mine. Kept asking if she was okay or needed any help.”

“S-Sounds like a nightmare.” The lump that appears in your throat sticks even after you attempt to swallow it down. You couldn’t imagine the stress that caused, even if just fleetingly. They were obviously bonded, their easy temperance with each other speaking volumes for those around.

“Much better this time around, despite the faulty mattress.” He looks up once it’s rolled up and secured with velcro ties. His smile is brighter, reaching his eyes in a way that makes them sparkle. “Name’s Joel, and the tone-deaf teenager out there is Sarah.”

You look over your shoulder at the dancing, twirling teenager. She’s still got her music playing a touch too loud, her lips mouthing along to most of the words. Some of them she sings aloud, and it’s…it is rather tone-deaf. But it brings a smile to your face all the same, she’s allowed to feel like she can be herself around her father. That’s an impressive feat, that they seem so close with no underlying awkwardness or feelings of insecurity.

Turning back to him, you offer your own introduction.  

The sounds of Joel finishing setting up his campsite fill the air but aren’t bothersome. Just a part of the afternoon that grows into the evening. Others showing up as well, the sound of rubber mallets securing tent spikes in the soft ground, of vinyl and tarp being stretched out and shifted into place, of grills being filled with charcoal and the sizzling of food as it hits the hot grates. Laughter and soft conversations float through the air amid the gentle breeze and you sigh as you sit down at your table with a bowl of the casserole that had finished cooking.

The peaceful reverie is enhanced by the infectious giggling of Sarah, the teenage girl just over the invisible line between the campsites. Joel’s own carefree laughter making your chest feel light. They’ve got their stuff all set up, the propane grill Joel brought working hard as he cooks what looks like too much food for just the two of them. But they both load their plates up and settled at their picnic table with freshly opened drinks from the cooler.

You feel the look before it registers, so caught up in the book gripped between your hands. It’s been on your list for far too long, a few pages read here and there throughout your hectic day, before bed as you try to wind down but end up passing out with it flattened on your chest. But now, the reading seems to be disrupted in the form of Joel. He’s at the edge of your space, calling out your name.

An offer for food if you wanted some, that there was a little bit of everything and plenty of it if you cared to join them. With no thought for the passage you had just been immersed in, you close the book and leave it in the seat of your camp chair. The vinyl hushes with the wight of the paper but you pay it no mind as you ask after what all he’s got and pick up a fresh beer from your cooler.

Easy conversation flowed and soon your laughter rung in the air alongside theirs.

Sarah had gone to bed after a bit of gentle prodding from Joel. Her head had bobbed a few times, trying her hardest to stay up despite her fluttering eyes and deep breaths as she sat in front of the dwindling fire alongside you both.

They hadn’t been able to get one going in their own pit, too much debris left behind from the previous inhabitants. So yours had been stoked and kept alive for hours now as night fell. Their chairs had been effortlessly moved beside yours, surrounding the once roaring warmth, something you hadn’t minded in the slightest. He’s walking back up to now, hands in his pockets and a flannel added over his tee. He looks so cozy, so at home now that he’s gotten settled.

He sighs heavily as he plops back down in the chair beside your own, scooting it closer now that you’re alone. You can smell the lingering scent of his cologne on the new addition of clothing and it has you unconsciously leaning into his space.

“Mm, you smell good.”

“Thanks, darlin’. You smell mighty good yourself.” He’s smirking when your eyes snap up at the realization that you just said that out loud.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t-“

“’s okay. But I’ve been wonderin’ something.” His tone tilts, pitches low as he regards the fire that’s more smoldering ashes than flames in the pit. The shadows cast over his profile take your breath away, make your heart ache for how beautiful he is. He’s a good man, if your evening together was anything to go by.

A devoted father, a caring family man, a capable man who worked himself perhaps too much sometimes.

“Y-yeah?” You feel the air shift, something sparking between you two now that you’re alone. You wonder if he’s about to tell you his wife is back home waiting for their return, if he’s going to ask you why you keep stealing ogling glances his way. If he’s going to reveal to you that he’s onto you and doesn’t like the attention. But his question is exactly what you wanted to hear, because you have the exact same one for him.

“You got anyone waitin’ for you back home?” Joel’s voice is even, despite the way one of his hands is tapping away at the armrest of his chair. The empty beer in his mesh cupholder sweating and the label is peeled off. It’s endearing to see his quirks, the man rather enticing despite only knowing him for a few hours. Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies tickling your insides as you realized he may be as attracted to you as you are to him. Unless he was just making polite conversation now that it was just the two of you…

“Like a boyfriend?” You dare to ask, seeking clarification. Feeling the slight charge in the air is making you a little dizzy, the looks you had caught him giving you when you were busy helping Sarah with her smores only making you feel even more so as you recall the way his eyes had shown in the amber firelight. You lean toward him, finding that he had done the same. There are only a few inches between you now, elbows crooked and bodies curved toward each other. You try to disguise your surprise, but you’re sure he can see in as his lips quick up on one side.

“Like a boyfriend.” His breath is so warm as it puffs against your lips. He’s so, impossibly close and it wouldn’t take but a tilt of your head to close the gap.

“Oh.” Your eyes search between his own, looking for something behind them. Finding no ill intent, no underlying darkness. There’s only hope flickering there, shielding the loneliness you can sense in him, the same that you mask in your own life. You feel your lips pull up into a teasing smile as you glance down at his plush lips. “No.”

“Good.” And he’s closing the gap. Hands coming up to cradle your face and nose brushing against yours as his lips capture yours.

The next morning, you’re packing up the remainder of your stuff as quietly as possible. The sun has yet to rise, the sky barely beginning to lighten on the horizon. Joel is snoring just loudly enough that you can pick up the sound coming from inside his tent. You don’t want to bother him, seeing as he’s resting after a rather long night. You feel the ghost of his lips against yours, the way they had dragged down your throat, your collarbone, lower still beneath your shoved off flannel and rucked up tank top.

“Don’t normally do this kinda thing.” He groaned into your skin as his exploring fingers undid the small tie at the front of your shorts. The thickness of them as they hooked in the waistband and pulled made you dizzy, made your body clench around nothing at the heady thought of them delving lower.

“What? Make out with strangers?” You huff a giddy laugh that turns into a choked whimper as his knuckles graze between your legs, feeling the dampness there. He presses close, and you feel the pressure of his hand against your swollen lips, can feel the way he slowly parts them with gentle movements. Fingertips find your sensitive bud and your body glitters, eyes fluttering shut.

“Make out with anyone. Been so focused on other stuff.”

“Focus on me then, just for now.” You whisper as you reach for him, guiding his face back up to yours and kissing him deeply. He swallows the moan that bursts from your chest as his fingers find your fluttering entrance. He’s knuckle deep and crooking them before you can catch your breath. It hitches, leaves you and causes you to break away from him when they nudge a spot just right, lighting up your body in a way it hadn’t been in ages.

“That’s the spot, huh darlin’?” He thrusts his fingers in a slow, deep rhythm. Feeling your soft walls clench around him, the jolt to your body and the arching of your back telling him he’s found exactly the right spot. “C’mon, you feel so damn good. Lemme see how pretty you are.”

Through a heavy-lidded gaze, you see him hovering above you. His outline stark in the glow of the string lights strung up around your campsite. His brown eyes are glittering and blown wide, his lips are parted and panting for breath, chest dusted with the same dark hair atop his head. When had he even taken his shirt off? It doesn’t matter, you lose the thought as your hands begin to explore his chest. Nails raking lightly down his pecs and toward the softness of his belly. Belt unbuckled and pants undone, but still secure around his waist.

Heat encompasses you, your body alight as he beckons you closer and closer to the edge. You fall with a cry of his name when he leans down to nip at your breast, nipple taut between his teeth. He guides you through it, fingers dragging it out before he gently removes them from your fluttering core and twitching clit.

“That’s a pretty sight indeed, darlin’.” He kisses your temple, your cheeks, your forehead. A grunt of surprise falls from him when you surge up and wrap your arms around his neck and use your feet to push his jeans off. His rumbling laughter fills the dark space as he quickly pushes them off all the way and kicks them off the bed. “Gonna let me have you, sweet girl, gonna let me feel you come on my cock?”

“Fuck, Joel, yes, please.” You rut against him as his erection bobs up toward his stomach, needing more, needing to feel him. This safe, beautiful stranger you hadn’t known existed until today. He was intoxicating. The hot, long line of him hard where you grind against the underside of him. He groans a deep, guttural sound at the feeling, the slick of your swollen lips and the beads of precum falling from his tip making for such an easy glide.

His hand snakes down to guide himself a little lower, eliciting a cry from you when his head rubs roughly over your clit.

“Shh, shh, gotta be quiet now, don’t wanna wake the whole campground, do we?” He’s watching your face twist in pleasure, the way your bottom lip plumps between teeth as you try to quiet yourself. He tries to muffle his own loud moan when he finally pushes in. Everything stills for the barest of moments, eyes meeting and breath hitching. Before he’s snapping his hips against yours, bending over you to lift a leg over his shoulder and his teeth grit as he tries to keep his sounds restrained.

You’re lost to the feeling of his body moving against yours, moving inside yours. He’s filling you so deeply, hitting that spot you didn’t believe any guy could find and it’s making your vision sparkle bright white.’

Your face heats as you recall the way he had desperately asked ‘where’ in that gravely twang of his. The feeling of him still filling you, dampening your underwear as he dribbled out a little bit at a time. It had been rather risky a move, but the pills you took everyday would help prevent any…mishaps with the handsome man you hadn’t expected to meet on your own impromptu excursion from the city.

Austin.

He was from there too and something compelled you to write your name and number on a blank page of your small notepad. A little note saying to call you for a coffee sometime because it had been nice to talk to him and his daughter. You left the remainder of the casserole in the tin and secured the crumpled foil over it before cautiously lifting the lid to their large cooler. Thankfully there was space for the extra food, they would need it with their additional night in the park.

But you needed to go, real life responsibilities calling your name back from the slice of reprieve you had sought out.

Picking up the packed tent, the handles rough in your hand like Joel’s calloused palms, you looked the campsite over one last time. Everything was packed now, the city beckoning you back though this camping trip had provided you with something you hadn’t had a taste of in a long time.

Hope.

next part

taglist: @dontknow446 @copperhalfcent @tuquoquebrute @sawymredfox

@mareagirls @insidethegardenwall @wintersquirrel @pastelpinkflowerlife

@yxtkiwiyxt @here-briefly @pedroswife69 @lotusbxtch @amyispxnk

@for-a-longlongtime @burntheedges @tonysopranosrobe @littlemisspascal

@the-mandawhor1an

banners and dividers by the lovely @/saradika-graphics and @/cafekitsune

[pokemonblack3white3]

some pla warden/noble headcanons

I'd love to draw these but I don't think I have the time nor spoons for that so I'll bestow these ideas onto you all via bulletted lists instead

Obsidian Fieldlands

Nobles can live much longer than ordinary pokemon. Wyrdeer is 60 and Kleavor is 340 years old.

Mai is 30 and Lian is 11.

Lian's mother was the previous warden, and while Lian was always lined up to take her place, it was not expected to happen so soon. One day while travelling between the Fieldlands and the Pearl Clan's settlement, she disappeared without a trace.

Mai was very friendly with Lian's mother despite the clan rivalries, and did her best to help ease Lian into his position.

When Lian's clothes get too dirty or torn, Mai usually mends them herself. Lian often steals Mai's clothes and ruins them, much to her annoyance.

Kleavor has known Lian since he was a baby. He is incredibly territorial over both his wardens and domains, and is still furious over the disappearance of his previous warden.

Despite how aggressive Kleavor can get, he and Wyrdeer are actually on fine terms. The main issue lies with Wyrdeer's fear of bug-types, so they respectfully avoid each other.

Mai often has to clear bug-types out of Wyrdeer's way, and her munchlax has become surprisingly strong due to this.

Lian loves to talk to anybody who will listen about his rocks, so Mai, Wyrdeer, and Kleavor have become somewhat of experts on the subject.

Kleavor has no qualms with Mai but an incredible amount of qualms with her munchlax. Mai does like Wyrdeer and steers clear of Grandtree Arena.

Crimson Mirelands

Lilligant is 500 and Ursaluna is 20.

Calaba is 99 and Arezu is 23.

Calaba has outlived 2 nobles. The first was already elderly when Calaba became a warden, and the second was sickly since its birth, resulting in a shorter life. Calaba began practicing medicine to care for it.

Calaba was witness to days when there were bloody conflicts between the clans, and it resulted in her distrust of the Diamond Clan.

Arezu suffers a lot from imposter syndrome. Her attempt to try and quell Lilligant on her own was not her first instance of sneaking around the clans, as she usually tries to solve things on her own instead of asking for help. This was not helped by the fact that Calaba was incredibly nit-picky about everything Arezu did, and made sure Adaman knew about all her complaints.

They began to get along better after Lilligant was quelled, but it took a long time for Arezu to stop feeling like a cornered prey animal around Calaba.

While Calaba prefers for her hair not to be touched, she and Arezu will often spend hours cleaning and combing the knots out of Ursaluna's fur. Ursaluna loves rolling around in the muck.

Ursaluna is a giant teddy bear. He's quite sad that his intimidating appearance tends to scare people when he runs at them in excitement.

Since Calaba is too old to play as much as Ursaluna would like to, Ursaluna's most frequent playmate is Lilligant. Lilligant was quite close with the previous Lord Ursaluna, and delights in doting on her son.

On rainy days, Lilligant will usually set down her roots and remain still to preserve her energy, but on the rare sunny days, she delights in dancing under the sun. She often coerces Arezu into joining her, even though Arezu is an awful dancer.

While Arezu was recovering on sunny days, after Lilligant was done dancing she would sit next to Calaba and sunbathe until Ursaluna inevitably got bored demanded to play.

Ursaluna loves playing with Arezu, but she finds him a little intense and hates getting dirty.

Cobalt Coastlands

Arcanine is 2 and Basculegion is over 1,000 years old. There have only ever been 3 basculegion nobles.

Palina is 27 and Iscan is 31.

After the previous Lord Arcanine's death, Iscan often visited his grave and brought Palina and her growlithes food he'd made. He was by far the kindest and most patient with Palina during that period.

Iscan has a collection of pearls, sea glass, and other nick-nacks Palina has given him. Her favorite things to gift him are treasures that match the color of his eyes.

Iscan has had his own problems with being considered unfit for his job, due to his fear of ghost-types.

Basculegion is the only ghost-type Iscan can stand. When Iscan gets anxious, Basculegion is the best at calming him down.

Arcanine takes his duties very seriously. He tends to get a bit snappish with the more relaxed Basulegion, who will often playfully splash Arcanine when he gets too close to the shore.

Palina can still bring out the inner puppy in Arcanine.

Arcanine is incredibly fond of Iscan, both for how he helped him and Palina following his father's death and because Iscan gives the best pets (and treats!).

Basculegion and Palina also get along quite well and enjoy diving together.

The four of them often spend time together as a group, having picnics on the beach of Firespit Island.

Coronet Highlands

Electrode is 70 and Sneasler is 170.

Ingo is 38 and Melli is 19.

Melli was a bit of a nobody until Electrode chose him as his warden. It's why he takes so much pride in his job.

Electrode was one of the weaker of the previous lord's children, a runt of the litter. It was entirely unexpected for him to become the next lord. Electrode chose Melli because he recognized himself in Melli.

Occasionally, the clan that serves a noble switches. Before Ingo, Sneasler's warden was from the Diamond Clan. When her old warden died, she refused to choose a new one and began to get aggressive with members of the Diamond Clan when they tried to force her to do so. Choosing Ingo as her warden was entirely an act of spite, but she grew to truly care for him.

Even though she is happy with her new warden, Sneasler is still very bitter towards the Diamond Clan. She especially despises Melli.

Electrode likes Ingo just fine, but Sneasler also dislikes Elecrtrode for his affiliation with the Diamond Clan and doesn't like for Ingo to hang around him or his warden. Electrode is also a bit mishevious and that clashes terribly with Sneasler's tendency to hold grudges.

When they first met, Ingo had a habit of subconsciously treating Melli like he would Emmet. Melli is an only child and found it incredibly unnerving. Ingo has since reigned it in, but it tends to pop out again on occasion.

Besides the torches, Melli has sabotaged other efforts Ingo has made to make traversing the Highlands safer. The day a fence Ingo put up saved Melli from falling off a cliff was the most vindicating moment of Ingo's life.

Alabastor Icelands

Braviary is 120 and Avalugg is the hero's original companion.

Gaeric is 42 and Sabi is 7.

Braviary's previous warden was from the Pearl Clan and a close friend of Gaeric's. Sabi received a vision of his death and when nobody would believe her, travelled all the way to the Icelands on her own instead an attempt to save him. She arrived in time to watch him die. A lot of the Pearl Clan resent Sabi for this and for Braviary choosing her as his next warden.

Gaeric ended up doing a lot of Sabi's training, since the next closest warden was Melli who was rather young himself- and generally ill-suited for the job of a teacher.

Gaeric and Braviary's previous warden were both trained by the same person. Their mentor tempered Gaeric's impatience by making him spend days climbing Avalugg and cleaning him as well as removing any unwanted pests. Gaeric used this method of training on both Irida and Sabi, and the girls have bonded over their hatred of it.

Sabi learned to braid her hair from Gaeric.

Braviary used to be very distant with his wardens, instead going off on his own to stop problems before they even began, but he is inseperable from Sabi. He now spends much less time scouring the Icelands for danger and instead passes the days playing with Sabi. He is incredibly paranoid something will happen to her, as well.

Braviary was friends with Gaeric even before Sabi became her warden, and their shared grief brought them closer.

Avalugg spends most of his time sleeping and usually only moves if something important is happening (such as receiving a new warden) or something truly dangerous has occurred that Braviary alone cannot handle, though such a thing that has not happened in the current Lord Braviary's lifetime.

Avalugg is still alive in modern times, the people of Sinnoh having unknowingly built Snowpoint City on his back. He hibernates until the region needs him again.

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 2

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, general filth, threesome, smut, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), and Rhaenyra ‘talks you through it’ Targaryen

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.6K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“Darling, you need to wake up,” Rhaenyra coaxes, stroking her fingers through your hair. “The tournament is today and the maids have already drawn you a bath.”

You groan, rolling away from your wife and back into Daemon’s warm side. “Five more minutes,” you grumble. 

Rhaenyra snorts out a laugh, “we both know what that will turn into.”

“It’s not fair,” you whine. “Why does Daemon get to sleep in? Isn’t he competing in this damn thing?” You pull the blankets up over your head in an attempt to shut out the light.

Rhaenyra yanks the blankets down, and the sudden chill from the morning air is enough to wake both you and Daemon. “Now you’re both up.”

You grumble, rolling out of bed and attempting to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Can you pick a dress for me, Nyra?” 

Rhaenyra hums her agreement and rifles through your wardrobe to find something “tourney-appropriate.” You gaze at your wife, awestruck. It’s been six months since you woke up in Westeros. Y/N from a year ago couldn’t even imagine herself married, let alone to someone like Rhaenyra and Daemon. But now? You couldn’t really fathom life without them. Things were just….easy with them. Of course you argued, but the three of you never went to bed angry. You weren’t one to believe in soulmates, but the way they fit so effortlessly into you could convince you otherwise.

You softly pad across the room, sliding your arms around Rhaenyra’s waist and resting your chin on her shoulder. Pecking her cheek, you watch as she sifts through the wardrobe. “Does it really matter what I wear?”

“This is your first public outing since you lost your memories, of course it matters,” Rhaenyra chides. “I want this day to be perfect for you.”

You laugh light, nuzzling into Nyra and trailing kisses up her neck. “If you want this day to be perfect, we could just forget the tourney and make our own entertainment here.” 

“You’re insatiable.” Rhaenyra says, turning around to kiss you deeply. You moan into her mouth as she grips your hips and pulls you closer into her. She nips at your lower lip, drawing a gasp from you. Your hands fly up to grip her hair, the white locks soft and neat despite last night’s activities.

Rhaenyra breaks the kiss, hands trail up your sides as she pulls your shift up and over your head. You shiver at the cool air, but Nyra chases that away as she kisses and nips her way down your neck. A curse is stuck in your throat as Rhaenyra plucks at your nipple with deft fingers. Your hands cradle her head as you try to pull her back up into a kiss, but Nyra bats ur hands away and laves her tongue over your nipple. “Nyra, please,” you whine.

She glances to the bed behind, a smirk playing on her lips. “It appears we have an audience,” she purrs. You look over your shoulder to see Daemon, lounging on the bed in nothing more than his wedding rings. His back is against the headboard as he lazily strokes his cock. “What do you say darling?” Rhaenyra asks as she turns you to face Daemon fully. “Should we give him a show?”

You nod desperately, wanting nothing more than for Rhaenyra to touch you again.

“Use your words.” Daemon’s voice is gravely from sleep. 

“Please.”

“Please?” Rhaenyra teases. “I can’t give you anything unless you tell me exactly what it is you want.” Her left arm slides around your waist, holding you in place.

“Please touch me.”  

“I am touching you.” She nibbles at your ear as she tightens her grip on your waist.

“You know what I me-”

“Oh I don’t think I do. Where does my needy little dragon want to be touched?” Rhaenyra asks. “Here?” Her right hand ghosts across your cheek. “Or maybe….here?” Her hand falls to tweak at your nipple. 

“Ah-”

“No, I think you want me here,” Nyra purrs as she slips a hand between your thighs. You widen your stance, rocking your hips forward into her palm. She rubs tight circles on your clit as she reaches her other hand up to pluck at your nipples.

“You give in to her too easily,” Daemon chastises. “If you keep spoiling her like this, she’ll never want to leave our chambers.”

“My prince, don’t you have a tournament to prepare for?” you say as you turn your head to catch Nyra’s lips.

“Hmm, mouthing off are we?” Daemon hums in response. “I can think of a far better use for those pretty lips.”

“If you win today, I just might consider putting these ‘pretty lips’ to a use,” you tease.

Daemon’s gaze darkens and he motions you forward as he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed, spreading his thighs. You lick your lips in anticipation, stalking forward and dropping to your knees before him. Nuzzling into his knee, you kiss up his thigh and stop as you reach his cock. “Open,” he orders, slapping his cock lightly against your tongue. 

You shift your thighs, trying to get some friction. “There’s my obedient little slut,” Daemon purrs. “All that fire just disappears the second she’s on her knees.”

His fingers wind into your hair, guiding his cock into your mouth. You eagerly lap at the head of his cock, lightly sucking. “That’s it,” he moans. “Keep going, my love. Take me a little deeper.”

You moan as you bob your head to take him deeper, sliding a hand between your legs to toy with your clit. 

“None of that.” Rhaenyra says, pulling your hand away from your core before her hands replace Daemon’s to grip your hair. She sets a harder pace than Daemon, fucking your mouth down onto his cock. 

Spit drips down your chin as your moans vibrate along his shaft. “Fuck,” Daemon swears. “You feel so good, my love–taking me so well.”

“Like she’s made for us,” Rhaenyra finishes. 

Your hands grip at Daemon’s thighs as you fall into Nyra’s rhythm. You gag lightly as she forces you down a little too far. She pulls you back instantly, kissing your forehead in an apology before guiding you back down. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs. “Can you take a little more?” 

You attempt to nod as she slowly presses you down, and you feel the head of his cock bump the back of your throat.

“Gods,” Daemon moans. 

“Fuck, look at you.” Rhaenyra murmurs. “Halfway down his cock and gagging for more. You can keep going for me, can’t you?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you’re determined. You swallow around his cock as you let Rhaenyra guide you down.

“Eyes up, I want to watch as you take me down your throat.”

Your eyes flutter as you meet his gaze. You struggle to get the last few inches, but even your breathing before sliding home. 

“Good girl,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Hold it.” Her hand holds you firmly down at the base of Daemon’s cock. “Right there.”

“Fuck, I’m so close.” Daemon breaths out. He moans, his hips bucking lightly as he struggles to restrain himself from fucking your face.

“Can you take it for us?” Nyra leans down to nip at your earlobe. “I want you to make Daemon come. You can do that, just a little more.”

Daemon swears as his restraint breaks. He thrusts up into your mouth, and you grip his thighs tighter in response. He climaxes with a low groan. Rhaenyra grips your hair harder, pulling your head back so you’re staring up at her.

“Don’t swallow,” she orders. “Open wide, let me see the mess he made.” You whine, eyes rolling back at her words. Your mouth drops open, and Rhaenyra groans at the sight. She leans down, kissing you fiercely, swiping her tongue across yours to taste Daemon’s cum.

You moan into the kiss, pulling at her dress in an attempt to get it off. 

“Later love,” she says, pulling away from you. “Your bath is getting cold.”

“But I didn’t-”

“We know,” Daemon smiles wickedly. “But I have a tourney to prepare for.” He wanders over to the wardrobe, pullings a pair of pants on before stopping to plant a kiss on your lips.

“Not fair,” you whine. “I didn’t get to come.” Your hands reach for his waistband.

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his. 

“Later,” Daemon promises. “After I win the tournament, I promise to lock you in these rooms and fuck that needy cunt until you’re begging me to stop.”

NOTE: Should I…..turn this into an actual series with an actual plot….nahhhh. Maybe later. For now I’m just enjoying writing their dynamic. Can’t wait to drop part 3 for ya’ll.- Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra

Want to be added to a taglist? Click HERE!

[violetlunette]

Twisted Wonderland RoleSwap AU_Master List (WIP)

I’m playing around with called a TWST RoleSwap AU where characters switch lives with another.

For example:

If Grim and Lilia switch roles then Grim will be the wise eccentric mentor figure raising several cubs. And meanwhile, Lilia will be the gremlin who works as half a student with whoever fills Yuu’s role.

Backgrounds will be altered to accommodate characters.

Say Malleus; if he takes the role of Yuu then there will be an addition to his backstory where he was sent to earth. The basics will remain the same. Like how in Riddle’s story he has a toxic mother. Or how Vil’s has him being an actor who seems stuck in villain roles and in second place to Neige. The main change is how each character reacts to it based on their personality.

When all the roles are switched I plan to twist them all into a story. (Eventually...)

For now, let’s lay some groundwork. Due to the limited options in the polls, I won’t be able to list every character. So, please either tag or comment if the character you would like to see is not listed. I will count them the best I can.

Here are the roles that have been filled;

Ramshackle;

Yuu's Role: Najma

Najma is a cunning young woman who suddenly finds herself in the mysterious Twisted Wonderland. To stay at the magical Night Raven College she pretends not only to be a mage, but a boy as well. Thankfully half the students are more feminine than her.

While at the school she discovers many strange mysteries of Twisted Wonderland’s past as well as her own involvement with the world.

Grim's Role: Yuu

Yuu is a mysterious figure Najma meets the moment she awakens in Twisted Wonderland. Though there’s trouble during their first meeting, Najma and Yuu are forced to work together in order to stay at NC. But what mysteries does this strange being carry?

(Note: The Shrimp is only used to represent “Yuu.” As of now there are no plans to make them a sentient shrimp.)

Ramshackle Ghosts' Role: Skully J. Graves

A ghost at Ramshackle who quickly becomes attached to Najma due to his years of loneliness. (Maybe overly so.) He has a very firm idea of how things should be and doesn't like to deviate from this mindset. Despite this, he is very gentlemanly and courteous.

Housewardens;

Malleus Draconia Role: Leona Kingscholar

Descended from a powerful magical creature and one of the most famed families in wonderland, Leona is one of the most powerful mages in the world. This immense magical ability often contrasts with his lazy demeanor. He tends to treats others with an imperious attitude.

Leona Kingscholar Role: Malleus Draconia

The second-born prince in his homeland, Malleus is highly respected on campus and extremely talented in skill, rightfully earning his role as the Savanaclaw Housewarden. Yet his frightful demeanor often deters classmates and leaves him by his lonesome.

Riddle Rosehearts Role: Ace Trappola

The Heartslabyul house-warden with an upbeat personality and a mischievous streak. Even though the house is famed for it’s strict adherence to the rules, Ace seem to have a blatant disregard for them. Often it’s as if he is an agent of chaos warring on “order” itself.

Idia Shroud Role: Ortho Shroud

Upbeat, forthright, and brimming with curiosity, Ortho is caring and attentive housewarden to everyone in Ignihyde. But despite his cheer there appears to be a dark secret behind those bright yellow eyes. His family is also rumored to have connections to the mysterious phantoms that no one seems to want to talk about.

Vil Schoenheit Role: Epel Felmier

A famous actor and the Housewarden of Pomefiore. He is beloved for his dainty appearance with an ephemeral beauty, putting on pare with another actor. His looks often has him typecast to certain role and underestimated by the people around him. However, those who challenge him often come to regret this.

Kalim Al' Asim Role: Ruggie Bucchi

Despite being the heir to a rich and powerful family, Ruggie is someone always looking to make even more money through deals and schemes. In his words, “money makes the world go round, so let’s give it a spin!” He always tends to be behind the scenes of things, as if puppeting events.

Azul Ashengrotto Role: Kalim Al' Asim

Kalim is a kind soul who is always willing to benevolently help others. His generosity makes him an odd choice a house warden who are known for their calculating ways. It’s rumored that his merciful dispossession is just a sham as deals with him tend to never turn out the way they should.

Vice-Housewardens;

Trey Clover's Role; Deuce Spade

The brash and violent Vice Warden of Heartslabyul. He and Ace have known each other since childhood and are partners in chaos. He can be slow on the uptake, and his grades suffer as a result. (Note: He and Riddle tied, so I flipped a coin. [No, really.])

Ruggie Bucchi's Role; Jack Howl

Raising in a poor environment, Jack is always working and looking for opportunities to create a better life for himself. Often, this makes him too busy to hang out and make friends, making him an outcast within his dorm. He greatly admires Malleus for his leadership skills and strength.

Jade Leech's Role; Rook Hunt

Rook appears to be a kind, eccentric sort who is more than willing to lend a hand to those in need. Despite this, he seems to be one of the most feared individuals on campus and there always seems to be a playful gleam in his eye.

Jamil Viper; Azul Ashengrotto

Ruggie’s vice-warden and personal assistant, who always seems to be standing behind them. He and Ruggie have been together since childhood and appear to be quite close. However, there’s seems to be something other than cheer between those forced smiles and there always a plan waiting to unfold behind Azul’s gaze.

Rook Hunt; Jade Leech

Vice-warden of Pomefiore and Epel’s personal assistant. He is soft-spoken and courteous to everyone he deals with, the exception being his look-a-like Floyd with whom he has a sharper yet playful smile for.

Ortho Shroud; Idia Shroud

Ortho’s gloomy companion who shies away from socialization. He is so introverted that his body rarely—if ever--leaves Ortho’s dorm room. Instead, he will accompany Ortho through his tablet and create holograms when he needs to take form. He spends nearly all his time gaming online, or watching his favorite music bands.

Lilia Vanrouge; Silver

Leona’s vice-warden and overseer. He has a cool and collected persona and is so low-key that his calm demeanor often crosses over into a state of visible drowsiness. Some believe he passed this onto the Prince.

Other Students;

Ace Trappola Role; Riddle Rosehearts

A Heartslabyul first-year student who finds himself getting more and more annoyed with the chaos of his dorm that’s supposed to represent the strictness of the Queen.

Deuce Spade Role; Floyd Leech

An erratic first year whose mood swings make him fit in perfectly with the chaos of the dorm. That said, he doesn’t seem particularly happy about this fact. He is ofteen seen hovering around Ruddle.

Cater Diamond Role; Vil Schoenheit

A young man of striking beauty, he considers himself the fairest of all. He is big on social media and has many followers. He is one of the few voices of reason within Heartslabyul who isn’t afraid to stand up to the manic house wardens.

Jack Howl Role; Sebek Zigvolt

A LOUD live-wire student. In his zealous to impress Malleus, whom he admires, often expends a great deal of energy to accomplish very little. His brash nature tends to put him at odds with those around him. That said, he is one of the top students in his grade, often competing with Riddle.

Floyd Leech Role; Cater Diamond

One of Kalim’s assistants and one of his best friends. He knows his way around just about any social situation and a wizard with words, which comes in handy when dealing with Kalim’s clients. Despite his easy-going nature he seems to be the only one with his head not in the clouds.

Epel Felmier Role; Trey Clover

Trey is a humble first-year who constantly finds himself out of his comfort zone after Jade and Epel decide to take him under their wing. Though why they did so, even he has no idea. People often worry Jade is rubbing off on him.

Silver Role; Lilia & Grim

Lilia is Leona’s playful guard who often sneak up on unsuspecting students. Despite his easy-going nature, he takes his role as guard very seriously, though he seems more loyal to Silver than Leona. Despite being a fae he has no magic and thus had to enroll as one student with Grim.

Grim meanwhile, is a dire beast who often proclaims that he will one day surpass Leona as the greatest magician. He will eat anything and everything, and his tendency to get carried away often gets him and Lilia into trouble Jamil has to smooth over.

Sebek Zigvolt Role; Jamil Viper

Leona’s cunning and talented retainer. He is the most talented student of his year and isn’t shy about showing this. Though most his talent used to wrangle his fellow dorm members under control.

For reasons unknown, he seems interested in Najma.

NRC Staff;

Dire Crowley’s Role; Maleanor Draconia

Malleus’ Mother and the Princess Consort of the King of Briar Valley. Due to events of the past she is bias against non-fae, which leads to many to wonder why she became the headmistress of a school that is predominately humans and beastmen. Everyone fears her for her temper.

Crewel’s Role; Sam

A professor at Night Raven College who teaches the school's science curriculum, including potionology. Sam is friendly and charismatic, often calling his students by nicknames like "little imps".

Trien’s Role; Rollo Flamme

A stern old teacher who teaches the school's social studies curriculum, including the history of magic. He is a widely feared professor who is strict with students both in and out of class. He seems to detest his job and magic as a whole.

Vargas’ Role; Baul Zigvolt

Sebek’s stern grandfather. Despite always snapping at everyone like a croc, he is the most caring towards the students and the most protective (particularly his grandson, Sebek). He would rather die than admit this, however. Sebek often brags how he used to be a high ranking general.

Sam’s Role; Ernesto Foulsworth

A trickster who runs the school shop with his brother Gidel selling several odd trinkets he “picked up.” Despite always smiling and acting friendly enough, there always seems to be a tone of resentment behind his words. He often talks about his “friends.”

[futuremrscameron]

meet pogue!bunny

content warnings: sexual harassment, misogyny, bullying, mentioned violence, mentioned child hunger, referenced child abuse

pogue!bunny's reputation is one of heavy debate. is she the sweetest girl in kildare or an oppurtunistic whore who's faker than her boobs? depends on who you ask. she’s got a very bubbly outgoing personality and is willing to go above and beyond for her friends and family. the object of desire and jealousy for many but especially kook girls

family's orginally from louisiana and despite being generations removed from the state you can hear it in her accent. this is because she was raised by her grandma who alternated between speaking louisiana creole and english. she never knew her parents, they died when she was still a baby so she didn't grieve them like her grandmère and the community did. she still visits and tends to their graves in the family plot on her days off

jj was her only friend for a while. they knew of each other and their respective reputations at school and around town but didn’t interact until they got detention for “causing trouble”. jj fought some guys that were harassing her and she stood up for him when a teacher came by and he was used as a scapegoat by said students

they sit in their school's science lab on opposite sides of the classroom. she breaks the silence first, “you shouldn’t have done that.”

jj flicks another paper football at their sleeping teacher before turning his attention to her. “that’s funny 'cause i was thinking the same thing.”

she crosses her arms. “i’m serious. i can handle it, okay? it’s not worth getting black eyes over.”

"we've got different definitions of handling it," he winces as he makes a sudden turn in his chair.

she frowns and stands up, "that's it. i'm taking you to the hospital."

he holds a hand out, "now hold on, princess; last time i checked, ditching detention is a big no-no, and i don't think you wanna get in any more trouble, especially for me."

she fixes him with an unimpressed stare, "i'll live." she carries both their bags in front of her and helps him stand up. she wraps an arm around his waist, and he throws his arm around her shoulder. they slowly make their way to the door, not wanting to wake the sleeping man.

show slowly shuts the door behind them and lets out a sigh of relief. he chuckles, "you're on a roll with the rule-breaking today, huh? means i'm rubbing off on you already; that's record timing," he smirks.

"is that supposed to be a sex joke?" she tries to look offended but can't fight an amused smile from stretching across her face

he looks pleasantly surprised. "oh she's got jokes."

she shrugs, "maybe."

"beauty and brains!" she doesn't stop her laugh that time.

not the greatest at school. was constantly on the verge of failing until jj set her up with pope as a tutor. quickly fell for pope through their sessions.

"hi pope!" she jogs over to his locker, where he's talking to jj.

he turns and smiles, completely ignoring jj in favor of her. "oh, hey. how did the test go?"

she grins, "i passed! it's amazing; if you told me three months ago that i would understand algebra, i would've called you crazy." she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "couldn't have done it without you."

"that's not true. i've tutored a lot of students, and they still fail sometimes, so trust me when i say it was all you."

"well, a student is only as good as their teacher."

"well-"

jj rolls his eyes at their blatant flirting and claps, popping them out of the bubble they've formed. "well, if you crazy kids are done flirting, we've got somewhere to be." he gestures at the door.

she frowns at his crass interruption, "jj!"

pope pushes his shoulder, "dude!" he turns to back to her, remorse all over his face. "i'm sorry about him."

she shrugs, "no worries. i'll catch you later, yeah?"

he smiles, "yeah."

neither of them move. jj groans and drags pope away by his backpack's handle.

later that day, she gives jj hell about his actions over the phone.

"please, you should be thanking me. you looked you would cream your panties if he called you a 'good girl'."

she can almost hear his shit-eating grin over the phone. she blushes, “jj! don’t be gross!”

was a cart girl at the country club for a while until she was scouted by some old kook to become a bottle girl at the island club. she took it cause it pays way better and she wanted to help her grandma out with the bills even though she told her not to worry about them but quickly changed her tune after bunny pulled out her rolls of cash

gets harassed by kook girls on the regular for "trying to steal their boyfriends." when jj was working at the country club, he would offer to fight them for her or ask kiara to fight them. she thought it would be back to regularly scheduled programming when jj got fired, but they stayed away. she eventually finds out that jj cornered the ring leader when she was leaving the club and held a gun to her head

pogue!bunny's friendship with jj is confusing to everyone that knows them. the pogues are split into two categories: "jj's got an unrequited crush" and "they're fucking", luke thinks they're dating but believes she's out of his league, and bunny’s grandma thinks he’s nothing but trouble (she thinks pope’s a better match). his protectiveness and their physical affection does not help dispel the rumors. they don't realize that they're so close because they understand each other and where survivors and

“i love pope, but he is not that funny.” kiara shakes her head

kiara, john b, and jj sit in john b’s backyard, passing around a joint as they watch pope miss the obvious flirting from the newest addition to their group.

john b nods in agreement, but jj sighs shakes his head. “y’all got no faith in our boy, he’s learned from the best.”

john b mockingly frowns. “now that worries me?”

jj jokingly nudges him but kiara’s face remains stoic and passes the joint back to john b.

“i don’t want him getting hurt.”

he takes a long hit, ignoring john b’s complaints before replying to kiara. “he’ll be fine. she’s as harmless as a bunny.”

kiara scoffs, “that’s not what i’ve heard.”

he chuckles, but there’s no humor in his tone. "what's that supposed to mean?"

john b looks weary, sensing an incoming argument. “nothing.”

she shrugs, “i’ve just heard some things.”

jj scoffs, "she's heard some things. you hear that, john b, she's heard some things!"

"jj." john b gives him a warning look, but jj drunkenly waves him off.

“heard some things from who? huh? those kook bitches you ditched us for?"

john b nudges his shoulder, “come on, man.”

jj pushes his hand away and stands up, "no i wanna know."

kiara rises from her seat, now standing face to face with him. john b sinks back in his lawn chair, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

"she's got a reputation, jj. so forgive me for insulting your crush, but i don't want to see our friend get hurt."

jj steps closer, pushing her back with his chest, “that girl’s more pogue than you’ll ever fuckin’ be, so watch your fuckin’ mouth."

he snatches the joint out of john b's hand and points at kiara, "don't ruin this for them." he stomps back to the chateau, slamming the door shut behind him, drowning out john b's shouts for him to come back.

starts hanging out with the pogues more after befriending pope. she’s very happy cause she hasn’t had many friends since she hit puberty

as her self-esteem grows, it shows in her fashion, trading sweaters, long skirts, and blouses for jeans, tube and halter tops, shorts and skirts, and pastel pinks and whites for hot pinks, dark blues, and deep brown

takes pope to meet her grandma after the events of season 1. she's always known how limited the time people have together is but the apparent deaths of john b and sarah made her get over her fear of rejection and pursue pope with reckless abandon because time is too short

has the second thickest accent in the group. it’s slightly noticeable on a daily basis but becomes very obvious when she’s excited or upset. the pogues like to joke that listening to her and jj argue is like watching a show set in the deep south

pogue!bunny constantly finds herself getting dragged into the pogues' mess. topper and rafe finding out when she works so they can interrogate her about pope and jj's whereabouts after they sink topper's boat, limbrey showing up at her house to deliver a message to pope, and shoupe asking if she's seen jj after the courthouse riot. she's more annoyed than anything (the limbrey thing really pissed her off though cause that's her grandmère's home)

bobby and cara love her and are so thankful she loves pope. they love their son and know he's a catch, but they were still shocked when he brought her to meet them. they were so sure she was gonna be a no-nonsense academic weapon, not his complete opposite. they agree she's good for him, though. she brings him out of his shell like the pogues do but safer

works some kook parties to make some extra money when her grandmother gets sick. sometimes runs reconnaissance for the pogues while at said parties to the best of her ability and uses her taser, gifted by jj, if anyone gets too touchy

thought all kooks were shit before meeting sarah. they bond over their inaccurate reputations and their newfound friendship with the pogues. both girls don't have many real girl friends (read: any) so they latch onto each other rather fast

rocky relationship with kiara at first until they realize they have more in common than they thought. kiara apologizes for being a bitch to her and believing the rumors about her and bunny apologizes for talking shit about her with sarah

pogue!bunny has as many admirers as she does haters, kooks and pogues. some are creppy and gross, but most are harmless. she gets a lot of gifts (money, fruit baskets, stuffed animals) but usually rejects or returns them. on the rare occasion she keeps them she shares the goods with jj if he's going through a food drought

"here." she places a basket on her bed next to jj.

he sits up, already intrigued at the newest addition to a long list of what he's titled "rabbit food". she hates the name.

"what's this?"

she sits at her vanity and shrugs. she begins to remove her makeup, "some guy gave it to me."

he looks up from the basket, "uh huh. and did this guy have a name?"

"ran off before i could ask."

he chuckles, "smart boy. knowing when you've got no chance with a girl is a skill a lotta guys don't have."

she stops removing her lashes and turns to him. "do you?"

he thinks about it for a second before shrugging. "i'm different bunny, i've always got a chance."

she rolls her eyes and turns her back to him, "forgot who i was talkin' to."

"don't hate the player." he continues rifling through the basket, only taking things he likes. he frowns as he picks up the sixth item and places it in his backpack. "this guy's a dumbass, you hate all this stuff."

"huh." she tries to keep a passive expression but he sees right through it.

he throw his bag on her bed, "goddamit. you're somthin' else you know that?"

she can feel his glare without looking up. she sighs and turns around "what?"

"don't 'what' me. you know "what". how many times i gotta tell you i don't need your fuckin' charity!"

she stands up, "it's not charity you jackass it's called caring!"

he paces back and forth, "who told you? huh? was it pope?"

"luke gone, spending most of your time at the chateau. doesn't take a genius to put two and two together." she sits down on her bed and pats the space next to her. he sits down begrudingly.

"i'm sorry i tricked you but i don't reget it."

"you're shit at apologies."

"i'm an only child. what'd you expect?"

he shakes his head and looks around her room, "you're an idiot."

she quirks an eybrow at him. "takes one to know one."

he smiles.

has two phones, one for friends and family and one for the creeps she meets encounters at work. she knows they're relentless so she gives them the number to her second phone so when they test it by calling her right there, which they tend to do, it rings.

loves watching pope use his brain. there's just something so attractive about watching him research, evaluate, problem solve and the way his face lights up when he cracks the case. bonus points if she helps him solve a problem.

she's lying on her stomach on her boyfriend's bed, trying to complete her grandmère's newest word search. pope's over at his desk working on the pogues' most recent adventure.

pope groans, throwing his head back in annoyance. "this makes no damn sense."

she looks up from her word search, "what is it?"

he sits on the edge of his bed next to her and hands her the paper he's been analyzing for the past hour. she studies it. "the princess andromeda?"

"right? i mean it's supoosed to be somewhere on the island but it doesn't exist. maybe i got it wrong or-"

"no it's real."

he squints, "what do you mean?"

"it's a real place. the girls told me about it, the club inside the club. tried to get me to cover a shift for stephanie but i said 'no way'. i can't even imagine what kind of shit goes on down th-"

she's cut off by a deep kiss. he pulls away to soon for her liking but the pure adoration in his eyes makes up for it. "you're amazing."

she feels her face heat up, "i don't know 'bout that but if it gets me more kisses, sure." she smiles, closes her eyes, and leans in for another but gets nothing. she opens one eye and frowns at the sight before her. he's already got his backpack on and is halfway out the door. "i gotta go! love you!"

she pouts. "love you too."

does target practice with jj on her days off and finds it very theraputic. the rush and the benefits convinces her to finally learn how to use her grandmère's shotgun

can't stop thinking about how much better her life has gotten since meeting the pogues

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot

summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.

word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter. 

Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.

Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.

Tonight was a little different. 

No grave can hold my body down,

I'll crawl home to her

You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.

Joel. But he wasn’t alone.

“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.

“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”

“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.

“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”

“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.

“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.

“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.

“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”

“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows. 

You care. 

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”

The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.

“You need to shower.” 

Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.

The smell of death.

You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”

His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.

“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”

Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.

“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.

You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.

He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.

And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.

Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.

Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you. 

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol. 

There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around. 

Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles. 

You’ll take it. 

He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart. 

If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.

He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart. 

Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same. 

He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.

“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”

We don’t talk about these things.

We don’t talk.

We don’t.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”

Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.

But, that doesn’t explain the blood. 

As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.

She never asked me once

about the wrong I did

Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away. 

Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.

“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”

Joel forces Ellie to drop it.

But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.

There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.

Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.

“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”

It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.

“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”

You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.

“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.

He killed them. There was no way around that.

“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.

“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”

“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”

“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”

“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”

“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”

“Well, yeah—”

Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.

“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.

Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.

“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.

“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”

He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse. 

“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.

“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”

Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible. 

The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.

You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“

“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”

That idea never crossed your mind.

“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation. 

“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”

Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it. 

“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”

Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”

The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat. 

He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part. 

“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”

“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”

Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”

“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”

“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”

He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.

He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave. 

It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.

And you could give him that.

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”

His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air. 

He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.  

Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.

Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”

You. 

He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea. 

Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.

He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”

That was an understatement.

He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do. 

Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.

Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul. 

He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”

As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know. 

“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”

Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.

You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”

Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”

And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.

“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”

In other words, you could read Joel like a book.

And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.

The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.

For you, it was everything.

"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."

It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.

But, you'd settle for this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."

[cod-dump]

Teen!Ghost AU: Random Facts

Ghost already has his first tattoo. It’s a small skull on his chest that Nik helped him get. They’re both terrified of Price finding out about it. Ghost likes to draw designs on himself with markers, mostly for fun but also to help hide the tattoo in case Price sees it. Ghost wants to work with Nik on site but Nik has continuously redirected him towards other lines of work.

Alex is Laswell’s son. He has gauges in his years and is working on growing a mustache. Laswell hates the scrawny mustache so much already. Alex is honestly terrified of Price and is convinced the man will try to kill him for dating his son, so he does everything he can to make the man like him.

Gaz and Alex have been dating in secret for a year. Ghost knows about it and has helped keep it a secret from Price because he tends to be very protective. Gaz has a lot of stories written in journals in his room. He wants to be a writer so he’s constantly reading books for inspiration and to look at different writing styles and check different genres.

Nik is a construction contractor who does shady stuff on the side. He keeps his side business and the rest of his life separated, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to the people he cares about because of the work he does. Nik is practically Ghost and Gaz’s second father and considers them his sons even though they’re not.

Horangi is best friends with Soap and hangs out with Gaz only if Soap is there. Despite being very loud and confident, he’s actually very nervous about new people (especially people he finds cute). So, Horangi has a hard time being open around Gaz even though he really wants to get to know him.

Soap lives across the street from Ghost and Gaz. He befriended Gaz, being unaware that him and Ghost were brothers. When he found out, he had already developed a crush on Ghost and was talking about him to both Horangi and Gaz. Thankfully Gaz doesn’t mind and teases him over having a crush on his brother.

Price is very secretive about his work. To most, he’s a musician who settled down to have a family, but Laswell and Nik know exactly what he gets up to when no one is looking. Price is very protective of his boys. He knows people would try to hurt them to get to him so he doubles down on keeping an eye on them.

Laswell works along side Price. She disapproves of his relationship with Nik (which Price denies is a thing). She helps look out for Price’s boys and often will watch them when Price is away. She knows about Gaz and Alex’s relationship and finds it cute how they try to hide it.

Graves runs a boys home for runaways. He’s very protective of the boys under his care, that protectiveness extends to others around him. While he has very shady ways of protecting his boys, the people under his employment can be trusted. Graves works with Price and Laswell but he also has been on jobs with Nik. Graves is considered the richest man in town.

[eldritch-spouse]

Dorem with a blind human who has endless positivity radiating off her. She knows the world is cruel and evil, but instead of getting drown in it, she stubbornly want to create as much good as possible (helping people, caring for abandoned animal,...etc). Without her vision, she didn't see Dorem as some monster at first, despite feeling very strange in his presence. She just thought he was a very quiet, awkward person.

Their first meeting would be at a graveyard. She was cleaning the graves of people who didn't have any family or friends left and was abandoned until it grew dirty and unnoticeable. She worked slowly, carefully, and completely unaware of the gaze directed at her from the shadows. Dorem has been watching her do this every Saturday for the past few months. He didn't understand it at first, thinking she had mistaken the graves of her familiar for someone else's due to her blindness. But overtime, he realizes her soul was just too bright, too kind and loving. He slowly warmed up to her and revealed himself to her one random afternoon. She was startled but eagerly began chatting with the mysterious graveyard visitor.

It was mostly her talking and him listening. Overtime, she learned of his true nature and bits n pieces of his past that he slowly revealed. She accepted it and became even more determined to make his future days better than his past.

[When you said cleaning graves, all I thought of was that blonde Tiktoker. 💀]

The thought of Dorem just about ready to pick you up and launch you through the air because he sees you squatting around a gravestone, messing with it, and immediately assumes you're some kind of grave defiler... Only to then just loom quietly and watch you clean it. Every. Single. Saturday. Like a confused donkey that slowly grows to appreciate it. Comedy gold.

It's good that you can't see him, but sight alone will not spare you of the instinctive dread he inflicts on the living. You'll know Dorem is something more than human or monster early on, because of the weight his voice carries, his strange smoke-like scent, the way he feels. Because, the moment he's sure he can touch mortals without harming them accidentally, he's going to let you touch certain parts of himself. Of his lanky, bony figure and even the flesh that forced itself upon his head.

He's hideous, but you don't need sight to know that.

Dorem encourages you to spend your time elsewhere. Humans already have short lifespans, don't go ahead and waste yours hovering around the dead and gone. Those are empty words and the two of you know it well, he would be disheartened to find you moved on. More than that, Dorem would follow you and easily terrorize the ones you call close, without even trying.

He sees a bit of himself in you. Working tirelessly yet unrecognized. It's almost futile to clean gravestones, just as it's almost futile for him to keep working for those who've long abandoned him. But the two of you don't know anything else, do you?

The soulkeeper knows things will never be the same, but the moments of peace and quiet he can steal when he sits beside you, letting you map out his hand for the hundredth time while you ramble and he chips in every now and then... Those moments make it feel as if things aren't all bad. He doesn't remember the last time he cradled a living being with as much gentleness as he holds you, prying you away from your exhaustive focus so he -A being many consider a harbinger of death- Can remind you to tend to basic needs.

There's a mild self-loathing in Dorem when your natural warmth stokes urges in him that have been buried for so long he didn't even know they still existed. He wouldn't curse someone as generous as you to laying with him, but then, he's already selfish for stealing all your time, and you don't seem to have very many friends... Would you turn him away if he were to reach for more than just your face?

If he were to whisper what he sees in your soul and how it makes him want to be as close to it as he can?

Dorem wonders how it'll spin and flare in the wake of pleasure.

[emeritus-fuckers]

Ghost reaction to finding fanfic you write of them (smut, fluff or angst idrc) also feel free to ignore lovely

Papas reacting to fanfiction

WARNING: Copia's section includes Rite Here Rite Now spoilers.

Primo (he/him)

Reacting to „Souls on Fire” ♡ Yandere!Papa Emeritus I x Reader oneshot

Primo sat down to read after a long day in the garden, glasses perched on the end of his nose. You knotted your fingers together, you'd really taken some liberties imagining his younger self. Why were you even letting him read this?!

Despite your nerves, Primo seemed more and more delighted as he read. A small chuckle escaping him now and then.

"Ah yes, my younger brothers..." he mused to himself. "Such an adorably sinful handful."

He carried reading enthralled by every word. When he finished he turned to you with a truly devilish smile.

"Amore, it has been so long since someone has seen me for anything other than a wise old man who tends his garden."

"I think I know you better than most do." You winked with an awkward little giggle.

"Yes, you do." He says with a smile, then his expression turns serious "How did you find all this out?"

You eyes widen.

"The accuracy..." he shakes his head in dismay as you blanch.

"She was wonderful, I remember her well, she had a bit of a habit of running away... I can take you to meet her?" Primo looked so serious but his eyes gleamed with mischief. "In the cemetery, I sometimes still sit and watch her grave." You aren't sure whether to believe him or not and narrow your eyes.

"You won't leave me, will you amore? Because I can make you stay."

You hurled the nearest cushion at him. "I dare you try it, old man."

He scoffed and placed your laptop carefully down before holding his arms out for you. You couldn't say no to that adorable and loving smile.

"See, I have you completely under my spell." He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Prick." You mutter.

"That is not very polite, amore. If it makes you feel better, I love your writing. Luckily for you I am not a... 'yandere', but I do have an interesting past. I might tell you more of it if you promise to keep it to yourself and only yourself." Primo says with a kiss to your cheek.

Secondo (he/him)

Reacting to Day 23 of Kinktober: Blood - Papa Emeritus II

Secondo is not the one to snoop. He trusts you with his life. With his being. The Siblings of the Ministry, however? They are. They absolutely are. They also are completely unable to stay silent. So, when they blabber about you? He listens. He honestly just wanted to make sure that they weren't saying anything that he needed to... handle. He would never let anyone talk behind your back.

But they were blabbering about a story you written.. about Him. And that's what truly got his attention. Why hadn't you shown him before this point, anyways?

It didn't take him long to find the fic on his phone, he did have your writing blog on every platform, after all. Poker face on as usual as his eyes scanned over the words, carefully taking in each and every word. Memorizing them. Greeting you as usual as you walked into your twos shared chambers. Nodding and giving you a kiss, asking how your day was going and pointing you to the dinner he had made, as always. Going right back to reading, when he was done. Which wasn't odd, he was often stuck in a book, online or a physical one.

He doesn't say a thing for a few weeks. Bordering on a month. Just... waiting.

Not until your period, that is. He wakes you up with soft words and soft kisses, making you giggle happily, joining you with a shower and a wonderful breakfast, then gently leading you back to bed. Before harshly grabbing your wrists, asking for a safe word, and then doing Every. Single. Thing. You had written, keeping each moment to how you written it, and even going back to match it.

Perhaps a bit more mean, honestly.

Terzo (he/they)

Reacting to “Love Story” Terzo x f!reader one shot (READ CW)

Terzo wasn’t one to necessarily snoop at what you were writing. He knew it was your favourite hobby to partake in when you had free time. However, their curiosity got the better of them seeing a song connected to the story you were writing.

He put on the song as he read what you wrote, a little surprised to find it was a story about him. Humming as he began to reading. The first part was unbearably sweet, a smile appearing on his face as he read through. You did have a talent with words.

You walked in to him holding his neck as he read the second part, giving you a look of horror as you stood by. Awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck.

“Cara Mia…should I be concerned about where you got this idea to have Copia pose with my severed head from?”

You didn’t reply, just giving a sheepish smile as you came to lay beside them in bed. Looking at them with an awkward grin. Immediately setting off alarm bells in his mind.

“…you haven’t read the third part yet have you?”

Mismatched eyes returned to the screen as he seemed to fearfully begin reading the next part. His brows furrowing as they tensed up. Holding you close as if you trap you at his side, eyes widening after a few moments. Slowly looking at your sheepish smile.

“First thing amore, we are getting you…a very good therapist. Second…if I ever start acting that way I implore you to actually kill me. I am obsessed with you…but not to that degree.”

He huffed, putting aside the cursed story and stopping the music. Holding you close and breathing in the scent of your shampoo. Relaxing in your presence…

And hoping this inspiration hadn’t come from the bag he had hidden out in the garden…

Copia/Frater Imperator (he/him)

Reacting to Biggering ⸸ Cardinal Copia

Contains spoilers for Rite Here Rite Now.

"Wha- Amore, why would I- she's my mother! I would never-"

Copia stumbled over his words, looking between you and the screen of your laptop. He was just going to look something up real quick (although with his knowledge about modern technology, it wasn't really going to be too quick, but let's not get into those details), unaware that you left your Tumblr up with some sort of... story, as he assumed. He knew you wrote silly stories occasionally, but he never got to actually read any of your works. He got curious, especially seeing his name in the title of the story.

He played the song attached to the thing, since he deduced from the title that it was probably rather important. He knew he shouldn't snoop around, but curiosity got the best of him, as he got his glasses from his pocket and started to read what you wrote. He couldn't believe his eyes, especially at the end. While yes, he did enjoy the fame, he wasn't a villain! And he would never kill his mother, he mourned her death! He was heartbroken when he lost her!

And now, he was struggling to express just how confused he was by what you wrote. Even despite you assuring him you were just having fun with a concept of him, your anxious little ray of sunshine, being evil. A concept he did not really enjoy.

Needless to say, it took a big plate of rigattoni and about an hour of apology cuddles for him to stop pouting about that one little fanfic.

Old Nihil (he/him)

Reacting to “Tattoo” ♡ Old Papa Nihil x female!Reader (smut)

He begged and pleaded for you to let him read it. Hours and hours after he heard you'd written something about him. But you kept going bright red every single time. This story haunted you, it would never go away now that you had finally put pen to paper. You finally gave in when he looked at you with those simpering big eyes. Why not let him read it, it was out there on the Internet and it might actually make Nihil rather happy, even if it did give him a rather in depth view of your imagination.

You passed him a printed copy. He started to read, devouring each word.

At first he kept looking across at you, lounging on the sofa as you watched his every reaction. His gaze often went to your legs, which were covered by your jeans.

You raise an eyebrow, wordlessly daring him to ask, but then he swiftly reached for his oxygen mask and took a large hit.

He must have reached the smutty part.

A playful smile lit up your face as he read on, needing more and more oxygen with every paragraph.

"Ooooh, this is very good." He is transfixed and you are almost as mesmerized by the obvious rising of his own seven inches. "You write very well." He added as he reached the fanfic's ending with the biggest grin on his face.

"Thank you Papa. I can put a skirt on later if you'd like?"

He reached for his oxygen again while nodding enthusiastically.

You walk over to him, settling on his lap which only excites the man more.

"So, did you get the tattoo, my dear?" He asked, gently trailing his fingers up your thigh.

You lean in to whisper in his ear.

"You can find out tonight."

Young Nihil (he/him)

Reacting to Papa Nihil falling head over heels for reader

"What are you doing?" Nihil watched the ice melt in his cocktail and huffed. He should have been doing his work but fuck that, he'd rather be having fun with you...

Except you were in his office, on his sofa, with your clothes (well, the shirt was his) on and worst of all, working. What in the Dark Lord's name had gone wrong?

"Baaaabe..." he stood behind you to see what you were up to and you froze.

"Oh, you're writing!" he said happily, he was always so impressed by your work. He leaned in closer to get a better look. "About me?!"

It started off about right, his broken heart, his fear of rejection... wait, how did you know?

"You think I'm in love with you???" You went red but kept typing. "Babe..." He whined again but then trailed off and kept reading.

"Maybe I am... I like this part." He says with a large grin hiding his hammering heart. He was in love with you, he really did smile every time he saw you. How had you worked that out?!

He let out a sigh of relief, it all made sense now. He should have just told you himself.

"Why d'you stop before the good part?" His hands rested on your shoulder as he started to rub them. "The world should hear about my skills in bed. How I can make ya scream my name." He winked before he started kissing your neck.

Yet you were tense, still embarrassed as you stared at your writing. Your shoulders sagged.

He goes round so you can see him as he knelt down in front of you. "You don't have to write your hopes and dreams, just tell me about them. I mean, by all means, write, I love you imagination but this..." He pauses thinking of the right words. "I do love you and I won't mess it up this time." He takes both your hands and kisses them.

"I love you too..." You said with the most perfect soft little smile and his heart melted all over again.

"You keep writing if you want." He leaned in, his lips achingly close to yours. "Maybe the world should hear about your skill in bed. You are truly a dark temptress. Write about it. Or you can tell me now and I'll make your fantasies come true."

~

Papas I and Nihil written by Nyx.

Papa II written by Zenith/Jasper.

Papa III written by Death.

Papa IV written by Nosferatu.

[autolenaphilia]

Ashley Graves is asexual to me, or at least not conventionally allo/het. All the fan fics/comics where she is depicted as explicitly and hopelessly horny for Andrew feel out of character to me. Like that isn’t how Ashley talks about sex in the actual game. She doesn’t express sexual attraction, not even towards Andrew, despite her being otherwise deeply in love, dependent on and obsessed with him and not afraid to show it.

Ashley jokes about sex for sure, but finding sex funny and having sexual attraction are two different things. And like Ashley’s attitude to sex tends to be transactional, as when she thinks of having sex it’s not for its own sake, but as a way to get something. Having sex with the neighbor and getting pregnant to escape quarantine, or doing sex work.

Ashley’s joking attitude to sex and lack of expressed sexual attraction mirrors Andrew in a way. He is obviously extremely horny for her but has severely repressed it, and he is rather humorless about Ashley’s sex jokes, because the subject of sex is a sore spot because of that repression. Andrew only laughs at her blowjob joke in the incest vision because he is finally letting go of that repression and can see the humor.

Now, Ashley being asexual and not into Andrew in that way doesn’t mean coffincest isn’t real. She has good reasons to fuck Andrew that isn’t sexual attraction. Andrew might break if she doesn’t. The decay route shows Andrew might go insane and kill Ashley and then himself as the only way to resolve the contradiction between who he is, an incestous murderer-cannibal and his desire to be normal. And even on the “sane” non-incestous burial route, the sibling’s relationship is noticeably colder than on the “questionable” incest route. That’s because Andrew is holding back his affection for Ashley because of his repression of his incestuous desires.

And above all Ashley wants Andrew to drop the act of being aloof from her and finally admit his love for her. Part of coffincest for my brain is that it is Ashley being transactional about sex again, but what she gets out of it here is very much everything she wants. An Andrew who can freely and fully admit to his feelings for her, who doesn’t repress or uses other women for sex as substitutes for the woman he actually desires. And well, there are many asexuals who don’t experience sexual attraction but enjoy the act of sex, maybe Ashley is one of them.

(Of course I am open to another explanation for why Ashley is the way she is about sex: she is a repressed lesbian who can’t fully express her feelings until her sister’s egg cracks, but that’s probably a whole other post)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Ground keeper! Reader after awhile figures out who they think is the owners of the house a technically their boss. It the pair of brothers who, despite being dressed in such old fancy clothes, are as rough and tough as mountain men. Victor and Logan, they think their name is, even if Victor always calls his brother "Jimmy". One of them has a daughter who's just as wild, but they all seem nice enough.

They must be part of a historical reenactment club or fashion preservation society or something. People are constantly visiting, wearing old styles. There's a cute redhead in a poodle skirt and her boyfriend who never takes off his sunglasses, even at night. A boy with a German accent and performance clothes right out of "the Greatest Showman." He claims another girl is his sister, but she has a southern accent and a full cowgirl get-up, complete with pistol. A man with a cajun accent who is always in a 1930s trench coat is always flirting with her, so Reader tells him off their shears until she tells them he's OK. There's a man in a wheelchair wearing a WW2 soldier's uniform who is always stared at longingly by another man in some sort of 1970s suit. The 70s guy is normally accompanied by a set of twins who Reader assumes in his son and daughter. The son wears shiny disco clothes, complete with a white suit, and the daughter has a really cool hippie vibe going on. Both seem tired with their dad's pining over the soldier guy. A woman with white hair and the most gorgeous ballgown you have ever seen in normally accompanied by a strong looking man with glasses and tweed jacket Reader's pretty sure they saw their dad wearing in photos during the 90s.

There are more but Reader always tries to be polite to their bosses and guests, even if they always try to scare them. They can't help that Reader has always been a bit (a lot) skittish and nighttime in a graveyard doesn't help. They just make small talk until the guest decides its time to go back inside, where Reader's never gone.

Until a terrible storm hits one night while Reader is working, and it's not safe for them to drive back home. They try to hide out in the little gardener's shed, but Logan grabs them their collar and drags them through the front door, telling them they could stay the night. There's room for at least a thousand more in this mansion anyway.

Reader didn't mind the old people, really! That much dedication to preserving different eras of history was amazing! Splendid, even! They all just... happen to spook Reader, almost every time they show up. They're all so quiet! How come Reader can't hear them approach?!

When they go inside, though... Reader stays outside. Look. That mansion is old, probably has rotting wood, might have some raccoons or opossums or ghosts, and Reader really really really doesn't want to be scared like that. So out they stay, tending the graves, the bushes, the flowers, and doing battle with dirt and mud and whatever else ends up dirtying the grounds.

Except this storm is awful. Horribly so. Pouring rain, hailstones, freezing winds, and lightning all fill the air, and Reader is forced to take shelter in the decaying garden shed. It's small, it smells like moss and old earth, and it's cramped. But it's out of the rain, so there's that. And it's not inside that creepy mansion...

Then there's a rattling of the door, then Mr. Logan is staring downn at them, snarling about getting inside or they'll freeze to death, and soon Reader is being dragged out of the small shed and towards the giant mansion across the grounds. Mr. Logan has a vice-like grip, his hand is ice cold, but he doesn't stop for a second, even as Reader struggles to not trip or fall over the various rocks and branches and hailstones that litter the dirt...

It's all too soon when he slams open the door, shoving Reader inside, then slamming the doors behind him. They're ushered to sit in a room down the hall, filled with a warm fireplace, and are soon being stared at by the numerous people who gather there.

"So!" says one of them. "Who wants to play a game?"

[heylittleriotact]

🌹🌱🌼🥀💐🌺 pretty please!

Yesss LFG! Thank you for these! They made me think!

🌹: What's the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved?

The "At Your Age?" Argument wasn't their first fight - just the one that sucked the most because it was left unresolved for weeks.

Their first fight was actually brought about when Amina interjected during one of Emmrich's yapping sessions about lichdom and what a great honour it would be to join their ranks, and how amazing and special it would be to live forever, blah blah blah.

She basically asked if he could try talking about literally anything else for a change, because all of this talk of lichdom was getting tired, and maybe he's idealized this a bit much, and honestly she doesn't really care for it, so she'd rather not have to hear about it continuously in the first place.

Emmrich immediately went on the defense, and decided to explain (in the form of an academic lecture) why lichdom was perfectly ethical, and why Amina had no cause to distrust it, therefore she needn't be afraid.

Then she might have made a remark along the lines of, "I asked if we could change the subject - not for a condescending lecture on a subject I'm actually already very familiar with: I'm not one of your fucking students, Professor."

... and things escalated from there.

They avoided each other for the remainder of the day, but after dinner Emmrich answered a knock at his door to find a bouquet of freshly cut lilacs (out of season most places - where had she gotten them?) and a note inviting him to come find her in the Memorial Gardens if he wanted to talk it out.

And talk it out they did.

I actually plan on writing this whole encounter one day 😅

🌱Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end?

She's had a handful of relationships, usually with people also in the Watch. It's a path that tends to eat into one's ability to have a normal life with predictable time away from work, holidays etc. You work weird hours and do a lot of emotional labour, so finding a partner who isn't a Watcher who really understands all of that is challenging.

Her first partner was a childhood friend named Kalista, who joined the Watch with her but dropped out a few years into training. She was outgoing, friendly, and beautiful - tall with stormy blue-gray eyes and wavy brown hair.

She fell in a bit too hard with the party crowd and struggled more and more to keep up with her studies before eventually she just stopped showing up. Amina broke up with her because as much as it hurt, she felt that she needed to focus on her own future at the time. She and Kalista remained friends for many years, despite the end of their relationship, but things got worse for her friend when she started seeing someone new who seemed committed to making everything worse for Kalista instead of better. Amina hasn't heard from her in years. The last she spoke with Kalista, she had offered to help her pin down some resources to help her with her lyrium addiction and work through some other things. She suspects Kalista's current partner caught wind of that and forbid her from speaking with Amina again. Every morning she checks the sheet of overnight death calls posted in the Necropolis to make sure Kalista's name isn't on it.

🌼If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say?

Spicy leaves! Grave dirt. And splinters!

(Peppermint, literally grave dirt, and wood shavings from building coffins.)

🥀What figure from Rook's personal past would be added to the regret prison?

Kalista, for obvious reasons: Amina knows that she can't control other people's choices and actions, but she worries about her constantly and can't help but feel that she could have done more for her friend, or she still could if she wasn't too cowardly to involve herself.

Reda: the woman who took Amina in as a child and raised her. Reda fell ill just before Amina was soft-exiled from the Watch, and she died about six months before Veilguard. Amina left Varric abruptly, and was only just barely able to make it to her bedside in time to be with her when she passed. Amina regrets that because of her actions during the War of The Banners, she was unable to spend Reda's final days with her, taking care of her as she was cared for by the Necropolis matron when she was young. As the closest thing to a mother she ever had, she feels that she failed her.

💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like?

Amina has always gotten on well with Myrna and Vorgoth - she excelled in her studies when she was training, throwing herself into them with enthusiasm and an attitude that indicated that the scrappy foundling had something to prove, and over the years established herself as a reliable and skilled member of the Mourn Watch. It takes a very specific kind of person to be a Watcher, and an even more specific kind of person to be a Reaper, and her superiors would readily admit that Amina made for this lifestyle - it truly is her calling.

Because of this, the conversation in which they parted ways was painful for everyone: Amina felt betrayed and forced to let go of the only place that had ever felt like what she imagined home would feel like. It pained Myrna and Vorgoth to be the ones to deliver the news, but what they did not mention to Amina was that the two of them had personally argued for exile in favour of the alternative: Watchers who break their oaths and harm the undead (even if they fucking deserved it) forfeit their lives: Unbeknownst to her, she's got Myrna and Vorgoth to thank for the fact that her bones aren't waiting on one of the undead nobles whose toes she stepped on.

🌺Is there an object from Rook's childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food?)

Reda rarely went anywhere without a fashionable silk or chiffon scarf around her neck. Amina used to spend hours as a child, draping herself in the scarves and donning Reda's jewelry, strutting around the house to the delight of the woman, billowing and fluttering like a colourful sail. There's an entire crate of the scarves waiting for her at her apartment after Reda's passing. They're much too bright and extravagant for her tastes, but before she returned to Varric, she managed to find a relatively tame one dyed in reds and blacks and golds with stylized dragons picked out on it - she keeps it with her always. Even wears it from time to time. She figures if she ever gets blood on it, the colours should hide it well enough.

It smelled like Reda for the longest time, until one day it didn't anymore. That was a sad day.

[techramonic]

WHAT is the lore of smartschoolboy9 i'm curious now

I will make an in-depth deepdive of this soon but to sum it up into an informal consumable hunk of lore, basically:

smartschoolboy9 is one of the many instagram accounts used by a man named David Alter, a middle-aged man in the 50's age range residing in London. He has other accounts such as stephanieschoolie, truthsticks, and many others.

From how I see it, he treats these accounts like his alter-egos, writing as if he is the child or parent themself by talking about mundane things like their school-life, interests, and others. He builds up on these characters and even creates extensive descriptions and narratives for them. This effort extends to him branching out some sort of community ir a world of his own, where he lets these characters interact by commenting on posts of his accounts.

All of these accounts had three common themes: children, uniforms, and high-heeled mini boots.

In his truthsticks account, his content mostly consisted of him calling out supposed child predators that were pretending to be children. This was eerily aligned with his behavior because he did the exact same thing despite numerously calling out other accounts that were allegedly also made by himself.

People speculate that this is either to gain trust from innocent parents/children coming across his feeds or that he's projecting because he is quite literally very self-aware of his harmful and dangerous thoughts, desires, and behavior that he guiltily is self-indulgent of.

His smartschoolboy9 account sticks out the most because it's actually him dressing up as a schoolboy. Unlike the other accounts where he uses ai to grotesquely mimic children, he dresses up as one. This can confirm that he does have some sort of fetishes directly linked to children or being a child. While some people speculate that this may be an ageplay fetish, he has other posts that may allude to something more sinister.

This is one of the more tame photos I I found on reddit, you can check more for yourself if you wish to see more of his content—however, this is all I'll show because I might get termed. Despite the content being blurred, it's still uncomfortable to look at because of the graphic nature.

He started using ai to create these images of children often propped up in suggestive and poses, some having child-like faces cropped unto adult bodies. He tends to sexualize these children who are his "alter-egos", often in weird forms of poetry that he posts online (i.e. one of his alter-egos was a little girl who liked writing poetry and she wrote a poem containing innuendos and a description of her uniform and vaguely her... underwear)

He also has this very odd connection to uniforms. He would post on numerous occations regarding how uniforms are valuable for prestige and all kinds of reasons on why kids should wear it instead of casualwear. His interests in this are so extensive that he has even published some papers on local news regarding how much he believes that uniforms should be implemented in British educational institutions.

It's hearsay but some people on reddit have mentioned that he had been doing this since the 90's and had been under the radar since. There are some who said he has been jailed once for stalking a girl when he was younger but there's no solid evidence of him having a prison record.

No one knows whether he had already committed a grave act to satiate his unusual fantasies or thoughts. The police have been actively trying to find him and gather clues, however the case still remains open until today. No one really knows where he is at the moment but he is seen as a potential threat or being a child predator.

He also would go to parks and take pictures of unsuspecting children. There was also a video where he was chasing a child (the child seemed like he was laughing, I'm unsure however because most of the video was covered by emojis and thick texts but there was some cheap audio and small crevices where hou could see what was going on) and no one knows the context.

He had also shared morbid interests on child sacrifice and cannibalism on one of his accounts. While this may just be something to add layer to his character or alter-ego, it's not really a strech since he's already prone to self-projection–it might as well be true.

He's a very weird yet interesting rabbit hole to dig up. He was obscure before rising to recognition recently and more unfortunately, it's on tiktok. It would've been better if it was somewhere like on reddit but tiktok is the worst place to make these criminals famous using braindead content.

Personally, I don't like the sensationalization they actively perform on his case because they don't realize how this behavior just makes it more difficult to investigate because they're providing him more attention which can either be good (if used correctly in navigating his location and whereabouts, his history, etc.) or bad (they praise him even if satirical, which enables his behavior—or criticizes him which sends him into a worse mental spiral)

I really think they need to mentally evaluate him once they find him because he clearly has issues and illnesses that he copes with in a very harmful manner to not just him but also others.

He's a very weird yet interesting rabbit hole to dig up. He was obscure before rising to recognition recently and more unfortunately, it's on tiktok. It would've been better if it was somewhere like on reddit but tiktok is the worst place to make these criminals famous, especially with these no-brainer consumerist content.

Nexpo and Nick Crowley made great videos talking about his case if you wanna know more!

[aestheeredie]

The Broken Promise

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈

➳ 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐕𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ೄྀ

➳ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ೄྀ

➳ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 ೄྀ

➳ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝟓𝟒 ೄྀ

➳ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

➳ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! ೄྀ

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈

The days became a ritual, each one marked by your journey to the cemetery where Alexei was laid to rest. The book of poems, was a constant companion, tucked under your arm as you made your way through the quiet streets to the hallowed grounds where he rests.

The cemetery was a peaceful place, a stark contrast to the chaos of the world beyond its iron gates. The gravestones stood in orderly rows, each one a testament to a life sacrificed in the war. Alexei's grave was nestled beneath a grand old oak tree, its branches offering a gentle shade.

Every day, you would kneel beside his grave, clearing away any leaves or dirt that had gathered since your last visit. You would place a fresh bouquet of his favorite flowers—lilies—carefully arranged in a small vase at the foot of the headstone. Then, you would sit, the book of poems open in your lap, and begin to read aloud.

"Love is a flame that burns in the heart,

Even when parted, never to depart.

Though shadows may fall and hopes may wane,

Love's light endures, beyond the pain."

The words flowed through the air, a bridge between you and the man you loved. Though he was gone, you felt his presence as strongly as if he were sitting beside you, listening to your voice.

After reading the poem, you would talk to him, sharing the details of your day, the small triumphs and the moments of sorrow. "I saw Anna today," you would say, your voice soft. "She asked about you. She misses you, just as I do."

You spoke to him of the changing seasons, of the world that continued to turn despite the gaping hole his absence had left in your heart. And every time you spoke, you could almost hear his replies, comforting and warm.

You did not only tend to Alexei's grave. As you moved through the cemetery, you paid your respects to the other soldiers, cleaning their headstones and leaving small tokens of remembrance. Each grave was a reminder of the sacrifices made, and you honored them all, feeling a connection to those who had fought and fallen alongside Alexei.

Months turned into years, and though the pain of his loss never fully left you, it softened into a bittersweet ache. You found a kind of peace in your routine, a way to keep Alexei's memory alive. The cemetery became a sanctuary, a place where love transcended the boundaries of life and death.

One day, as you sat by his grave, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the oak tree. You looked up at the sky, the colors of the setting sun painting a beautiful canvas. "I miss you every day," you whispered, tears filling your eyes. "But I know you're with me, in every moment, in every breath."

You laid a hand on the headstone, feeling the cool stone beneath your fingers. "Thank you, Alexei," you said softly. "For everything. For your love, your courage, and for the memories we shared. I will carry you in my heart, always."

As you stood to leave, the wind picked up, swirling the leaves around you in a gentle dance. It felt as though Alexei was there, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. With a final, lingering glance at his grave, you turned and walked away, the book of poems still clutched tightly in your hand.

Though the world had changed irrevocably, and the pain of his loss remained, you found solace in the enduring bond you shared. Alexei's love was a flame that continued to burn brightly in your heart, guiding you through the darkest of times, and reminding you that even in the face of loss, love endures.

And so, your days continued, each one a testament to the promise you had made—to live, to remember, and to love, until the end of your days.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈