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tuesday again 10/29/2024
new boot goofin. also a great book for the cowboyblogger crew and TWO cat photos
listening
afterimage by JUSTICE and Rimon was on a spotify autogenerated dance playlist and it is So soothing to my brain. sometimes described as heavy metal disco, it itches the same brain scratch as daft punk's interstella 5555. comforting and familiar road trip music where the road trips are in spaceships with a sort of clunky engine thrumming away in the background. you know that extremely early ass o clock in the morning road trip feel where it's very pale and a little misty out and you're only sort of awake? i feel like this is a very different kind of road trip music animal than than late-night road trip music. it's pulling you out the door. it's for beginnings, not for very tired almost-ends.
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reading
thank you mackie. very reading heavy week. im tryign to redirect myself into library books instead of election doomscrolling and im trying to read more physical books bc i have a tremendous pile of shit i genuinely do want to read and almost none of it is on my phone. first we'll talk about Navigational Entanglements by Aliette de Bodard, from randomly perusing the library stacks. really really really fucking loved this one.
Award-winning author of The Red Scholar’s Wake Aliette de Bodard comes for your heart with a compelling tale of love, duty, and found-family in an exciting new space opera that brings xianxia-style martial arts to the stars. Jockeying navigator clans guide spaceships through the Hollows: an area of space populated by the mysterious but deadly creatures known as Tanglers. When a Tangler escapes the Hollows for the first time in living memory, each clan must send a representative to help capture it—but the mission may be doomed and the hearts of two clan juniors may be in danger too.
first off: this isn't fucking found family. this is a group of coworkers. tor dot com loves to slap found family on anything gay.
politics is about control and inter-group dynamic politics are also about control. and grappling for control in your life when you grow up in a Young Leadership program. i really liked this, one of the least annoying examples of someone getting overstimulated and needing to lie down in a dark quiet room and how hanging out with some people does not impair rest and hanging out with some people is extremely extremely draining. the love interest is what if lee van cleef was a young vietnamese woman in the far future who can navigate faster than light travel.
very snappy little 160-pg novella that does not overstay its welcome. packs a genuinely surprising amount of worldbuilding and character work into its pages: i have a lot of trouble with ensemble casts post-Covid and keeping everyone straight (especially in hard copy form where I can’t easily search a book) but everyone is a fully formed person here and i had no trouble keeping everyone straight in my head. i will be asking my siblings to acquire a physical copy for me for christmas. i love a fucked up political mystery with spacewalks and space monsters.
the lead, nhi, reminded me a lot of friends at the table's brnine, a self-sacrificing perfectionist fish. hope that's useful information to all three of you i have bullied into listening to fatt
The Shabti by Megaera C. Lorenz. this finally came off my holds, hat tip to i think someone else's tuesdaypost? cannot immediately locate it. holler if it was you.
Can you flimflam a ghost? It’s 1934. Former medium Dashiel Quicke travels the country debunking spiritualism and false mediums while struggling to stay ahead of his ex-business partner and lover who wants him back at any cost. During a demonstration at a college campus, Dashiel meets Hermann Goschalk, an Egyptologist who’s convinced that he has a genuine haunted artifact on his hands. Certain there is a rational explanation for whatever is going on with Hermann’s relics, Dashiel would rather skip town, but soon finds himself falling for Hermann. He agrees to take a look after all and learns that something is haunting Hermann’s office indeed. Faced with a real ghost Dashiel is terrified, but when the haunting takes a dangerous turn, he must use the tools of the shady trade he left behind to communicate with this otherworldly spirit before his past closes in.
this keeps getting reviewed as cozy horror, which i do not agree with bc i hate the term and believe it oxymoronic. it is a fairly straightforward romance with paranormal shit happening in the foreground. a period piece not particularly for the folx end of the fag/folx gay book spectrum-- they happen to be gay but there's a lot of other shit happening. not a spicy romance as the tiktok girlies say. it is a period book that sort of elides over the worst parts of the 30s? eg there is no on-page or overt racism or antisemitism that the characters have to Confront. one of the lead's neighbors is a black nurse trying to start a NAACP chapter, but she's so fully fleshed out and such an enjoyable character it doesn't feel like the book is looking for moral points from modern readers. i also liked the general slow-build of the book and their relationship — i have no complaints about the intensity or pace of their relationship.
the one ding i have is that it is perhaps a touch too enthusiastic about period slang. it's fine when the two leads are talking to each other, especially bc their word choice is a large way they show their personality, but when there are more than two people in a scene it can grate a little for me. i do think the dialogue is generally the strong suit here, and the author particularly excels at two-person back and forths, so it’s not a frequent complaint.
i liked the contrast of the scam medium with the academic egyptologist, since many egyptologists were also scams. the scenes with the spirit are genuinely eerie, which is a very good contrast with the fairly straightforward, often sparse narration.
grudging respect for keeping a joke simmering on the back burner for four hundred pages before deploying it. this was a well-paced read i have no major complaints about.
i have to spin this book around in my brain and get a physical copy and flip back and forth and lot and make notes to myself in a separate notebook before i talk about this one here i think. same brain itch as a canticle for leibowitz.
i also read a bunch of comics but this section is already long enough goodbye
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watching
youtube
the first episode of the currently airing penguin tv show! at my bestie's house bc she has an hbo max subscription from something, unfortunately it is an emotionally fraught very tense show and we're kind of full up on those so i will have to finish this on my own. at no point did i say to myself "whoa that's colin farrell". both the prosthetic and accent work are off the charts.
i do Not like a piece of media about the mob. i will stomach it for batman. it's really wild how the accents they've chosen for gotham and her suburbs make me so so so weirdly homesick. one of the locations is an early McMansion and my bestie and i said almost simultaneously "are we in fucking Cherry Hill???" a jersey noveau riche town infested with notable McMansions.
i am constantly chasing the high of s1 black sails where everyone is frantically scheming and falling all over them fucking selves. this gets pretty close! it's big budget prestige tv with the storytelling chops to match so far. one of my favorite comic runs is The Long Halloween, partially about the fortunes of the Maroni and Falcone crime families of Gotham. this is loosely following that, but deviates enough to surprise me, which i enjoy. there have been enough faithful adaptations of that comic run imo.
optimistic about the rest of the season! i have such low expectations for batman media that it's refreshing to get like a genuinely good pilot episode out of the franchise.
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playing
i have Got to find a new game to play that i already own. genshin is such a good podcast game but i need Something New. surely the 576047357649857689 games across five libraries will save me.
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making
so many things happened this week. cat neuter and constipation episode. helped take apart and put back together a children's' room. lot of running around.
crunchy! i almost left these docs at goodwill bc i don't have a super high opinion of the company or the quality of the boots. i have heard my ENTIRE life about how long-lasting they are and how people have had the same boots for years but i completely shredded a pair during eight months in 2019. like the soles were worn almost completely smooth to the point they were a slipping hazard, half the eyelets were broken, and the leather was genuinely disintegrating. that was one of the busiest and most active periods of my life (classes at other campuses both semesters, a summer in new hampshire, the beginning of the makerspace) but i did expect them to hold up a little better or a little longer. they only got to experience about a month and a half of salt at the beginning and were regularly cleaned. yes i did buy them straight from the company.
anyway. these extremely ugly docs industrials had almost all their tread and magically fit me. like the rest of me, my feet are large and wide and difficult to fit. they are by Far the ugliest shoes i have ever owned. however. they will be the boots i will wear for when i need to be okay about potentially destroying my footwear.
hit em with some saddle soap and polished the toes, i seem to be flat out of leather conditioner so i was only able to hit the heels and one tongue. the laces are in the warsh.
they're real leather and were twelve dollars and miraculously fit me. you know that quote about americans being temporarily embarrassed millionaires? i still, in many ways, think of myself as a temporarily embarrassed abled person. i am slowly giving up on the idea of another remote job, bc they seem to all be fake, and going harder on city and county jobs. while i would rather wear my beloved CAT steel toes with the nice padded cuffs any day of the week, maybe these will be good for tromping around somewhere inspecting something. would Love a weights and measures inspection job if their office would return my polite messages.
also ruby goes home tonight! goodbye ruby!
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I know I and many other people make fun of betheada titles for what they are, but I really do think they do the 'expansive open world you can get lost in' better than anyone else who tries to make that claim
#like i can absolutely get lost exploring in skyrim fallout or starfield in a way i just dont have the desire to do with other games#and sometimes its what i want and they really do scratch that itch
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Dear Baby Bats - Goth Band Recommendations
As a middle sibling goth (I’ve been in the subculture for 10 years now, so not a baby bat but not an elder goth either), let me turn you on to some bands because we do not gatekeep in this house!! Also, if you want consistently good lesser-known & brand new goth band recs, go follow Awfully Sinister on TikTok and Instagram. He’s a DJ & has great recs. I've found so much music through him because it's really hard to keep up with all the new bands cropping up every year. You want to avoid the goth subreddit because they are extremely gatekeeper-y and argue over labels constantly. It’ll just confuse you, and they are not nice over there.
If you’re very new to the subculture, and you haven’t yet listened to all of Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, Sisters of Mercy, Christian Death, Cocteau Twins, Clan of Xymox, Joy Division, and Depeche Mode, go do so now. You'll want to know which of them you really enjoy the most because it will help you know which sub-subgenre(s) of goth you want to watch out for, and it'll tell you what to look for to find it. For example, Sisters of Mercy is the gothic rock subgenre, Christian Death is deathrock, Cocteau Twins is ethereal wave, Clan of Xymox is like the original darkwave, Joy Division is classic post-punk, etc. I haven’t included industrial, despite its proximity to the goth subculture, just because I actually don’t really know that many industrial bands beyond Skippy Puppy, Ministry, and Throbbing Gristle. Some other goth/goth-adjacent staple bands (that are very popular and very influential) that you should listen to if you haven’t already are The Damned, Killing Joke, The Cult, and Adam and the Ants/Adam Ant). I didn't know where to put She Wants Revenge or London After Midnight either, but they're also great.
I’ve bolded some of my absolute must-listen to goth bands, and I've put monthly Spotify listeners for each band so you know which ones deserve WAY more love. And in my pre-list ramblings for each OG band, I've given you some key terms to look up so you can more easily find music that's similar to what you enjoy. Okay, here we go:
If you like Bauhaus:
Bauhaus is a hard one because honestly, nobody really sounds like them, and they aren't really that closely associated with a specific sub-subgenre of goth. They were post-punk, they were art rock, they were experimental, they were sometimes very punk and at other times very gothic rock. They liked to call themselves “dark glam rock” (all four members are massive Bowie, T-Rex, and Iggy Pop fans), but you’re gonna have a hard time finding bands that sound like them if you look that term up. They probably have one of the most unique sounds of all-time. They’re my favorite band (I even have a tattoo for them, like I am devoted lol), but even I have a difficult time finding other bands that scratch their particular itch for me. These bands I’ve listed are as close as you’re gonna get to Bauhaus’ general vibe imo.
Virgin Prunes (80’s band that is technically deathrock but has the same absolutely unhinged, danceable sound that Bauhaus has, so they’re going here; one of my favorites; no one else does it like them and no one else ever will; I would actually give my left foot to see them live); 13.2k monthly listeners (this is actually physically painful to me, how is it this low!!! don't walk, RUN to go listen to them)
Alien Sex Fiend (80’s classic unhinged goth); 77k monthly listeners
Sextile (modern band that has some very Bauhaus-sounding guitar work at times but with heavy industrial influences); 147k listeners
The Danse Society (80’s unhinged goth; has similar experimental vibes to Bauhaus imo; one of my fave goth groups); 36k listeners
Sex Beat (80’s); not even really on Spotify
Ritual Howls (modern band; I don’t know why it gives Bauhaus, but it does; one of the few modern bands that scratches that particular itch for me); 45k listeners
The Agnes Circle (modern band; one of my favorites; they have the right Bauhaus-like atmosphere for me); 52k listeners
Traitrs (I can’t explain why they remind me of Bauhaus, but they do; another one of my fave modern bands; they make me want to start levitating and doing the Ian Curtis dance in the same way Bauhaus does lol); 239k listeners
Paralisis Permanente (underrated 80’s; they have a lot in common with Bauhaus’s sound actually, def give them a try!); 54k monthly listeners
The Birthday Party (80s band, totally unhinged; they’re less dark and atmospheric than Bauhaus, but if you take one listen to their album Junkyard, you’ll know exactly why I put them under this category haha; Nick Cave is the vocalist, which is amazing); 54k listeners
Tones on Tail (80s; Daniel Ash & Kevin Haskins of Bauhaus formed this group; I’d put Love and Rockets as well, which is all of Bauhaus’s members except Peter Murphy, but Love and Rockets weirdly bears little resemblance to Bauhaus’s music; but if you just generally want more of Bauhaus members' work, Love and Rockets is great, too); 81k listeners
Dalis Car (80s; collaboration between Peter Murphy and Japan's bassist; their music is extremely weird, so only listen if you really love the batshit insane Bauhaus songs or if you really live and breathe Peter Murphy like I do lol; their description on Spotify is so fucking funny); 7k listeners
I'd also recommend listening to Daniel Ash, David J, and Peter Murphy's solo work. They're all great!! Peter also did some amazing collaborations with Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails); the version of Reptile that they did together is better than Nine Inch Nail's original version imo, and you can find that entire session on Youtube!
If you like Siouxsie and the Banshees:
Siouxsie is another one that's hard to pin down sound-wise because again, they don't really fit into one specific sub-subgenre, so all of these recs are just goth bands with female vocalists who have the same kind of powerful vocals that Siouxsie does.
Second Still (modern band, one of my faves; singer sounds a lot like Siouxsie to me at times); 69k listeners
Skeletal Family (80’s band; has the same “women in punk” vibes that Siouxsie has); 55k listeners
Xmal Deutschland (80’s band; has the same powerful vocals that Siouxsie has; makes you wanna go stupid go crazy the way the Banshees do); 73k listeners
Secret Shame (modern band w/ woman singer; has the same rage that Siouxsie songs have to me, especially early Siouxsie); 6k listeners (let's get those numbers up, folks!!!)
Rosegarden Funeral Party (modern band w/ a woman vocalist); 57k listeners
Mephisto Walz (90s & 2000s; sounds so much like the Banshees at times); 56k listeners
The Creatures (80s; a Siouxsie Sioux & Budgie side project); 34k listeners
Madhouse (listen to Repulsion! 80s group that’s technically deathrock, but I put them under this category because the singer has Siouxsie-like qualities); not really on Spotify
Strange Boutique (90s; vocalist is Monica Richards of Faith and the Muse & Madhouse; this is probably my favorite project of hers); 112k listeners
If you like Depeche Mode:
For Depeche Mode enjoyers (which DM is kind of on the fringes of what’s considered “goth,” but they’re so entrenched in the subculture that I included them anyway), you’re gonna want to delve into goth playlists that have a lot of EBM (electronic body music) and modern goth that leans towards synthpop/synthwave. So those are the kinds of playlists you’ll want to search up for similar sounds to DM.
Nuovo Testamento (modern band; combines post-punk and pop elements in a way that’s very similar to Depeche Mode; lots of fun live, and they have a good sound); 25k listeners
Boy Harsher (modern band; relies heavily on synth; feels like it should be playing at every goth club); 558k listeners
ULTRA SUNN (modern band; singer sounds like Dave Gahan); 217k listeners (they just blew up on tiktok recently, which explains why this just skyrocketed since the last time I was on their Spotify page lol; good for them, good for them, they deserve it)
Ministry's first album (called With Sympathy), which was synthwave/synthpop before they went industrial (this is one of my all-time favorite albums)
French Police (modern band); 252k listeners
Closed Tear (modern band); 152k listeners
Night Sins (modern band); 33k listeners
Panic Priest (modern band; vocals sound decently similar to Dave Gahan & there is a lot of reliance on synth; In All Severity is a gorgeous song); 5k listeners
Fad Gadget (underrated 80’s; I just feel like if you like DM, you’re also gonna like Fad Gadget); 58k listeners
Martin Dupont (underrated 80s cold wave/synth pop; Inside Out is one of my favorite 80s songs); 26k listeners
If you like The Cure:
You'll be hard-pressed to find a goth band that wasn't influenced by The Cure, so I really can't give you any key terms for what to look up lol. They also changed their sound so frequently that it entirely depends on what era of The Cure's music you're looking to find similar music for.
Vision Video (modern band; combines post-punk and pop elements like The Cure does; one of my fave modern goth bands; they are INCREDIBLE live); 52k listeners (I'm gonna need y'all to get a song or two of theirs to blow up on tiktok expeditiously lol)
Urban Heat (modern band; great live); 36k listeners
The Chameleons (80’s band; very underrated; they are also very good live); 167k listeners
House of Harm (modern band, very new; also very good live; has pop elements); 44k listeners
Deceits (modern band, another very new one); 28k listeners (it's crazy how much this number has grown the past two months because it was in the single thousands not that long ago; everyone say thank you, tiktok)
Drab Majesty (modern band; their instrumentals remind me of The Cure); 172k listeners
Double Echo (modern band, one of my faves; their instrumentals also remind me of The Cure); 15k listeners (let's get these numbers up!!!)
The Bolshoi (underrated 80’s band that combines new wave and goth elements in a similar way to The Cure); 114k listeners
The Essence (underrated 80s band that sounds so much like The Cure it’s actually insane, but they’ve got their own sound too; they’re like a perfect blend of all of The Cure’s different sounds); 25k monthly listeners
The Glove (80s; a Robert Smith side project with Steven Severin from Siouxsie and the Banshees); 25k listeners
Crimson Ivy (80s band; singer sounds so a lot like a more yelly version of Robert Smith sometimes); not on Spotify
Miss Teen America (brand new band from NYC! They only have one single out right now, and it’s well worth listening to); 940 monthly listeners (y’all know what to do!!! Let’s get those numbers up, up, up!) link to their single: https://open.spotify.com/album/4nvdZeUVLLrMv3tEziCqm7?si=2WVS7-eYQLGR7Id3wLiKhg
If you like Clan of Xymox:
Most of these bands will be modern ones because Clan of Xymox was honestly way ahead of their time. (They are also amazing live, so go see them before they eventually call it quits!) For playlists that are full of their vibe, you’re gonna want to look up “darkwave” playlists and also some EBM. Clan of Xymox pioneered darkwave, so any darkwave band you listen to is gonna be influenced by their sound in some way or another.
Harsh Symmetry (modern, very new; very heavily relies on synth); 29k listeners
Ssleeping Desiress (modern band; instrumentals similar to Xymox); 55k listeners
Twin Tribes (probably my favorite modern goth band; they are fucking incredible and so good live!); 276k listeners
ACTORS (modern band; heavily relies on synth); 86k listeners
Mareux (modern; heavily relies on synth); 4.8 million listeners (this is wild!!!! everyone say thank you, tiktok)
Sixth June (modern); 23k listeners
Plastique Noir (modern); 40k listeners
Rendez Vous (modern); 160k listeners
Minuit Machine (modern); 97k listeners
The Frozen Autumn (90s & 2000s); 31k listeners
If you like Christian Death:
All of these recs will be deathrock recs or goth bands that heavily leaned on punk sounds. So if CD is the OG goth band you’re most fond of, you’re gonna want to delve into deathrock playlists for similar sounds.
Asylum Party (80’s band); not on spotify
45 Grave (80’s band); 47k listeners
Voodoo Church (80’s band; probably my favorite out of this bunch; I actually like them more than Christian Death); 7k listeners (let's get these numbers up immediately!!!!)
Ausgang (80’s band); 2k listeners (WHAT; they deserve so much more, damn)
Corpus Delicti (90’s band; they are very good; they sound the least like Christian Death on this list imo); 26k listeners
13th Chime (80’s band; very underrated); 6k listeners
UK Decay (you know, I actually don’t know what era they’re from; unhinged sound); 1k listeners (omg)
Super Heroines (underrated 80’s band; Eva O formed it); 2k listeners (you see what I meant about underrated?)
Specimen (80s band; this one could have just as easily gone under Bauhaus tbh, but the vocals are generally higher pitched than Peter Murphy’s, so I put them under this category); 102k listeners
Sex Gang Children (80’s band; just so unhinged & I love them for it); 27k listeners
Suspiria (90s, I think? I don’t actually know); barely on Spotify but 27k listeners
Theatre of Hate (80s); 7k listeners
Bloody Dead and Sexy (2000s, I think); 44k listeners
Mescaline Babies (2000s); 3k listeners
Acid Bats (2000s; Mexican band with Spanish lyrics); 2k listeners
Altar de Fey (80s band; formed in San Francisco!!); 23k listeners
Twisted Nerve (80s band; classified as “gothic punk,” so I felt this was the best category for them; they’re great; their sound also reminds me of early Siouxsie and the Banshees and Killing Joke); 2.5k listeners
Play Dead (80s); 8k listeners
Limbo (underrated 80s; if you like Bauhaus & Virgin Prunes as well, you’re gonna like this band); 413 listeners
If you like Cocteau Twins:
Cocteau Twins’ early sound is usually categorized as “ethereal wave” goth, so those are the playlists you’ll want to look up if you enjoy their early sound. If you like their later sound, you’re gonna want to lean more towards shoegaze for similar vibes. Admittedly, ethereal wave is one of the goth subgenres that I know the least about, so I’m not gonna be much help here.
Dead Can Dance (80’s band; NO one, and I mean NO ONE, was doing it like Dead Can Dance; so fun to dance to in the goth club); 332k listeners
Lycia (90’s band; their music is very transcendent); 20k listeners
Linea Aspera (modern band; gorgeous woman vocals; honestly, their music is just very beautiful); 67k listeners
This Mortal Coil (formed in the 80s; some songs feature Elizabeth Fraser & Robin Guthrie from Cocteau Twins, but even the ones that don’t still have an ethereal vibe similar to CT; Sixteen Days/Gathering Dust is just like the best song ever); 310k listeners
Autumn's Grey Solace (2000s); 62k listeners
Faith and the Muse; (90s); 22k listeners
This Ascension (90s); 4k listeners
Strawberry Switchblade (80s); 400k listeners
If you like Joy Division:
All of these bands will be ones that sound very classically post-punk, so those are the playlists to search out; emphasis on "classic" because post-punk is a very broad term that gets applied to a lot of music. I would argue that Joy Division has had the most influence out of all the OG goth bands on the current goth sound/goth renaissance we're going through right now, so there are a LOT of bands out there for you if you’re a JD fan.
Molchat Doma (modern band); 2.5 million listeners (wow lol, they've grown so much over the past two years, it's actually insane; good for them)
Soviet Soviet (modern band); 152k listeners
Fearing (modern band; very good live); 30k listeners
Ploho (modern band); 146k listeners
Pink Turns Blue (criminally underrated 80’s band; they are SO good live); 98k listeners (this is an actual travesty, this band is way too good to not even be in the hundred thousands)
The Sound (another incredibly underrated 80’s band); 119k listeners
This Cold Night (modern; has the deep vocals of Joy Division and the driving bass but more stripped back than JD); 150k listeners
Bleib Modern (modern; has very similar vocals to Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, which is a band listed under the Sisters of Mercy section of this post, so if you end up liking this band, you should also listen to Red Lorry Yellow Lorry & vice versa); 36k listeners
Lebanon Hanover (modern; has the existential angst that Joy Division always ignites in me but more stripped back); 936k listeners (this is crazy, holy shit!!!!!! go, Lebanon Hanover, go!!)
She Past Away (modern; deep vocals); 226k listeners
Belgrado (modern; woman vocals!); 18k listeners (they deserve better than this!!)
Leonora Post Punk (modern; Mexican goth band w/ Spanish vocals! They’re amazing! They have those deep vocals you want when you’re looking for a similar sound to Joy Division); 56k listeners
O. Children (modern; has the deep vocals & interesting bass lines that Joy Division was known for; great band); 29k listeners
If you like Sisters of Mercy:
This is one of my least favorite goth subcategories, which is odd because I actually love Sisters. But if you’re looking for a lot of music that sounds like SoM, I’d suggest delving into the 90’s and early 2000’s goth music scene. Search out those playlists. A lot of the 90s and 2000s goth bands were very derivative of Sisters of Mercy.
Rosetta Stone (90’s band); 54k listeners
Miazma (modern); 10k listeners
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry (another criminally underrated 80’s band; one of my fave goth bands); 40k listeners (THEY!! DESERVE!! BETTER!!)
Dreamtime (modern); 65 listeners (ouch lol, please go show them some love)
Fields of the Nephilim (80’s, I think; if you’re a metalhead, you’ll probably appreciate this band); 95k listeners
The Merry Thoughts (80s); 19k listeners
The March Violets (underrated 80s; might be a controversial opinion to put them under SoM, but I’m standing by it); 69k listeners
Horror Vacui (modern; it’s kind of a stretch putting them here tbh, but I couldn’t figure out what other category to put them under); 44k listeners
The Sisterhood (spin-off Sisters of Mercy group that was formed by goth king Andrew Eldritch himself); 3k listeners
The Mission (formed by former Sisters of Mercy members; Wasteland by them was actually one of the first songs to get me into goth music); 180k listeners
Eyes of the Nightmare Jungle (late 80s & 90s; every time a song by them comes on, I’m convinced it’s a Sisters song until the singer starts singing lol); 13k listeners
Ex-Voto (formed in 1982, but most of their albums on Spotify came out in the 2000s; this band is like if Fields of Nephilim had a baby with Clan of Xymox & then sprinkled some industrial techniques in); 6k listeners
Also, if you want a 1500-song, 105-hour goth playlist that’s constantly growing, here you go. The name of it is a dig at my ex lol: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6jCV530pMmOEmDHj4CLNka?si=cEVKiyAwQpaieGiV2pMyqw
#goth music#Bauhaus#the cure#Christian death#Siouxsie and the banshees#goth#post-punk#baby bats#music recs#Joy division#Depeche Mode#clan of Xymox#sisters of mercy#Cocteau twins#Spotify
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Wait ok hear me out. Bored preggo wife starts reading smut and finds she really enjoys a breeding kink/men getting real nasty and aggressively talking about breeding their woman. So she asks Joel to try it and when he does, she’s like grossed out “uhh… nevermind” and he’s so fuckin frustrated and blue balled 😂
Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Role Play Me Not
Notes: Thank you for your patience with these requests lately, this one was from March and I've been thinking about it ever since!
warnings: almost smut, lots of dirty talk and degrading language, and usual shennanigans with these two
18+ ONLY
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It’s pretty late, Joel’s body is wracked, and nothing feels better than the foam mattress bed he’s curled up on. You had a pretty good day, judging by your happy soft hums and scrolling aimlessly on your phone. Hopefully whatever nonsense thing you’re gonna purchase with his card and surprise his doorstep tomorrow morning won’t be too harrowing, but for now, he’ll live with it if it means some rest.
But your incessant giggles, matched with the way you’re shrinking under your brightly lit phone reading something so furiously just begs Joel to ask:
“What are you doin’?”
“Nothin!” You quip quickly, rotating best you can so he can’t see the obvious thing you’re hiding on your phone.
“Okay.” He tosses the cover over his shoulder and presses his head back into the pillow again to close his eyes.
Obviously not the answer you wanted, so you loudly snort with your fake ass ‘Tee Hee!’ again because this motherfucker better take the god damn hint.
He sighs. “What.”
“Hmm? Nothin!”
Joel squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. You can’t see his face from your side, but even if you could, he doesn’t think it would deter you.
You clear your throat before uttering your loudest and most obnoxious giggle.
“JUST—!” Tossing the covers down and rolling to his back, he remembers to take a breath, channeling his calm bear voice. “—just show me already. Please.” He’s exhausted, rubbing his face with both hands before holding out one palm behind him for you to place your phone.
You excitedly shove it in his grasp, and Joel rolls over to see. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the brightness, so he collects his reading-glasses from the tableside and props them upon his nose.
Its quiet for a solid minute, and your heart is racing as he stare at his broad back, the fabric of his shirt all stretched tight to accentuate that massive man of man that is your manly man—
He rolls back over with a questionable uncertainty, fear and paralysis mixed with concern and shock.
You’re giddily nodding your head, lips tucked under your teeth from the excitement. “Can we do that?”
He opens his mouth but no words come out. He doesn’t even know where to begin.
“This is—uh. you like…this?”
“Well I don’t know, but I wanna give it a try…”
He scratches his skull with two fingers, hoping it’ll dig deep enough to itch the bad feeling he has in his brain. “I don’t know, baby, It’s a bit … much.”
“But you call me your pretty slutty wife sometimes! It’s not much different!”
He glances back at the vivid words on the screen. It is VERY much different than that. But you put on your famous puppy pout, with those big round gleaming eyes, trembling fishy lips staring up at him, topping it off by squishing your tits together so they’re bursting out of the nightgown and smashing into his chest.
That’ll do it.
He shrugs, chucking his bifocals behind him with renewed energy arousing his body, especially down south. He gets to his knees, pulling your cover off from your lap and tracing his big hands over the soft expanse of your thigh like a new toy. you bite your lips, shouldering off your spaghetti straps so your tits are close to being popped out. He rolls the soft fabric of your gown up your growing belly and presses his lips against the swell. “Shit, that’s what I like to see. Gonna be a little fuck toy whore for Daddy to play with?”
“Ah…time out.” You hold your hands in a T formation. He stops rubbing and looks down towards your face.
“Uh—yes?”
“I don’t like whore.”
“Ah okay—Daddy’s fuck toy?”
“Ok that’s—mmm.”
“What? No good?”
“It’s just ok. We’ll work on that. You can keep going.”
He shakes his head a little but resumes his gentle ghost of his fingers and lips, cascading lower until the scratchy prickle of his beard is at your naval. “Bred ya nice n’ good huh? Little breedin’ stock just f’me—“
“Oh hold on.”
“What.”
“Breeding ‘stock’? What am I, chicken soup?” You chuckle.
He purses his lips. “I don’t know, it was in the damn fic you made me read!”
“Okay okay, sheesh!” You toss your hands up.
“Can I please keep goin now?”
You nod, and he commences lower.
“Body was made for breeding. Now spread those petals—“
“Oh what I’m a flower now?”
“Damnit, Baby! Am I doin this or not??” He curses.
You go quiet and nod again, shrinking in against the headboard.
“Just about had it with ya whinin’, baby. I should tie you up like the naughty cow you are—“
“Farm metaphor again?”
“N BREED YOU—“ he seethes, gripping your thighs and hitching them around his hips so you can feel his bulge press into your core. “Breed you over and over again, like the dumb little cum dump you deserve—“
“Ugh hold up this position isn’t comfortable I need ta—“ you wiggle out of his grasp and begin trying to alleviate the pressure your baby is putting on your spine. Joel all but abandons holding your legs as he sits on his knees in front of you with his thumb and finger pressed tightly into his eye sockets.
You wiggle and roll, unable to find a good position to sink yourself comfortably. The bed shifts with each turn, and Joel is damn near done role playing with you and about to just fuck you with your face down in the mattress whether you wanted to or not when—
“Okie! I’m ready Daddio!” You announce.
You’re in the exact same position.
“Are we good to continue?” He asks slowly, his frustration being held at bay along with his hard cock that’s begging for some action finally.
You nod.
He finally tugs his dick out and positions it at your entrance, spitting onto your slit. “Now shut up, take this fucking cock, and let me fuck my seed into you cuz that’s all ya good for—“
“Ya know what.” You wave your hand over this whole scene. “I’m done. This is … no. Nevermind, I’m done with this. M’ready for bed now.”
You slap his cock away like it’s a needy hand and roll to your side, slinking the cover over your shoulder again and turning off your light with a little grin.
Joel just falls back on his haunches, his cheeks puffed red, balls swollen blue, fully awake all over, with a grumpy cat-worthy scowl etched into his face staring down at you.
- - - -
Taglist:
@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow
#pedro pascal smut#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#last of us fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#tlou smut#the last of us smut#the last of us fic#last of us fic#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#joel dealing with preggo wife#joel miller fluff#joel miller fan fic
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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries
Day 11 of TUI-Mas
Warnings: pregnancy, Reader has a baby bump and stretch marks (briefly mentioned), talk of insecurities
WC: 1.2k
A/N: this was inspired by an ask that I got for Eddie feeling so grateful when he witnesses a sweet moment between Ms. Sweetheart/Reader and Harris, but I can't find who sent it. If it was you, thank you!
November 1999
“Har? You ready for bed?”
Harris nods, peeling back his Spider-Man comforter and slipping beneath the covers. He points to the laminated list that’s Velcroed to the back of his door. You run your finger down the column where he’s used the dry erase marker to check off each task in his routine: shower, comb his hair, brush his teeth, pee, and change into his pajamas.
“Nice job!” You walk—though at this point in your pregnancy, it’s a bonafide waddle—from the doorway towards the small bookshelf in the corner of his room and pluck the newest Magic Treehouse from its spot. Removing the bookmark, you cautiously lower yourself onto his bed, resting your free hand on your belly to keep steady.
He snuggles into you, head nestled against your arm as you read aloud. “Chapter four,” you begin, but before you can continue, Harris speaks.
“Mommy?” His voice is tiny, very much unlike his usual boisterousness, and you can’t help but feel worried.
You brush an unruly lock of his hair from his forehead. “What’s up?”
Harris pauses for a moment, singular front tooth scraping over his bottom lip anxiously. “What if Baby Brother doesn’t like me?” His hazel eyes are shiny with incoming tears. “What if he doesn’t think I’m a good big brother?”
Your heart splinters into a thousand pieces when you hear the concern in his voice. “Oh, Har,” you murmur, shifting your weight to find a more comfortable position, “he’s going to love you. More than that; he’s going to look up to you. You’ll be his role model.”
“But I don’t know how to be a role model.” He keeps his gaze trained on the webbing shooting from Spider-Man’s fingers. “An’ everyone keeps saying that being a big brother is a really important job, but I’ve never been one before! What if I’m not good at it?”
You consider your words for a moment. “Can I tell you a secret?” you finally ask, softly smiling when his attention immediately snaps back to you. “Do you remember when I was your teacher, and you wanted me to be your mommy?”
“Mhm. An’ now you are.”
“And now I am,” you agree with a laugh. “But when your dad and I first started talking about me being your mommy, I was so scared.”
Harris’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You were scared?” His nose wrinkles as he tries to discern your reasoning. “Why?”
“Well, being a mommy is a super important job, too,” you tell him, tucking the bookmark back between the pages and setting the paperback down on the bed. “And I didn’t want to mess up or make any mistakes. But guess what?”
“What?” He places his hand on top of yours.
You lean in and whisper, “I’ve messed up and made mistakes.” Your tone stays lighthearted, but both of you know that the words are spoken with truth. “There have been times where I should have been tougher, and times that I should have been more easygoing. And sometimes, I look back and think, ‘why did I do that?’” You shake your head to combat the memories of missteps you’ve inadvertently conjured up. “But you still love me, just like Baby Brother will always love you.”
Harris exhales with a heaviness that’s almost comical coming from a seven-year-old. He’s not wholly convinced, so you continue.
“Har, you are gonna be the best big brother the world has ever seen.” The promise is honey-sweet and just as natural. “There are so many things you’ll get to teach the baby that Daddy and I can’t.”
He allows himself to look at you once again, curiosity overtaking nervousness. “Like what?”
“Like…drawing,” you say, scratching an itch on the side of your stomach where a stretch mark has formed. “You’re our resident artist; no one draws a family portrait better than Harris Munson.”
He giggles at this. “Yeah, an’ you guys don’t know a lot about superheroes; only a little bit.”
“Exactly. Only what you’ve taught us.” You kiss the crown of his head. “Baby Brother is so lucky to have you.”
Harris nods, letting out a yawn that alerts you to the time.
“Come on, let’s get you into bed so you’re not snoozing in school tomorrow.” You lower his pillow from where he’s propped it against the wall, but he doesn’t move from his spot.
“I wanna say good night to Baby Brother.” He rests his cheek on the swell of your stomach with his hand just above your belly button. “Good night, Baby Brother. I love you, and I can’t wait to meet you in…” he rotates his neck so you’re looking directly at his nostrils, “how many days?”
“Thirteen, if he comes on time,” you say, adding a gentle reminder, “but sometimes babies show up a little late, so he might not get here until closer to Thanksgiving.”
“Oh.” He considers this for a second, his gaze shifting back and forth from your belly to your eyes. “If he comes on Thanksgiving, do I still get to eat mashed potatoes?”
You shrug. “I don’t see why not. As long as you save some for me when I get home.”
Harris harrumphs at the prospect of sharing and you laugh, which gives you the urge to pee—again. “Sweet dreams, Har Bear.” You kiss his scalp again, slowly rising to flick off the light switch. There will be a time when he eschews the nickname, labeling it babyish, but it lives on for another day.
In your beeline for the bathroom, you find Eddie waiting just outside Harris’s room. His cheeks are pink as though he’s been caught, and you notice the glassiness coating his chocolate eyes.
“Eds? You okay?” You murmur the question under your breath, not wanting to alert Harris.
“Mhm. Yeah, ‘m fine.” He hooks his fingers into the white cotton sleeves of his undershirt and wipes at his face. “Just pregnancy hormones,” he teases with a soft chuckle, and you nudge his hip with yours. “Really, though; everything’s good.”
You want to press him further, but the full-term baby tap-dancing on your bladder has other plans, so you have to surrender.
Eddie sighs, contentment flooding his body as he blinks away the blurriness and closes Harris’s door. Domesticity has wrapped itself around him, and the softness with which you talk to Harris only has him falling deeper into its embrace.
He used to describe himself as lucky, but you’re always quick to point out that luck has nothing to do with it. He’s deserving of his little family and the unconditional love that comes with it.
But deserving doesn’t explain you showing up at the Hideout three years ago, or him picking you out of the crowd, or you being Harris’s teacher and fostering an awkward but necessary reunion. There’s a solid chance that he’d still be the angry and defensive man who’d shoved his dreams away, because holding hope that they would come to fruition was simply too scary to consider. But now, despite years of self-sabotage, he’s got everything he could ever want.
So, yeah. Eddie Munson is a lucky man.
--
#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things#tui
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hi ! can I req a fic of sylus x a spoiled pref fem reader :33 where shes bratty n spoiled kinda like ur dangerous intention fic. maybe hcs of how they were before they got together n how their like fter !
hi anon! i tried to do something like that and this is what came of it. It's not quite like my bodyguard!au fic but I hope it's similar enough to scratch that itch a little. I am working on a part two for Dangerous Intentions though so I hope this snack is filling enough until I finish the second part. Thank you for the request and hope you enjoy (sorry its not as long as I had hoped. after i wrote it, it just didn't feel right to try to make it longer). ♥
Sylus spoils you endlessly, but little do you know that he’s been keeping a tab on how much he’s yielded to every whim and greedy desire you’ve demanded today. He might even make you work for it, your reward a kiss and the thing you wanted. Sylus gladly does it all with a saccharine smile and the occasional teasing remark, urging you to dip your fingers into his seemingly bottomless pockets. He didn’t care, money was the least valuable thing in this world, after all. The most valuable thing was right in front of him, and his expression softens when he sees the way yours lights up at the kittens displayed just inside the pet store. He knew your hectic life as a hunter could never allow for a kitten and he considered whether or not he should buy the whole store so you could come visit them every day, whenever you wanted.
Sylus is generous, doting, loving. You’ll find out how much once you get home and he pays you back for every indulgence during your date.
“What?” he purrs, holding you fast when you try to run away. “You should’ve expected this, kitten.”
When you whine and try to squirm away, that only makes him more excited, eagerly holding you fast. This was the part of the game he loved most. If he really thought you wanted to escape him, he’d gladly let you go, but he could tell from the way your cheeks flushed and your breath hitched with every touch of his lips on yours that you wanted him too.
What a dishonest lover you were.
“You didn’t really think I’d let you go so easily, did you?”
When you push the heel of your hand under his chin to stop him from kissing a trail down your throat, protesting that you have work tomorrow, it only makes him want to mark you up more; letting everyone at the Hunter’s Association know that you belong to him. His thoughts dip into dangerous territory but he holds himself in check, instead savoring the way you feel pinned underneath him on the couch.
“What about my reward? Don’t I deserve one for being such a good boyfriend?” He’s teasing you and he delights in the conflict he can see on your face. It wasn’t often Sylus would treat your outings as something transactional or even a deal of sorts, but sometimes you were so cold to him that he couldn’t help himself from responding in kind.
“Fine, but only a little–hey!” He hardly waited the moment the words left your lips, voracious in his desire. It was the only time he allowed himself to be a little greedy with you. Allowed the barest trace of vulnerability to seep into his eyes as he leaned down to capture your lips in a hot kiss.
He hoped one day you’d give yourself to him just as freely, too.
#sylus x reader#sylus x mc#lads sylus#sylus#lnds sylus#l&ds sylus#sylus x you#love and deepspace sylus#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace#my writing#sylus fic#sylus fanfiction#lads x you#no beta don't come for me#sylus x brat#sylus x bratty reader#darling anon#answered#dearly beloved
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10 Ideas for When You Want to Practice Divination but 'Don't Have a Good Reason to'
Sometimes you just get an urge to do some tarot, or the urge to mess with runes, but there's nothing you really want or need out of it. So I came up with some ideas that scratch the divination magic itch!
To note: for most of these prompts I will be referring to "cards" since I prefer cartomancy the most, however most of these ideas can be adapted into other forms of divination.
1. Artwork
I love drawing a random tarot card and making a quick and easy collage. Or sometimes I let the cards pick a prompt for me!
2. Make your own oracle cards/make your own form of divination
You can create your own themes, give the cards a specific use, or even just make some cards meant for witchy decoration-- do whatever you please! Likewise, you can also create your own divination system using items, symbolism, or "runic" imagery.
3. "Hang out" with your preferred divination device
I like to sit with my cards and admire the artwork, or sometimes I'll watch a movie while randomly shuffling them. It helps me feel connected to them!
4. Conduct an "interview"
Since my preferred method of divination is my tarot cards, I'll typically ask them to give me a reversed card for 'no' and a right-side-up card for 'yes'. I'll then proceed to ask it whatever questions pop into my mind. Sometimes I'll even ask it questions about myself. You can definitely adapt this idea into other forms of divination and give it a try!
Pick a card and then pick a song you feel fits the vibe of the card the most. Keep doing this until you have a full fledged playlist!
5. Make a divination-led playlist!
6. Learn a new form of divination
To name a few for inspiration: Aeromancy, Bibliomancy, Carromancy, Curiomancy, Cubomancy, Dowsing, Dream Interpretation, Scrying, Palmistry.
Please note that some forms of divination may be closely tied to closed practices and cultures and should be treated with respect.
7. Create "companion" cards for your tarot deck OR "companion runes" for rune casting!
This one coincides with idea #2 but it's a concept I love. The idea is you add new symbolic cards/runes based on preference, personal ideas, etc. It's a great way to make your deck feel even more personal to you! You could even find preexisting runes/cards and add those in if you're unsure about creating your own.
8. Make your own divination spreads
Even if you won't nessicarily use them in the moment, or even if you have a lot of spreads saved-- you can still have fun coming up with your own and writing them down to test out in the future! Think about hobbies, interests, or themes you like to inspire you.
9. Multi divination tool readings
Sometimes its fun to figure out how you can use multiple forms of divination. Write down some ideas in your grimoire on how you can possibly incorporate multiple methods so you can test it out in the future!
10. Try to predict your dreams
This one may not be a big favorite for everyone (especially considering you can argue that you'll subconsciously make your dream turn out a certain way because of your reading), but it was a fun activity i used to do when I was a beginner and needed an excuse to practice my skills! I usually would just ask a baseline question like "what will my dream look like overall?" And then from there I would ask more questions to get an idea of what it would look like.
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I hope my list of ideas were helpful for anyone in a divination slump! I understand they may not be helpful for everyone so feel free to make your own posts with your own ideas! Likewise feel free to comment any other ideas.
#card divination#divination witch#divination#tarot tips#tarot cards#tarotblr#tarot#rune casting#runes#palmistry#pendulum#witch#witchblr#witchy#witches on tumblr#beginner witch tips#witchy tips#tarot tumblr#grimoire prompts#grimoire ideas#bos prompts#bos ideas#grimoire#book of shadows
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if you're a radfem (or feminist in general) chances are you're dealing with these: repressed anger and the effects of gaslighting
if you're exhausted a lot (without strenuous physical activity and lack of sleep), find yourself having outbursts of strong emotion, feeling desperate for a form of escape, fantasizing about drastic measures, anxious and "forgetful" about memories you have, nervous about speaking about your experiences . . .
here's some tricks on how i've been coping:
-boundaries. if you can cut off people (irl or online) that cause you to spiral into hate, frustration, anger at their ignorance/malice, do it. even if it's a musician whose one song you like. or your brother or dad. limit time as much as possible with them. the less access they have, the less relevant they become, the more energy you conserve.
-do art! create something, it doesn't matter what it is. express those emotions! make sure you're doing it in a judgement-free zone. it's important you don't become a critic at this time. do messy, honest art (sometimes i write short scenes of gay/lesbian characters to cope with the homophobia in my life, and it makes me feel MUCH better and less cynical, sometimes you need to create beauty to remember it exists in the world)
-get out! get out into nature, if you can. if you can't immerse yourself in some form of it. try watching a potted plant for a while or watch insects. take interest in the mundane aspects of life. see that leaf curl? that ant? you're part of that. when you see the clouds, remember they are part of the cycle. the earth grows into its beauty as you do. the moon is the sky's cycle tracker. you belong to this world. you belong in it. this is your home. revel in it.
-if you can, and if you want to, hang out with animals. animals are great companions with none of the misogyny, internalized or otherwise! they don't mind if you cry, either. seriously, if you need non-draining, non-complicated companionship, animals are a good option. it's also good to remember you're a simple animal sometimes, with simple needs. sometimes all you need is a nice belly rub and a little treat.
-cultivate female friendships where it's safe to rant and also not all about ranting. your friendships should be a comfort, not a chore. you need irl community. if you can access it at this time, if you can find a way to cultivate it, please do. it may save you
-it is okay to enoy things despite the evil in the world. you don't have to be an activist 24/7. go watch your favorite movie. listen to your favorite comedian. and let down your guard while you're enjoying that little something. it's important you don't fall into analyzing things.
-for the gaslighting, start having conversations where you make it explicitly clear that you want the other party to ONLY listen. also, JOURNAL, even if it's just a paragraph or two sentences. write down the small important facts of your day. you'll either build a more reliable memory or come to see how reliable your memory is. just don't hang out with people that are constantly testing you. that is not an environment where you develop healthy trust in yourself.
-fight back! these are some ways to heal from the bruising of the world, but honestly? you need to acknowledge how RIGHT and GOOD your anger is. and one of the best ways to do that is to fight back! do something that addresses part of the injustice your heart is screaming about. it doesn't have to be big, it just needs to help someone and address the situation. address the alarms in your brain telling you something isn't right and you have to do something about it. scratch that itch! do that something. you will feel really good
please feel free to add any other tips you guys may have for cultivating joy, hope and energy, because we don't have to be miserable while/for doing the right thing
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popping in to say i am OBSESSED with your farmer interpretations. im not a big stardew valley fan (not bc of anything, its just not my sort of thing) but gahhhhhh. oh my god. that one painting comic and the background-music writing rattle around in my head so muchhh. they just scratch such a specific itch in my brain.
like. interacting with the world around you on such a different, alien level from anybody else- but not noticing or caring because its just what you've always seen the world as. it isnt scary, it doesnt completely warp your mind, it doesnt drive you to the brink of madness- its just normal. what the world is supposed to be.
it gives you advantages in some situations. but it also isolates you, in a subtle way. because you're different, 'biologically' (for lack of a better term), you cant see what people "should" see, or do what "normal" people should do. you will always just be a little off to people- just through your habits, which seem completely normal and logical to you- enough to put them on edge. its not enough to set anything bigger off, but it shows that you will always be different. you will never be like them, whether you want to or not.
..whoops. sorry for waxing poetic or whatever in your askbox lol i am just a very very big fan of this specific type of thing. anyways! thank you for making this specific interpretation that will probably haunt me for a bit. i hope you have a good day ^-^
Yep, you hit it right on the nail! That's exactly what I'm going for!!
And with the new update (no spoilers here) it seems that's what the game is encouraging you to be!
I like writing them in this way because it adds a wonderfully comedic depression to them! A subtle psychological horror I can use for drama later👀
And again... cuz funny haha 😂
I noticed the Farmer's quirks are only sometimes included in others' writing and only really included for comedic purposes. Still, I think the farmer's odd behavior can add to almost any situation if you know how to work with it!
I hope to haunt you more in the future! Have a great day as well :D
#stardew valley#sdv#stardew farmer#sdv farmer#ask#I do plan on doing something horror related in the future!#but that's a LOOONNNG ways away
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Allergies
SYNOPSIS: After you and Ellie take down a plant monster, you quickly find out why it was being so aggressive in the first place. OR An overdue sex pollen fic.
Warnings/Notes: Smut, Sex Pollen, Minor Breeding Kink, Telepathic Reader, Oral, Strap-On (R!Receiving Both) / This is actually pretty old. It didn't feel finished, so I held onto it for a while. After polishing it a little I think it's as done as it's gonna get.
You and Negasonic are both exhausted after that last mission.
“I have no idea why that creature was so hostile, or what it was even doing in the city. Those things usually stick to their dens in the forests, especially around this time of year,” she comments. For someone who tries so hard to look like a delinquent, she actually paid a lot of attention when she was in school, enough to have an internship at Stark Industries and a few scholarships under her belt.
Graduated students are still permitted to live at Xavier’s, and they even get upgraded rooms; however, they still have to share. At least you two don’t have to deal with immature freshmen in the communal showers anymore. That’s enough to keep you as roommates, despite your differences.
“I’m just glad it’s over with,” you say, punctuating your sentence with a sneeze. You haven’t stopped doing that since the end of the fight, when the plant-like beast was eventually herded back to its den with some minor injuries. Your mind control wasn’t as useful as anticipated, but due to the need for physical touch to even try, you got plenty of the pollen in your system, more so than your teammates, though they were also given a decent dusting. “We should shower.”
“You first,” Ellie replies. You head to the restroom.
Once the water starts running, you think about her. You two have lived together for about half a year now, and you still have no idea how she feels about you.
You two will watch a few episodes of a TV show you both like, share the same opinions of the relationships and plot points, and it really seems like you could be friends, but then later, sometimes within hours, she’s right back to her snarky remarks and cold-shouldering, like it never happened. You’ll accompany each other to the gym, or dinner, and get along just fine, even if it’s just scrolling through your phones and showing each other Tiktoks and other memes. But then, again, coldness. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong, and you’re one more of her little comments away from just grabbing her and learning everything there is to know about her maze of a mind.
No, not really. That would be wrong, violating. You’re just frustrated, you know that. You want to be her friend, maybe even more than her friend, but she just won’t let you in!
You finish up your shower, and return to your room, cozying up on your bed. Ellie’s already pulled up Dexter on the TV so that you can resume where you left off in your rewatch in anticipation for the new season.
Her shower is speedier than yours. Her hair is so cute, even when it’s wet. Maybe you should ask her what hairdresser she goes to.
She glances at you, seeing that you’re comfortable before pressing play.
“Y’know, Lila reminds me of Mandy Milkovich,” you comment.
Ellie looks at you like you’ve just announced your plans to glitterbomb Wolverine.
“What? I thought I was allowed to talk if we’ve both seen the episode or movie before,” you say.
“No, no, you are, but that’s actually… That’s an interesting connection to make,” Ellie explains. “You’re right.”
“Thanks?”
“Yeah.”
You watch the rest of the episode in a silence that’s actually kind of odd for you two. As the silence grows, so does a weird tension, each of you glancing at each other and trying not to get caught, but ultimately failing. Your skin starts to itch, but even as you scratch, it doesn’t go away. You even try some lotion from your nightstand, and that makes the itching worse. You’d tear off your clothes if Ellie wasn’t there. A strange thought trickles into your mind, urging you to do it anyways, and maybe even take hers off, too. You have an idea of what she looks like under her clothes, you had gym together in high school. Perverse thoughts continue to plague you, starting off as intrusive before suddenly they feel… Natural.
She doesn’t allow the next episode to autoplay.
“Do you feel… Weird?” she asks. You nod. “Me too.”
“Cool. Uh, what could be causing this?” you wonder, sitting up and turning to look at her.
“No idea, or… Oh, fuck.”
“Oh, fuck?” you repeat, wondering why she would say such a thing.
“When that creature is in heat, all other senses and instincts are dulled. It wandered off and was hostile due to unfamiliar surroundings and the threat we posed. As a defense mechanism, it covered us in-”
“No,” you realize. “That’s real?! That’s a real thing?!”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “It’s only gonna get worse from here.”
“The effects are documented?! Why didn’t they warn us?!”
“That specific species hasn’t been studied enough. We didn’t know if they reproduced more like plants, or like animals… Until now, I guess,” Ellie explains. “Well, at least we weren’t too exposed to it. Too much of it and you don’t really have a choice but to do certain things, or-”
“Speak for yourself, my mind control abilities require skin-to-skin! What’s gonna happen to me?” you ask, frightened.
“Well, unless you, y’know, you’re gonna be in a lot of pain. I don’t know for how long, again, this species isn’t well-studied due to its reclusive nature, but-” She cuts herself off with a sigh. ”I’m not the best person to talk to about this.”
“Considering you know so much about it, why wouldn’t you be the best person to talk to?”
“Because the more I talk about the effects, the more I want to prevent you from suffering from them,” she admits, finally meeting your gaze, and you could drown in the depth of her eyes, black oceans that are burning hot even when they aren’t glowing orange.
“You just said you weren’t exposed to it very much, so why would you…?”
“You really don’t know?” she asks, sounding almost angry.
“Know what?”
“And everyone was telling me I was being so obvious,” she scoffs.
“What?!” you ask again, exasperated already by her vagueness.
“I’m into you, for fuck’s sake!” she confesses.
“Is that why you’re so unpredictable?!” You’re shocked. Of all the possible reasons for her hot-and-cold act, you hadn’t considered this. You sigh. “Well, okay. If it gets too bad, help me out. I’m consenting now before my condition gets worse and you won’t be able to tell if I’m telling the truth or not.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Y/N, I can’t just hook up with you and pretend like nothing happened! I’m not like that,” she says.
“Who said we had to pretend like it didn’t happen? I’m interested in you, too. We get this over with and then we start dating or whatever you want to do. You’ll probably change your mind once you’ve been with me, though.”
“Why would you say that?” Ellie asks. She sounds… Defensive.
“It’s prolonged skin-to-skin contact. No one’s ever stayed after… That. They can’t even look at me. I know their most vulnerable secrets, and they know mine. And that’s with me trying to prevent absorbing anything. Once I… We… Y’know, that gets pretty hard to not do, and I get the feeling it’s gonna be even harder if my mind is only focused on one thing.”
“You warned them first?” she wonders. You nod. “Then it’s their own damn fault, not yours. I’m fine with that, gets everything out in the open before we get in too deep. Well, before you do. I- All I think about is you, honestly. I know we don’t do a whole lot together, but living with you, watching our favorite shows, all that… I love it. I never want it to end. I wish I wasn’t too cowardly to show it.”
“You’re showing it now,” you tell her, surprised at her honesty but wanting to encourage it.
“I guess I am,” she admits, soothed by your words. “Can I kiss you?”
You nod, though you’re a bit nervous.
Ellie ventures from her bed to yours, taking your face in her hands. She looks as nervous as you feel, but she goes for it. You kiss back, of course.
When you part, she smiles.
“You really like me, too?”
“I told you,” you reply.
“I guess I just wasn’t expecting…” She sighs and smiles again. “That was nice.”
“Wanna do it again?” you offer with a cheeky grin. She nods, and the two of you kiss again, and again, and again, until you’re under her, thighs interlocked as you both needily roll your hips. Her hands slide up your shirt, but before she gets to your chest, she asks:
“Can I?”
“Of course,” you reply, and she gets back to work, resuming the kiss while massaging your breasts and using her thumbs to rub your nipples through your bra. Your thighs squeeze around the one of hers between them, and you can feel her satisfaction.
Ellie pulls away. Oh no, don’t do that.
“This is really okay, right?”
“Can’t you tell?” you ask. Your hands were already cupping her cheeks, but you press into them a little harder, giggling at her smushed face.
“Oh, that’s what that is… I just thought it felt really good to be, y’know…” Riding your thigh.
We’re touching. I can sense what you’re thinking, to an extent. Surface level stuff, can’t go deeper without actually trying, you tell her without opening your mouth. And because I’m not guarding myself all the way, you’re able to feel, y’know… Some of what I’m feeling.
“So cool…” she murmurs, and you catch a hint of excitement at the thought of…
You blush, a sheepish smile on your face.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Oh, wow, okay, I mean, I know you warned me, but- Wait, not like that, I want this still, just… I gotta be more careful.”
“Why?” you ask reflexively, but you know. She thinks it before she says it:
“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She puts her hands against yours, smiling again when she feels just how much more attractive she made herself to you by saying that and genuinely meaning it. You pull your hands away to take off your shirt, helping her with hers. “Wow.”
“I- I can put my shirt back on.”
She puts her hands on your hips and oh, okay. It was a good “wow.”
“This is pretty convenient,” she murmurs. “People don’t like this?”
“Just wait ‘til we climax, okay? You’ll change your mind.”
I don’t think I will, Ellie thinks. Nothing about her could change my mind at this point.
You gasp at that.
“I, uh, I’m sorry,” she murmurs, embarrassed.
You shake your head, the need between your thighs only growing with time.
Ellie kisses you again, reaching around you for the clasp of your bra as it gets deeper. She presses her hand against the clasp, and you know what she’s asking.
Yes, please.
Great manners, she thinks, and you can feel the satisfaction in it.
Your lips part so that she can take your bra the rest of the way off, and she next kisses your neck, hot and heavy and wet kisses trailing down to your chest.
She feels pleasure blossom from every kiss and can’t help but smirk before she finally kisses one of your nipples, sucking on it and flicking her tongue and-
“Oh, fuck, Ellie, I- Ha, you- thank you, oh,” you whimper, squirming underneath her.
Sensitive, huh? I guess that’s to be expected, with the pollen and all. I wonder if she’d mind me writing a research article about this. Mm, so soft.
“You can do whatever you want as long as you keep doing that,” you tell her.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Ellie pulls away to say, and you whine. “Oh, right, just- Thoughts, y’know, that’s gotta be distracting.”
“You’re not my mindless sex slave,” you insist.
Would be if you asked, she flirts.
You can’t help but giggle at that, planting a kiss on her forehead.
She resumes her work, switching to your other breast while still stimulating the one she was before with her fingers. You grind yourself against her thigh.
Fuck, that’s so hot. I didn’t even know I was capable of being this happy, or horny, for that matter. Oh, she’s perfect. I knew she would be.
“Well, that’s a kink I didn’t know I had,” you breathe.
“What?”
“Praise kink.”
“Oh,” Ellie chuckles. “What, didn’t the others… think stuff…like… that?” Ellie’s question gets weaker as she feels… Feels that they didn’t. It was never as loving, it was just shallow, physical thoughts. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. We’re together now.”
“We are,” Ellie agrees. “It sucks that you got sick, but… I’m glad this is working out for the best.”
For now, that scared little part of you speaks up.
Ellie’s kisses trail down, but she stops once she feels a different concern.
“I don’t care if you’re not totally bare down there; do I look like the kind of girl who is?”
“Fair enough,” you whisper, anxiety threatening to overwhelm you. She rests her head against your stomach, hugging you.
We don’t have to do this. We don’t. I can try and get you sedatives, or I can sleep over at Yukio’s or Wade’s and let you deal with this on your own. But I want to, if you want to. We can still be together either way, or if you don’t want to be together, we can just try and forget about this. It’s really up to you.
“I want to,” you reply. “I just- I really like you, and I don’t want you to stop liking me because of this.”
“Okay. I feel pretty confident that I’m gonna feel the same way about you that I did before, it’s already getting stronger. I like knowing what’s going on in your head. I like that you know what’s going on in mine. Makes the whole communication thing a million times easier, which is good, ‘cause I kinda suck at it most of the time.”
“Okay.”
I’m literally about to burst, please, oh, please, can we get back to it?
Ellie can’t help but grin.
“Yeah, yeah, of course.”
She pulls your bottoms and underwear down in one clunky motion, you’re not really sure if your shimmying is helping or not. She props your legs open and you can’t help but cover your face, especially as her filthy and lovestruck thoughts seep into your skin. You’re blushing so hard right now, you can feel it.
“You’re- You know what I think,” Ellie murmurs. “Do you still want…?”
You nod fervently, and she chuckles. She inches down and gives a few experimental licks and kisses, humming with delight as you shudder and whimper. She finds her niche flicking her tongue against your clit at a rapid pace.
She tastes amazing, fuck. I just need to make her feel good, she thinks. You’re done for.
You shake underneath her, she’s like a force of nature. There’s no fighting, there’s not even a way to help. You just lay there and take it, tangling your hands in the sheets. She moves them to her hair, and you twist your fingers in it, squeezing more than you ever actually pull it. You’d hate to accidentally hurt her.
“F-Fuck, Ellie, I…” She’s doing the absolute most, or so you thought. She slides a couple fingers inside and curls them. You’re damn near sobbing, you’re so sensitive already and then she just… You pitifully whimper and whine as you get closer and closer. “I- I-”
She hums with satisfaction, continuing to flick and swirl her tongue furiously until you finish. And now, you’ll see how she takes it.
“Whoa,” she breathes after working you through your orgasm. “That was…” She smiles.
“What?” you blurt. She’s still smiling. She’s smiling?! “What did you see?”
“I mean, first of all, you weren’t kidding when you said wait ‘til we climax. Second of all… It was you. It was like your mind just completely opened up and sucked me in. I don’t see how anyone wouldn’t love that. To see all of it, to know you so much better. Maybe they were just intimidated.”
“Maybe don’t include that part in your paper.”
She grabs your hand, pressing it against her cheek.
“Your turn. It’s okay. Whatever you want to know or see, it’s yours. It’s only fair.”
You accept her offer. She has a loving family but constantly feels overshadowed by her older sister. Her first pet was a middle-aged corn snake – her cousin moved away for college when she was ten and entrusted her with its care. It died on her fifteenth birthday and while its lifespan was normal, maybe even exceptionally long, she’s never really had a good birthday since.
Her first crush was a girl with red hair and freckles for days. Her first love was Yukio, though she regrets never really showing it the way she should’ve when they dated. She doesn’t want to make the same mistakes with you.
You find her mental list of your favorite things, playing through the memories of her hearing you say they were your favorite or of her simply observing the choices you make. You start taking note of her own favorite things that you haven’t discovered yet. You dig through her kinks and fantasies a little, not surprised at what you find.
You continue to gently explore her mind, creeping down dark hallways of fear and depression and anger; traipsing through meadows of her most pleasant memories, a surprising amount of them with you.
You slip back out, and she smiles nervously.
“So…” she starts, but doesn’t know how to continue.
“So,” you reply, smiling with her. “That was nice. A lot more peaceful than I was expecting, not gonna lie.”
Ellie chuckles at that, and you get off the bed, legs wobbly but still functional enough for you to open the closet and grab the drawstring bag tucked in the back.
You place it on the bed.
“Take your pick, it’s all good,” you tell her, but she’s still stunned at the fact that you knew where it was. “Doesn’t freak you out too much, does it?”
“I’m just surprised you went there.”
“Didn’t you?” you ask.
“Yeah, but- But you’re- I guess what I’m really saying is that I’m still surprised you’re attracted to me, I didn’t think I’d be your type.”
“You didn’t?”
“Well, I guess- I mean, those people you dated, I never saw them, so I didn’t have anyone to really compare myself to in terms of what you might like.”
“I like you.”
“I like you, too,” she replies with a chuckle. “Are you still-”
“Yes, yes, dear god, yes,” you quickly reply. You weren’t gonna say anything as you’re glad to be having this talk, but the pain, the hunger has slowly built back up. “How long do you think this is gonna last?”
Ellie fishes through her bag, pulling out the one you were hoping for and spraying it down with a specialized cleaner before carefully wiping it off with a tissue. She attaches it to a harness before shucking her jeans and putting on the harness with surprising grace and speed.
“I don’t know, but I’m here. As long as you want me.”
You kiss her, tangling your hands in her hair. Her hands rest on your thighs, asking permission without opening her mouth. You part from the kiss to nod before resuming. She slides two fingers in, pumping them and reveling in the way you twitch and squirm with sensitivity. She pulls them out; you pout. She can’t hold back a smirk as she tastes you on her fingers, using her other hand to carefully line herself up with your entrance.
Ellie eases in, torturously slow. You wrap your legs around her and plunge the toy the rest of the way in.
“Needy, are we?”
“You already know that,” you pitifully whimper, and her cocky expression fades into one of sympathy.
“Would it be better if you got on top? So you can set the pace?”
“Maybe later, if you get tired.” For now, I just want you to pound me until I can’t take it anymore and then some.
A chill of excitement rolls down Ellie’s spine.
Is that so?
You nod, rocking your hips. She snatches them, and you still. She feels the way your stomach does a flip like you’re at the top of a rollercoaster; that brief thrilling moment just before racing down the track.
She hopes she makes you scream, too.
“Can’t do that if you don’t fucking move,” you remark, getting even more impatient. Under normal circumstances, that would earn you bondage and maybe even a smack somewhere, but Ellie knows you literally need her to fuck you as the effects of the pollen grow stronger. You may have made the remark about her not being a mindless sex slave, but she wouldn’t be surprised if you were by the end of this.
Gladly.
That makes her blush, before she finally gets to work. She warms up with a steady pace, but the thrusts quickly become savage, almost clumsy with how fast and hard she’s going. Every time she hits that spot, you gasp or moan or whine or whimper, nails digging into her shoulders, her back, whatever you can get your hands on as you cling for dear life.
You get close once more, fairly quickly, but you need a little more. What you don’t need are spoken words, though. Ellie reaches for her bag and fishes out a wand, wetting the head of it with her mouth before handing it to you. The feeling of desperate gratitude flows from you to her through every inch of touching skin, and she grins, smooching your forehead.
The hum of the vibrator is simply white noise compared to the symphony of sounds the two of you are making. Ellie already enjoys topping damn near enough to finish untouched, but feeling echoes of your pleasure only intensifies it.
You cover your mouth as your eyes tear up and clench shut, but she tears the hand off, pinning it to the bed.
“It’s embarrassing,” you whine.
“What is? That you’re enjoying this?”
You pant, unable to get the words out of your mouth, but she knows what you’re saying. She returns her hand to your hip, letting yours free.
No, not that, just… I’m being so fucking loud and shrill and my face looks so-
You know I don’t think that, she cuts off your negative thoughts. You’ll have to work on that together in the future. If you don’t believe her thoughts, maybe she’ll have to show you. Wouldn’t that be something? You reverse cowgirl in front of a mirror with her hand on your throat and another on your hip while she rocks up into you? You’d blush so much, it’d be so cute. And you wouldn’t be able to look away, she’d grab you by your cheeks and show you just how fucking sexy you are when you-
The grip of your legs tightens around her, forcing her as deep as she can go while you unravel on that synthetic extension of her, sobbing with sensitivity. You’ve lost control again and Ellie’s right there with you, gasping and swearing and surely leaving bruises on your hips with how tightly she’s gripping them.
“Oh, please don’t stop,” you beg.
“Gotta loosen your legs a little, babe,” she reminds you, and you immediately do, a stunned expression on your face that confuses her.
“You called me babe,” you coo.
“I’m literally inside you,” she replies with a scoff, cheeks heating up even more at how ridiculously adorable you are. “One more round like that and then you’re gonna have to ride me.”
“Fine by me.”
Ellie resumes her motions from before, but this time you’re not as interactive, you can barely hold the vibrator in place, let alone do anything else. She’s fucking the life out of you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
She grins at that thought, taking a pause to kiss you again.
Perfect, oh, so perfect. And all mine.
She returns to her merciless pace, now grabbing your hips and dragging them down to meet her motions sooner. Your whole body ripples, chest bouncing up and down as she slams inside you, your moans punctuating every thrust.
“C- C-” you pant, “Cl- Clo…”
Ellie shushes you comfortingly, not wanting you to waste your energy.
“I- Ha, I, Oh… Oh, please, Ellie, I-” your breath catches in your throat.
“I know, baby, I know. It’s okay,” she reassures you.
You keep panting, taking all she has to offer as loving and lustful thoughts flow back and forth between you. You hit that perfect peak with a sob of pleasure, and Ellie becomes weaker as she tries to work you both through it. Oh, that won’t do.
Words aren’t necessary. She pulls out, and the emptiness is soul-crushing. The issue is quickly resolved by readjusting your positions as planned, fuck, it feels so much bigger like this.
She caresses your thighs, her thoughts jumbled to the point where they’re not even words anymore, just feelings of desire and satisfaction and gratitude and admiration and…
Love.
Love, all-encompassing, stronger than anything you’ve ever experienced.
“Wow,” you sigh.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Ellie says softly.
“I hate to rush things, this is- It’s important, y’know? Pretty clear where we stand after this, and- And I-”
“We can definitely have a do-over, if you want… But so far, we’re enjoying ourselves, and isn’t that what matters?”
“Yeah,” you whimper. “Let me just-“
“I’ve got it,” she says, taking the still-moving wand from your hand, which is trembling just as much. “Just take what you need, babe.”
She holds it in place for you as you rock your hips, finding that perfect angle and riding the waves. Somewhere in the haze you find her other hand and squeeze it as tightly as you’re clenching your eyes shut.
You continue that way; words don’t need to be exchanged, just uncontrollable moans and thoughts that are sweet, dirty, or both as orgasm after orgasm washes over you. You’re drowning.
You’re exhausted and overstimulated, but fuck, you need it. You need it so bad.
Suddenly, though, Ellie snatches your hips, forcing you to still.
“Y/N. Y/N, breathe.”
“What?” you respond, panting. Oh, that’s right. That’s your name. You’d almost forgotten.
“Lay down,” she instructs you.
“But- But I…”
“You’re on the verge of passing out. Lay down, and breathe.”
“I need…”
“Lay on your side. I’ll take it from here, at least for a little while,” she insists. “I’ll stay inside you so we can sleep.”
You force yourself up and off of the strap, collapsing onto the bed in a curled-up ball of pain and sobs and need. There’s not enough words to describe how it feels to be so empty, the pain is like your heart’s been put in a blender both literally and metaphorically.
Ellie spoons you, reentering you as soon as she can get properly realigned.
You sigh in relief.
“Is that what you need the most, babe? For me to be inside you?”
“Yeah,” you pitifully reply.
“Then we’ll stay like this and try to get some rest.” She caresses the curve of your waist and it’s like you’re being gently electrocuted; tingling chills trickle out from every millimeter of touching skin. You shiver, and Ellie manages to get a blanket over the two of you, mostly using her feet. Normally, you’d get a good chuckle out of such antics. You’re too blissed out for it to even register, though. You were in a cold sweat before, and now you’re in a warm embrace with a blanket that feels softer than ever against your bare skin.
She’s still shaking. She needs water, but I can’t exactly leave. But who could come here? Maybe Yukio, but that’d be awkward, even if we’re friends now. Wade? Oh, fuck no.
“I’ll be alright,” you mumble.
“You almost fainted. You need something in you.”
“I already have something in me,” you reply, the most adorable mix of sleepy and smug as you teasingly rock your hips. Ellie scoffs.
“Fine. But as soon as this wears off-”
“I know,” you hum. “Let’s just sleep now. You’re- You’re a very good big spoon.”
“Thanks. Was there anything you didn’t like, aside from the obvious?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Anything you liked in particular?”
“Your thoughts were very sweet. And I like that you talked to me, y’know, communicated a lot and made sure I was okay.”
“That’s kind of the bare minimum.”
“I guess. What about you? Likes and dislikes?”
“Fuck, you’re… You’re perfect. That’s all I can really say.”
And with that, you two drift off.
You awaken to a pain that sweeps over your entire body, like thick needles piercing every pore straight down to the bone. You scream, but it’s not just physical torment.
She’s abandoned you. She doesn’t want you anymore; doesn’t wanna breed you, doesn’t wanna make you hers, doesn’t- You sob in pain, clawing at your burning, aching, itching skin as you writhe.
The door opens. New mate? Please let it be a new mate. You need to be filled. Need it.
“Shit, Y/N, I thought since you were asleep…” Ellie trails off, closing the door.
“It hurts, it hurts!” you wail, not really processing what she’s saying. You just need help.
“I’m sorry,” she says solemnly, finding the toy from before and cleaning it off, only bothering to take off her pants before putting the strap back on.
“Make it stop, please,” you beg.
“I’m trying,” she insists, but even as she lines herself up, you’re still sobbing inconsolably. She eases in but you’re still shaking, hot tears running down your face. “There we go. Can you drink this?”
She holds a reusable water bottle. You nod.
“Hurt so bad, thought you left me forever,” you whimper as she pushes the button to flip the straw up. She presses it against your trembling lips.
“I’d never,” she whispers. “Please drink.”
You finally take your first sip, and realize that your instincts regarding food and water must’ve been completely shut down until this moment. You take gulp after gulp until she pulls it away.
“You’re gonna make yourself sick,” she chides you, looking more concerned than ever.
“I- I-” you pant, but you’re not even sure what you’re trying to say. The pain is gone, but it lingers in the back of your mind, like a halo of misery hovering over your skin. She puts a hand on your shoulder, and you can’t help but project the feelings you’re feeling right now, a constant loop:
fuckmebreedmeownmebitemeclaimmeyoursyoursyoursneedyouneedyouneedyou
“I know,” she sighs. “I don’t… You’re too far gone right now. We can stay like this so you’re not in pain, but I don’t think we should do what we did yesterday. Your mind isn’t as clear as it was then.”
Not a worthy mate for her? Need it, need to be filled, maybe someone else will-
She thrusts, hard. It certainly gets your attention.
“Y/N, no. You’re- You’re worthy. You know I want you. Just not like this. Things were different yesterday, you were still… Lucid. This feels wrong. I don’t want you to regret anything we do together.”
You’re still teeming with feelings of perceived rejection, eyes blurry with tears.
“I’m your… Mate, right? That means I have to protect you, doesn’t it?”
You nod.
“Right now, I’m trying to protect you by not going any further than this. Reach out. Feel it.”
You obey, wrapping your hand around her arm. She’s right. Her intentions are pure. She does still care, it’s why she doesn’t want to do more.
“You look tired, still. I’m guessing you only woke up because of the pain. Let’s readjust so you can go back to sleep.”
Readjust? She’s not going to pull out again, is she? You couldn’t take that. You wrap your arms and legs around her tightly, keeping her in. She yelps in surprise before she sees your terrified expression and feels the waves of pure fear rushing out of you.
“Right. How about this? Let go. I won’t leave you empty again.” You loosen the grip of your legs and she holds the dildo in, pulling away. The suction cup resists, but eventually it’s forced out of the rubber ring on her harness. You nod, this is acceptable. You’d do anything to avoid the pain. “There we go.”
She smiles sadly, stroking your hair and the side of your face.
“You okay?” she asks. You nod again. “Can you talk?”
You open your mouth, but can’t seem to force even a simple yes from your vocal cords. Your throat doesn’t hurt, the blockage is purely mental. Everything you’re feeling right now, everything she’s feeling right now, it’s too much. You look at her woefully, shaking your head.
“That’s okay. Can you still communicate through touch?”
Your legs are still loosely looped around her. You can feel it all: her concern, her burning need to keep you safe, her fear that she’s doing the wrong thing, and, most importantly, her unwavering love for you.
You try to push some thoughts her way, but they’re still scrambled.
Safesafewarmsafeloveholdmesafelovewarmholdmesafe
“To an extent,” she says for you. “Got it.” She takes off the harness, pulling the covers over you both before pulling you into her arms. She was right, you’re exhausted.
You wish you could say something, thank her, tell her you love her. It’s just like when you were a kid, before you even knew what your abilities were. Every casual touch throughout the day was another tooth on the locked zipper your lips became. You were nonverbal more often than not, until you got here. You feel helpless.
“I didn’t know that,” she murmurs. “But don’t worry. I know the other stuff. You’re saying it just fine like this.”
You burrow into her embrace, still trembling.
“Just breathe. It’ll be okay.”
What if it never stops?
“It will. Just takes time. Oh, fuck, when’s the last time you used the restroom?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, helping you make your way to it on jelly legs.
“Let me know when you’re done and I’ll help you back into bed.”
You grab her wrist.
Can’t pull it out myself, can’t do it, it’s gonna hurt too much.
“Right. I’ll pull it out, and I’ll be right here waiting when you’re done. On the count of three, okay? 1, 2…”
You can’t help but screech. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, why wouldn’t you scream? It sounds louder than it feels in your throat, and that's when you realize you’re still holding onto her wrist. She’s screaming, too.
You rip your hand away and rush through the business you need to take care of as fast as you can, washing your hands and returning to her, though you collapse at her feet, shaking and sobbing.
She puts the toy back inside of you, but it’s not enough this time. You need to be bred. This alleviates the pain for the most part, but you’re filled with an indescribable tension and you know that any second, the burning ache will sweep its way over you again.
She helps you back into bed, but you still tremble. You’re entangled with her in more ways than one, and she sighs as she feels your fears, your need.
“I’ll move it for you, how about that?” she asks. You nod, and she reaches a hand down, sliding the toy up and down — never fully out, but just enough for you to feel it. That’s better. You sigh in relief, relaxing into her. “There we go. You’re gonna be just fine. Go back to sleep.”
I’m sorry I hurt you.
“It’s okay. It was an accident.” But you can feel a sickly sort of feeling inside of her.
I told you. I told you that it would ruin things. That it would repulse you. That I would.
“What are you talking about?”
I can feel it. Don’t try to lie to me, especially while you’re doing that.
Ellie watches the toy slide in and out of you at her hand, the way you quiver every time she bottoms out. It’s not just visual, she has a sixth sense, your sixth sense. Every little tremor sends a ripple of chills through her.
“You don’t repulse me. Your abilities don’t repulse me. I’m repulsed by myself. I shouldn’t have let it end up like this, I should’ve figured things out sooner. I’m not upset because I felt your pain in the way that you think I am.”
Things?
“The creature, your feelings, my feelings, what you’ve been through… What you’re going through now. I should’ve figured it all out before, it wouldn’t be like-”
Words are failing you again, but you do your best to project comfort to her. It’s really not so bad overall. Everything feels good, as long as she doesn’t stop. Most superhero couples don’t end up together in ideal ways. At least you two got to have mind-blowing sex.
Ellie snickers.
“Okay. If you’re sure. Now, sleep, alright? I’ve got you.”
And so you do.
You wake up in a hospital bed under a thin blanket, wrapped in Ellie’s fluffy black robe.
How’d you get here? You try to remember, but the last thing you do is being encircled by Ellie, and she was- Oh, goodness. You blush, remembering every filthy thing you said and did.
The blush is even deeper as the more romantic memories roll in. Maybe there were some complications with the pollen, were you sick? Oh, gross, you were probably gushing snot in your sleep and she rushed you here, worried you’d suffocate!
“You’re awake! How are you?” a friendly-looking man who’s probably several years older than you— but still has a somewhat youthful appearance —asks.
“Where’s Ellie?” you ask instead of answering. Does she regret it? Oh, she does, doesn’t she? You knew it.
He smiles knowingly.
“I finally convinced her to go take a shower, so, of course, you immediately woke up. She’ll be back soon.”
“Um, who are you?”
“I’m Peter, I’m one of Ellie’s coworkers. Technically her supervisor, but, eh…”
“Oh, Dr. Parker! I’ve heard of you. Good things. Uh, sorry, I’m sure Ellie would tell me if she was here, but… What happened?”
“Right! You weren’t waking up, and while Xavier’s has a pretty good medical center, there weren’t any biochemistry experts to consult… So, Ellie called me and I told her to bring you here. After a little bit of field research, we found that the creature whose pollen you inhaled quite a bit of hibernates directly after mating season. Do your sinuses hurt? We flushed them to see if that would help.”
You shake your head.
“Good, that’s good. Still… Hurting?”
Your blush returns, and you shake your head with a bit more enthusiasm. He laughs.
“Good! Ope!” He tilts his head, and you’re confused until you finally start to hear her footsteps, too. The door opens.
Ellie’s eyes widen at the sight of you conscious.
“You know what they say about watched pots never boiling. Text me if you two need anything, Ellie.”
And with that, Dr. Parker steps out.
“How are you? Do you feel okay?”
“Given that I’m not writhing in agony and I can talk again, I’d say I’m okay. How are you?”
She stammers, before clutching your hand with great urgency. She stares down at both of her hands encircling yours.
What if it was the pollen talking and she doesn’t really like me? What if she did like me before but feels used now? What if she’s lying about being okay so I won’t worry? I hope she wasn’t scared when she woke up. What if-
“Anxious,” you observe. “I do like you. I don’t feel used, and I hope you don’t either. I’m really okay. When I woke up, I was just confused. I recognized your robe, so I knew I was okay.”
She recognized my robe, so she knew she was okay. She trusts me that much?
Of course I do.
She looks up at you, positively beaming.
“I’m- I’m really happy you’re okay. I think they’ll wanna check your vitals and stuff, but we should be good to go home after that, okay?”
“Okay,” you reply.
“Er… I know this isn’t really the right order of things, but you said before… I- Do you still want…?”
Pleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriend!
You laugh, and Ellie realizes you’re still holding hands. Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush as she snatches her hands away, crossing her arms and looking adorably shy.
“Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
#negasonic teenage warhead#ellie phimister#negasonic teenage warhead x reader#ellie phimister x reader#ellie phimister imagine#wlw x reader#sapphic x reader#wlw imagine#sapphic imagine#x men imagine#x men x reader
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Though in think tank:
It's just the two of us (three actually, its a tricycle now)
harringroveson, metalsandwhich
just the two of them wanting the same guy and finding each other
while said guy is trying to be filling. they're having the feels and steve is horny. he's fine though. I'll decide if I can keep this going. they will fuck nasty. in like, the next parts.
Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson are hooking up. They've got a good thing going on.
They're into each other, they have stuff in common, be it music, the fashion, their preferences. They're fast and quick. Furious and sharp, all teeth when they're together. Get a thrill and kind of comfort with how consistent and similar they could be. They bounce off and work each other to heights. It feels like it's only the two of them, like steel sharpening steel. In this small hick town.
Billy's always felt a lot, even more now he's stuck here. Always ran hot now he's stuck in a chilly, dreary town, used to feel like he could breathe slow and easy out there but not when he's stuck here. And with Eddie. Well, Eddie always wanted more, knows he's made for more. He's flagging half-heartedly in a small town, and now Billy has to tuck himself in. They both always feel bigger on the inside. No one is like them. Not in the way they know.
No one else feels jagged or rough. Neither Eddie nor Billy know anyone who can stop the itch, the aches in their jaw, the tightness.
Enter Steve Harrington. Just, not really.
Now, Steve seemed exactly nothing like either of them. Yes, he's masculine. A man. But he's not.. like them. Not dark or sharp, probably not what either of them would experience, probably doesn't feel like a whirlwind in his body, doesn't scratch. But it doesn't stop either of them from ogling. Shooting the shit with each other, letting out comments and thoughts on guys the've seen. And even if Harrington was open, or experimenting, or anything that would lead preppy jocks astray, he probably wouldn't be any good. Wouldn't be fun, no matter how pretty. No matter how soft.
Billy and Eddie's standards on the anyone in Hawkins, any man they might think of in the sense they'd think of each other. None for now, just them. Clocked each other so fast and collided with each other like a car crash. But both can agree, yeah. Steve's hot.
Billy's been knowing about it, having been hanging out with Steve. Knowing who he is, mostly on the court. Gets a kind of satisfaction being able to push this boy around.
And Eddie, who's there with his comments as they talk, will also have assumptions. He's known the guy longer. (If he ever really knew him. What more do you need when everyone else knows some.)
"Bill, he's just the usual, man." He takes a drag out of his cigarette, leaning on the side of his van. "Harrington. He's just a dude. I mean we're in Hawkins. Pretty boys like him got to be repressed. One way or another."
He scoffs, turning his head to him, eyebrows raised and hands waving vaguely in front of him, "have you seen him with Tommy? Before you came around those two were—" he puts up a tight fist and shakes it, like it would mean something. "Y'know? Tommy boy's been trailing after him since eighth grade."
Billy let's out a sharp laugh, stealing Eddie's cigarette, "calling me a homewrecker, Munson?"
"Is it homewrecking when you 'wreck' both parties? You ensnare Tommy away from the King and then you come round to have a chat with Harrington in the showers?" He let's Billy have the cigarette, crossing his arms as he leans in closer, "which, what was that about?"
(Eddie's been in this town, longer than the fresh meat Billy was supposed to be. Has seen the King parading around, stuck in his own little world. Head up in the clouds and not bothering to look down and check if his feet were even touching the ground. Til '83 that is.
It was weird. After Nancy Wheeler, sometime in November with all of them being gone for a while after two people go missing —one was Byers' little brother he remembers, he wasn't sure who the other one was, a girl?—only to come back with Wheeler on Jonathan Byers side of all places. Sweet and looking at each other like they've found someone who understands. Found someone who knows life outside. As if they knew there'd be more out there.
And Steve. Steve looked settled. Looked normal and still moving even when he looked at either of them, the couple. Like he knows he's small in this stupid town but doesn't feel tight in his own skin. That even though he hasn't found anyone like that, and even lost something he's still fine. That he's seen more and knows better even when he stood still. He's found out about the same things Byers and Wheeler had. Went through the motions. Was just waiting for a pin drop to be able to live. It fascinated, Eddie. He envied it. He scoffs in his mind, what would Steve Harrington know?
Will he ever get to know? The boy and the why?)
Billy rolls his eyes, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out, dropping it on the concrete for hi to stomp, "fucking nothing, Edward."
Not nothing. He heard Eddie and his 'normal dude' rant. But he can't fool Billy. He knows the guy saw the same thing in Harrington he did. He was different and radiant in this stupid town while also fitting in perfectly. He was fucking lame and didn't know a single thing. But. He also knew some things. Makes it seem like the things he knows were life altering
Harrington was an enigma. A person with thoughts and feelings and in some kind of state. He was your average fucking prep. Image obsessed, vain, and so impossibly normal. And a flea who only knows the jar can't jump over the cap. But Steve. It's like he doesn't care. He doesn't know why he only knows this side of The King's rebrand. How he only knows one side to the story. How he knows Tommy and his weird obsession with Steve and how he left, and turned fucking bitch. Acted like he was now bottom of the barrel. But the King (although Billy has a feeling he isn't one anymore) is fine. Acted like dropping his nuclear friend group and demographic was nothing. Which in the grand scheme of things, maybe it wasn't. But it's supposed to be something, to boys like Steve Harrington. He doesn't know why he cares.
"Ouuh, fucking nothing, Edward, blah blah. Also, don't call me that." He huffs. "You're not the only one thirsting, William. Everyone wants, envies, covets at a piece of Steve Harrington. But again, he's just a dude. Hell, I had the hots for him too. Besides," he knocks shoulders with Hargrove, finger going up to flick at his piercing then to loop around a blonde curl.
"Ya got me right now."
Billy looks at him with considering gaze, before smirking. He straightens up off the van, "you wish, freak." He goes round to the back of the van, opening it up, before crawling in.
Eddie grins, scampering off after him. He pushes the both of them obssesed with Steve Harrington bit away from his mind. He's hanging with Billy.
Steve frowns a bit as he sees both men hop into the back of Munson's van. He was just passing by the parking lot. He sighs, scratching his head. He needs to go to another fucking bar. His nightmares are acting up again. Who knew the eerie light of the pool and his own house lights would make him twitch? What a life. He's okay though, pretty sure.
He smiles as he hops in the car. A night in Indy will fix him up. Surely. It always does. (And although Nancy –and Jonathan suprisingly– were worried, he assures them both as sweetly as he could that it was definitely not alcoholism. It's either more or less better than they expected. But he's glad his new friends slash two wheels he third wheels slash co-monster fighters were worried.)
As he drives off, he takes a glance at the rear view mirror, before shaking his head. Why would they hook up out in the open, in that back of the guy's van in a parking lot? Sure they could be hotboxing or some shit and smoking the weed in that dweeb Munson's lunchbox but Steve doubts that. With how hot the both of then are and how intensely they were looking at each other they were for sure fucking. He thought at least Hargrove would know better.
"Shame, shame," he shrugs, even though no one can see him, his expression set in 'it is what it is.' He wonders what he should wear and what he should order. He licks his lips and hums happily. He gets to feel alive for the weekend.
#harringrove#steddie#mungrove#harringroveson#stranger things fanfic idea#stranger things au#i just want metal sandwhich#also#metalsandwich#just these two dudes being with each other thinking about that one guy they're weirdly obsessed with#then thinking they're the only two people who would understand each other i a way that would soothe them#and genuinely thinking that this perfect man might fix them when they know they dont have chance#said 'normal guy' has experienced horrors and in this au: thought breaking up w his gf and sucking dick would fix the aforementioned horror#now at least he's figured himself out#im talking about steve btw#while these two metalheads are lamenting and confiding each other in a battle kf longing and companionship#steve lowkey highkey wanna bang#steve 'im just a dude' harrington#the think tank writing#charl's got thoughts#steddie fanfiction
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I'll be posting this to ao3 ltr when i have a good title in the works. Pls do lmk if you have any suggestions as i mull it over,
...
fuck i didn't think of a summary either UHHHHH
Summary:
It's a simple enough backstory. It followed the formula you'd expect from most prodigies pre-Supernova. Experience a traumatic event, survive, get your powers, and the rest is history. How all the heroes in this damned city advertise their origins. Like a comic book. A cheesy, edgy, comic book. At least some prodigies have the common sense to keep their melodrama to themselves. Magpie did.
Or: I gave Maggie another internal monologue that MM loves to write her renegades trilogy characters doing, 1) cuz its fun 2) I have a lot of hcs I want to get out and have no idea how Maggie would tell this to other characters in a one shot
I'll write the longer fic ltr ITS TIME FOR MAGGIE MONOLOGUE
word count: roughly 1500
If she was good at anything, it was surviving. Her bullet was proof of that.
Proof of a day she couldn't remember, but still existed. Had to exist.
A day defining her every waking moment, every breath. A day providing the reason for the smallest scar just by her hairline.
It's a simple enough backstory. It followed the formula you'd expect from most prodigies pre-Supernova. Experience a traumatic event, survive, get your powers, and the rest is history. How all the heroes in this damned city advertise their origins. Like a comic book. A cheesy, edgy, comic book. At least some prodigies have the common sense to keep their melodrama to themselves. Magpie did.
Who would she even tell? Who would even care? No one did before. It took her years to realize no one gave a shit about her case. From the Renegades’ messy crime scene analysis to the witnesses of her miraculous survival.
No double-checking for survivors. For her. They just gave up. And certainly no one could be bothered to alert the Renegades of their error when she was found.
She supposed the latter made sense, given it was still the Age of Anarchy at the time. Everyone had enough on their plates at the time. One more orphaned kid wasn't special. And never would be. Those tragedies tend to lose their effect on people’s hearts after enough of them.
Sometimes, depending on the day, her heart ached a little more in her chest to think about her sister. The occasional query, the itch she couldn't scratch, wondering what happened. If she was out there wondering about her too. Wanting her when no one else did.
Maggie never liked to entertain those thoughts for very long. They didn’t change anything. Her sister either ran away or got herself kidnapped, and neither fate spelled good things for her. Even if it was once a nice thought; the idea her sister beat those odds and was coming to get her. Especially during hard nights at the orphanage.
When a roomie couldn’t get their powers under control to let her sleep, or when another kid got in trouble and was yelled at for an hour after dinner. The orphanage would get flooded and someone would be there to hug her and tell her she doesn't need to be there any longer.
The idea that someone (anyone really, she wasn’t picky) was gonna come and break her out. A perfect rescue. Her fabled happily ever after. It didn’t lose its appeal. A pitiful, sweet lie.
A lie regardless.
As appealing as it was, she never went long without another foster family reminding her of the truth. Harder to believe more and more after each family that passed through the creaking doors of the shitty building’s structure. Each potential foster was usually already hesitant to accept a prodigy, but a prodigy thief?
One that could steal your jewelry and family heirlooms and run away to pawn it off who knows where? If you even had any left after the Age of Anarchy. Her odds were never great. Even the rare bleeding hearts that just loved to find “fixer uppers” were dissuaded. Her file only spelled trouble.
Even if trouble was a kid willing to do anything for a family, in Maggie’s humble opinion. Trouble was a kid with a treasure trove of hidden gifts she had collected over the years for the longest time, to give to her future home. A thank you for the service of accepting her. Let me gift you this part of me! Even if said “part of her” was a pearl necklace from the shop across the street.
She liked pearls.
Not that she could ever be dissuaded from stealing. Adding to her collection, she preferred to call it. The scoldings she received did nothing to change her mind, even if they each were another mark on her file. “Stealing is bad” isn't a very compelling reason to change for a preschooler, it turns out. And they were easy to ignore anyway, especially after the third. Only serving to inform how she got caught. How to do better. The occasional addition of a time out for her punishment didn’t help.
Hell, even if they did, there were almost always more important kids to pay attention to than the telekinetic. You wouldn’t want the pyromaniac to burn down the building! Or leave the infant amphibian alone for long enough to poison dinner. For the third time. The ones who couldn’t control their crazy powers yet.
They also didn't tend to be very popular choices with foster families, but Maggie could hardly feel sorry for them. Everyone in the orphanage knew ever since they could walk the Renegades were always looking for more recruits. Keeping a keen eye on the kids with potential, growing up in their own institution. If one could call such a wreck an “institution”.
And becoming one of the renegades, while not ideal, was the best escape you could get. It was for her. Even if she traded chores at the Children’s Home for chores at Renegades HQ. They, of course, loooovved her powers for clean up duty.
It paid. That kept her there. So it wasn't all bad, even if it felt like it most days. They had also attempted to get her a family but Maggie knew from the start it wasn't happening. They let her join regardless. She ran away and pawned off her collection, no point in keeping it any longer, all before her first day.
And she never went back. She never needed to, even after the Renegades found out she wasn't staying with them. She was never prodded about where she lived if not the orphanage, and they didn't need to know. It was a good enough building close by, that's all that mattered.
She remembered squeezing the bullet so tightly after finding the building, checking for any weak points nearby. She can do this. She'll be okay. She's a survivor. Mantras on repeat in her head, the bullet tight in her hand for good luck.
She knew it wouldn't be the same as it was at the children's home. Leaving meant leaving behind a part of herself forever. And she did anyway.
If the day she got her powers wasn't her first death, then the day she ran away was.
She's a survivor, she knows that much. Yet more often than not, parts of herself died over the years. Her original identity died. Whatever her name used to be, she's gone. And Margaret White survived. She survived with such foolish hope that she could ever get any semblance of a normal home. A life she should have gotten.
She would never get it. That was fine. She ran away.
Margaret White became Magpie, one of the youngest Renegades to join at barely 10 years old. She never held back her displeasure with the Renegades, all of them hypocrites. She stole for only herself, until she didn’t. And made the same mistake. Having hope. Hope that things could get better, hope that even if the Renegades were shit at their jobs, the means would justify the ends. Hope that she could do something.
And he believed in her. That annoying, cheesy nerd he… he never should have…
She gave him that helmet.
She really did think it would change anything.
And now he's dead.
And Magpie is too.
Rotting in that stadium falling apart around her, sinking into the ground as the world continued on and rebuilt without her. The coward stuck behind those stands speckled with blood, a messy paint job. Unable to look, unable to move. Died frozen in place, stiff with the endless rounds of tears burning her eyes.
Her worst nightmares brought her to that place. Where she died. Where she murdered him.
Well, she didn't technically. But it felt like it. The pit in her gut didn't change to know she wasn't the one holding the scythe.
The fault laid between her and Nightmare. Nightmare… Nova, who dared to proclaim herself as a hero now. Dared to move on. Her corpse should have laid there with him. With Magpie.
Whatever hope Maggie had left in the Renegades died that day. Any faith in their message, rotten. Not everyone can be a hero, some just aren't built for it. Relying on others, trusting others, gets you killed. She should have known better.
That day, she peeled away from the spot Magpie's breaths stopped, and told herself she would know better now. She'll be better. She doesn't need anyone. She never did. Gripping the bullet tightly in her palm, that's what she told herself as she took shaky steps to the remains of the exit. She would survive, even when everyone else died from their foolishness.
Some people aren't cut out to be heroes, even if they tried.
Some people were meant to prosper at others expense.
Some people lived, even when others died.
They died, they lost, and Maggots like her needed to be okay with that. Their loss meant her benefit. She won’t let the inverse happen.
Some people are villains, and always were always meant to be.
-
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im so indecisive aaaaAAAAA
i also would uper appreciate it if voters explained why they picked what, it'll help a lot with deciding
#poll at the end!#help mee#giving you the biggest fucking eyes HELP ME NAME THIS THING#AT THE VERY LEAST i can say i probably will use these other titles for other fics for maggie#at some other point#god i have to like#I am starting to lean toward the first option not working for this fic#but i NEED to make a fic for maggie that fits that#renegades trilogy#the renegades trilogy#renegades fandom#my art#fanart#MDN art tag#renegades fanart#maggie white#evie artino#tala artino#david artino#callum treadwell#fanfiction#renegades trilogy fanfiction#my writing
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Pastry- Jungwon x Fem! Reader
a/n: HELLLLP WHAT IS WRONG W ME. another comfort fic 😨 this is moreso inspired by this post! when i was sad an old friend tried to get at me lolz ITS NOT LOLZ ITS ACTUALLY REALLY UPSETTING BUT ILL GET OVER IT !
MASTERLIST
wc- 750???? again half of this was written on phone so idk
warnings- insecurities, reader gets objectified, jungwon reassures her she’s much more than what she thinks people see her as. i’m sorry to anyone who has ever felt like this. i assure you, you’re more than that, and the person who made you feel like this- isn’t worth shit.
song- what was i made for by billie eilish
You sat on your couch with your head in your hands, you had just finished texting an old friend. The thought of texting an old friend previously made you so giddy. However, you quickly found their one motive to talk to you. You felt so grossed out and used in a sense. Of course, you didn’t give them anything, but that fact didn’t make that painful feeling go away. You think what hurt the most was that you didn’t expect that from them.
Immediately trying to get at you; offended you, as it would offend most people. You took a deep breath and laid down on your side. You tried to close your eyes to make the feeling go away. When you felt someone looking at you, you opened your eyes.
You saw Jungwon staring at you from the floor, he was leaning on the couch and all you could see was his cat-like eyes. His eyes gave you enough of a clue that he was confused at your state. You sighed and rolled on your back.
“Do you think people just think I’m pretty?”
Jungwon made a noise before standing up to look over you, “what do you mean?”
You sighed and rolled back on your side, Jungwon followed your lead and went back to leaning on the couch looking at you.
“I feel like I am just an object.”
Jungwon felt his fist clench a bit, “who made you feel like this?” He never failed to get upset when you were mistreated by someone. Jungwon couldn’t put you in a bubble and protect you from all harm though, this is life and shit happens sometimes. He’s just lucky enough to be in your circle.
You looked away from him, itching your hands like you had a plague, “I don’t know…”
“Y/n… You are a horrible liar.” Jungwon deadpanned and grabbed your hands softly to stop them from scratching.
“That old friend I was telling you about.” You mumbled, Jungwon’s grip tightened.
“The one you were excited about?”
You nodded and you felt your tears well up, “I feel gross, so gross, I don’t know why I even thought that they would want to talk to me again for any other reason. I feel like a stupid obje-“
“Y/n…” Jungwon got up and sat next to you, you sat up and leaned on him. Your hair was a mess, and your hoodie and shorts were disheveled. You felt as bad as you looked.
“They are stupid for objectifying you.” Jungwon started, his thumb rubbing your palm, “you are so much more than a pretty face, you have brains, you are really funny, and you have a dorky personality. You aren’t just pretty; you are so much more than that.” His voice was quiet, he didn’t want to raise it in fear you would just keep getting upset, “if they are stupid enough to make you feel like this, like an inanimate object, they are so stupid.”
“Thank you…” You mumbled and leaned your head on his shoulder, “I’m just tired of this… I don’t think people like me for me I feel like they just want to get something- anything- out of me. I’m so tired of it…”
“I know… I wish I could take that feeling away and give it to myself so you don’t have to feel like this anymore…” Jungwon looked down at your guys’ hands. He truly did want to take this feeling away from you and give it to himself. He’d rather deal with it for you. He didn’t want you to feel this way anymore.
You watched as he rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand, “I’m sorry you have to hear about me moping around…”
“No don’t be sorry… I want you to talk to me when you feel like this… Talk to me so I can listen and help…” Jungwon felt like he was made to help people, including you.
“Thank you Wonnie…”
He smiled softly at you, “are you hungry or want water or anything?”
“Can we get tea? Or a pastry?” You rubbed your eyes. Jungwon helped you.
“We can get as many pastries and cups of tea as you want.”
#jungwon x reader#yang jungwon imagines#jungwon imagines#yang jungwon x reader#yang jungwon#jungwon fluff#enha jungwon#jungwon enhypen#enhypen jungwon#jungwon#enhypen imagines#enha imagines#enhypen#enha#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enha fluff#kpop imagines#jungwon angst#enhypen comfort#enha comfort#jungwon comfort#heeseung#sunghoon#jay park#sunoo#nishimura riki#jake sim#enhypen sunoo#enhypen jake
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In the Shadow of Memories
Anyway, ao3 is down and my computer is broken, so you guys get the fic here for the time being.
Tw: nothing much except isolation, and depression. But nothing like super bad. Nsft at the end and use of sex as a vice ig
Word count: 3,758
Summary:
Copia learns he doesn't have to be alone anymore.
Longing is something that he sometimes thinks he was born with. An itch that can't be scratched, save only for the sake that no one offers to scratch it. The longing of childhood – knowing that he never fits in no matter what. How he watched the other children as he was growing up, saw how their parents doted on them. How their siblings poked fun at them. It was something he never had, even though it was no further than arms length away.
He was seven when he slowly began to piece the pieces together.
Sister Imperator, though stern, seemed to show favoritism to him. It did nothing to help his social standings.
Then he'd overheard her speaking to Nihil. Talking about how their child was not shaping up to be everything he should be. Copia had wanted to scream at them, but it would draw attention to himself, and that didn't really bode well for eavesdropping.
Shortly after he'd tried to make connections with the elder three brothers.
Primo had seemed indifferent. Kind but indifferent.
Secondo had ignored him altogether, acting like he didn't even exist. Sometimes he didn't feel like he really did.
Terzo had – well Terzo had been his last hope. They were closer in age than the other two. Sure he was nearly fifteen years his senior, but it couldn't hurt to try, right? As a result of his hopefulness, Terzo had taken advantage of every situation, doing any and everything and leaving Copia to take the blame for. He was well aware Copia would never voice his own innocence.
By age ten, he'd been reprimanded more than any other child in the ministry for crimes he wasn't responsible for. Sister's irritation had grown and Papa Nihil’s hatred had taken a dark turn. Sometimes he shut the door in Copia's face, sent him on wild goose chases, it was all too much.
It shouldn't have been any surprise when a ghoul fetched him from his lessons one morning. Informed him his things had been packed and he would be set on a train to the airport. From there, he would make his way to Rome, where he would stay for the foreseeable future.
He'd wanted to ask. Why am I being sent away? I can be better. Where is Sister Imperator? Why wasn't she taking him to the airport?
But he already knew all the answers to those questions.
He was a bother. Cumbersome in a small bubble that held the Emeritus line, something that was already fragile enough without his unannounced parenthood.
Copia remembers trying to hold the large ghoul's hand as he stood in the airport. Wanting some sort of comfort, even if it was from someone sending him away. Instead, he'd been scolded. Told he should know better at his age.
He'd retracted his hand as if burnt and boarded the plane without so much as a hug, let alone a goodbye.
—
The years slowly bleed together as time continues its endless march.
Now at the young age of twenty-six, Copia has managed to become the youngest Cardinal in the church. He should be proud of himself, happy that he's accomplished something, but he's not. Being completely abandoned by one's family tends to have that sort of effect. Since his arrival here, Sister has sent not a single letter. He should know better but it doesn't sting any less.
“Are you listening?”
Cardinal Astra's voice draws Copia from his spiraling thoughts. “Huh?”
“Where do you go, piccolo ratto?”
Astra has been nothing but Hell sent from the day Copia arrived. The man had taken him under his wing and for a short while Copia got to truly experience what it felt like to have a figurative father. Even now, he still looks over Copia. He just wishes Astra's love could heal that continued hole inside himself. Maybe if he'd been his father instead of Nihil, maybe he wouldn't feel this way.
“I – I am sorry.” Anxious eyes travel downward to settle on the stone floor. He gets lost often, something everyone is accustomed to.
Cardinal Astra smiles softly. “Working hours are over. You are free to leave this cramped office and spend time with your friends.”
Friends. That word makes him nauseous. He's never had friends. He's had acquaintances but never friends.
“Ah – ehm – apologies.” Copia jumps up quickly, collecting his paperwork. “I will leave now. I –”
Astra grabs his wrist. “Copia, you do not need to hide yourself away. We are a congregation and we take care of each other, no?”
Copia nods, knowing he will not be doing that.
–
Copia grunts as his face is pushed further into the sheets. One eye squished shut. The other is trying to remain open despite the massive hand planted on his cheek. A brother of sin mounts him from behind, hips pounding into him like a jackhammer. He should feel something – anything, Copia knows this. Yet his cock hangs limp between his legs, swaying every now and then with each thrust. Copia knows he won't cum tonight. The brother of sin is a bit too harsh for his liking, but then again, Copia hasn't ever cum during these trysts at all to begin with.
A squeak escapes him as the brother thrusts at an uncomfortable angle. Unfortunately for Copia, the man takes it as encouragement and begins pistoning his hips in that motion until he finally cuts.
Copia clamps his eyes shut tight as what should be warmth from the cum inside him is slightly uncomfortable rather than pleasurable. The man pulls out with a grunt, flopping down beside him.
“Fuck that was good.”
Well, at least someone enjoyed it.
It's not like he agrees to these things because he necessarily wants them, rather than in times of desperation for other human touch he'll take a partner to bed. Sometimes he goes to their bed. It depends on his mood at the time.
He's also found himself preferring the brothers to the sisters. The brothers are easily able to over power his lithe frame, manhandle him in any way they want. Sometimes if Copia closes his eyes he can almost imagine it's a loving hug.
But it's not and it never will be.
Copia grunts as he tries to stretch his body out. The position having left him in a cramped state. He squeaks as a hard slap meets the meat of his ass.
“For a twitchy little guy, you sure are a good lay.”
It's a joke – or rather it should be, judging by the way the man laughs breathlessly.
Copia's barely had time to pull his face from the sheets before the brother is dressing and collecting his things. He says something, but honestly Copia doesn't bother to register it. He's leaving anyway. They always leave after.
–
He grabs the towel, drying off his hair and then his body. Then he steps out of the shower, discarding the towel.
Copia wipes the condensation from the bathroom mirror. He sees – honestly, he isn't sure what he sees looking back at him.
His reflection is tired. Even without the black eye makeup. His ribs poke out just a bit too much to be considered healthy. A tired sigh leaves his lips as his gaze settles on the bruises that decorate his whole body. It's a symbol that at least for a short while someone considered him something worthy of love. Even if it was just for a quick fuck.
Copia rubs his eyes before grabbing his robe and wrapping himself in the fluffy fabric. It grounds him. Gives him something to hold onto, to prove he's real.
He makes his way to his bedroom and lies on his back on the freshly changed sheets. He stares at the ceiling. Maybe tomorrow will be another day. A better one.
It won't be, but maybe he can hope.
–
The pen scratches against the paper as he signs off on another document. By now, he's more than positive that he could sign his own name with his eyes closed. That's not really something to be proud of, so to say. But there isn't really much to be proud of when it comes to him.
“You missed breakfast.”
Cardinal Astra stands in the doorway, tray in hand.
Copia knows how lethargic he must look when he glances up. “Mi dispiace. I have been working on this.” He motions to the paperwork.
Astra purses his lips. “You also missed lunch.”
Oh please, don't do this again. Please. Please. Please.
“And it seems that you also missed dinner last night. If the ghouls are to be believed.”
Copia tries to respond but he's shushed.
“We talked about this, Copia. It is unhealthy. You must eat.”
It's not that he doesn't want to eat, so much as what has he done to deserve it? Did he finish all his paperwork? Did he answer correctly when asked questions? Is he even worth keeping around?
It's easy for him to brush it off as forgetfulness. Oh, I was so busy I forgot to eat. Silly me! It doesn't work on anyone, but then again, does anyone even care? Well, besides Astra.
“Sì. Sì. I am well aware of that.”
Is he though? If he was he wouldn't be putting himself through all this emotional and physical turmoil.
“I just – just got distracted.”
Copia sees the look he receives. Distracted enough to still be able to take a brother of sin to your bed?
Copia wilts.
Astra heaves a sigh as he comes fully into the room, shutting the door behind him.
No. No. No. This is not good.
“I had planned to tell you this over dinner last night.” He heaves another sigh. “You are leaving the abbey by the end of the month.”
Leaving? His head is spinning a mile a minute. What has he fucked up now? Why's he never able to fucking do anything right? Why – “Be-because I missed a few meals?” Copia hates the way his voice cracks.
“No.” There's a pregnant pause and Copia finds himself spiraling even more. “Your mo – Sister Imperator, requests that you return to the main abbey.”
“What?”
Astra smooths the front of his cassock. “I have no say in the matter, piccolo ratto. If I did, you'd never have to leave this place.”
He doesn't want this. He wants to stay here, in Rome. He wants –
“Sometimes He gives us obstacles that he thinks will strengthen us. Even if they seem like punishments at the time.”
It's then that Copia finally breaks down. He's being sent away as a punishment yet again.
–
The Swedish abbey is larger than he remembers. It's colder – not a surprise, and more densely populated. Albeit polite, a majority of the siblings look at him with disdain. He's a high ranking newcomer, of course they would.
The first week had been odd. Imperator doted on him as if she were a loving mother finally seeing her son again. Only one of those things was true.
She'd ensured he knew where is office was. How far away his room was. How much paperwork he was to expect and it was expected to be done.
She'd even introduced him to a gaggle of ghouls. Saying that since he ranked so highly, he required protection. Something told him it was just so she could spy on him. Copia was already a nervous man, this did nothing to help ease the issue.
It was easy to fall into a quick routine. The paperwork is really no different than what he did in Rome. It's the one familiarity in this new foreign land.
Unlike his younger self, Copia makes no effort to engage his brothers. He already knows how those interactions will end. Him with an even more broken heart and the feeling of isolation strangling him.
It still confuses him how Sister acts. When he was younger, she never even gave him a glance. Now it's like he was some sort of prodigal son returned to his home.
It made his skin crawl.
–
Slowly, Copia begins to acquaint himself with the ghouls.
Cirrus and Cumulus, the two ghoulettes seem to welcome him with open arms. Cumulus is quick to always have a firm hand on his upper arm. She'll then flash him a smile and it leaves Copia at a loss that someone else he hardly knows is aware of how to calm him. Cirrus is always first to give praise. Good boy! Oh, Cardinal, you work so hard. Take a break. It makes his head swim and he feels like he's in a fog at sea.
It doesn't take long for him to piece together that ghoul packs are female dominant. After the two of them start treating him like one, Copia notes how the other ghouls begin following the same act.
Rain is quiet. Mostly communicating through chirps and trills. He's small, not the smallest, but it's clear he's the youngest. In no time, Copia finds himself with a lap full of ghoul anytime he's in the den. It's almost comforting.
Mountain is – large. So much so that Copia has to tilt his head back to even see the ghoul's face. Not only is he the largest ghoul Copia has ever seen, but he's also the most quiet. The ghoul hardly ever makes a sound.
Swiss is…well, Copia isn't sure how to feel about Swiss. He seems feral most of the time, stalking the rooms, looking for something or someone to get into. It makes Copia uneasy and he tries to avoid him at all costs.
Dewdrop is entirely unapproachable. The ghoul hisses and spits anytime Copia is even in the same room as him. His words are just as harsh as his bite. On more than several accounts, Copia has left the room feeling like he is the size of an ant.
Then there's Aether.
The ghoul is large. Not as large as Mountain, but he's stocky. Oftentimes when in his company, Copia finds himself wondering how those large arms would feel encircled around him. How Aether could easily manhandle him into whatever situation he wants. It sends a chill down his spine and it often ends with him in his room at night, cock in hand and working himself to completion.
It's a nice change from the typical absence of arousal he's felt. But it's also frightening. What does this say about him? That he's so desperate he's gone to fantasizing about ghouls – his ghouls. It's a new feeling he's unfamiliar with and it fills him with dread. It's bad enough his habit of taking partners to bed has followed him here, but if Imperator finds out he's having feelings – let alone relations with his ghouls, well…that could be disastrous.
–
“Cardinal?”
Aether's smooth voice settles in Copia's ears like a warm hug.
“Uh – please – ehm – call me C-Copia.”
His voice wavers and he knows he has to look just as miserable as he sounds.
“Copia.”
It ignites something inside the Cardinal. The way his name rolls off Aether's tongue like honey. He wants more. He wants to hear his name said like that for the rest of his days.
“It's lunch time.”
Oh. Copia shakes himself. “Ah – thank you, but I need to finish this first.” Copia points to the stack of papers on his desk. He wears a weary smile.
“You can take time to eat. You're allotted a lunch break, right?”
“Well, uh yes but –”
“No buts.” Aether makes his way to plant both hands on Copia's desk. “You need to eat.”
Copia sighs defeatedly. “Alright. Fine. Fine.”
He lets himself be led in the direction of the cafeteria. He manages to eat half of some sort of sorry excuse for pasta. The whole while he listens to Aether speak of his packmates. How they're annoying. How he loves them even if he thinks of killing some of them sometimes.
It makes Copia sad and it must show as he begins picking at his food.
“Copia?”
“Hmm?” He doesn't look up from the plate. It feels like far too much effort.
“Is everything okay?” Aether's voice is tentative.
“Sì, just a bit distracted.” He offers a tired smile and it seeks to settle the ghoul.
“And you?”
Copia is entirely caught off guard. He's zoned out during Aether's spiel, getting lost in the lull of his voice. It's only now he realizes this part of the conversation is aimed at him.
It must show on his face and Aether takes pity, repeating the question. “I said my pack mates can be an issue, but they're still important to me. Then I asked about you.”
“What about me?”
“I asked if you felt the same way with your brothers.”
The fork makes a loud clunking noise as he drops it and it bounces on the floor. Does everyone know? Did they know long before he even did?
Copia feels bile rising in the back of his throat. Feels his eyes beginning to sting in that all too familiar way. He has to get out of here. It was a mistake even coming to the cafeteria with the ghoul. He doesn't even realize he's trembling, breathing heavily until a large hand covers his own.
“It's okay.” Aether's voice is soft. Almost as soft as his eyes. “You don't have to answer. I shouldn't have asked to begin with.”
“No, it's – it's –” Copia deflates altogether. He's so tired of pretending nothing is ever wrong. He's just …tired. “To be completely honest, I do not even think they know I exist.” The laugh that follows is meant to be relaxing, but it's self depreciating.
“What do you mean?”
Why does Aether just keep making this more and more harsh. “It is…hard to explain.” His hands move as he talks. “They are aware that I exist. They just ..eh –” he scratches his head. “I can not think of the word in this language.”
“Care.” Aether finishes for him. “They don't care?”
Copia nods. It sounds even worse when it's said out loud. It sounds even more crushing.
“That's okay. You don't need them. You got us, and me.”
Aether winks at Copia as he squeezes his hand. He wants to shout, exclaim how it's so nice to finally maybe feel like a person. But it doesn't keep the question between them from hanging in the air.
But for how long?
–
Months eventually turn into a year and Copia has made a semi comfortable life for himself here. Each day he eats most of his meals with Aether. The ghoul has made it his personal mission to ensure he eats three solid meals a day. As a result, he's picked up a couple pounds. Where once his ribs protruded, now a small paunch makes itself known.
It happens when Aether is at his apartments one night. He's helping Copia go over some numbers for the yearly budget. Who initiates it, he can't say, but be quickly finds himself sinking into the ghoul's affection.
Copia has his arms wrapped around Aether's neck, kissing him like his life depends on it. Their teeth clack together. Aether's tongue hesitantly asks entrance and Copia lets him in. As soon as his jaw is slack enough, Aether is licking into the Cardinal's mouth. A large hand on the back of his head pulls him further into the kiss until Aether is essentially tongue fucking his throat. He wants it to last but he really needs air.
They break apart, a small trail of saliva still connecting them. Copia gulps down lungfuls of air. His brain doesn't even have time to second guess itself, as Aether undresses him in a swiftness he wasn't aware the ghoul had.
It's only when he's lying naked beneath the ghoul that it dawns on him. He's actually erect this time. It knocks the air from his lungs to realize this is all because of Aether.
Their lips are on each other again, hands exploring. Copia jolts when he feels a slick finger rub over his entrance.
“It's okay. I got you.”
Copia whimpers and withers as Aether sinks a finger into him, working him open. Then adding a second and doing the same. When the ghoul pulls out, Copia scrambles to grab for him.
“Hey, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere.”
It's accentuated as Copia feels the ghoul's cock head slip inside him. Fuck they've barely even started and he's already on the verge of blowing his load.
“Such a good boy.” Aether sinks himself deeper until he's finally bottomed out. “Taking me so well. Like you were handcrafted for me.”
He wants it to be rough and demanding, but Aether throws him for a loop when he keeps it soft and comfortable. It has his thighs shaking as he wraps his legs around Aether's waist. He makes the half-hearted attempt to match the thrusts, but he's gone already.
With a cry, Copia's back arches, sending the ghoul's cock further inside himself. He paints his own stomach with white as he cums so forcefully that he sees stars. He only barely registers when Aether cums inside him, fucking it back into him as it drips free. When he's satisfied, Aether pulls out, eliciting a pathetic whine from Copia.
Copia is still staring at the ceiling dazed when a strong hand grabs him and manhandles him over. Oh. This is new. He lets Aether position him until his head is rested comfortably on a large bicep.
The quiet is comfortable at first but quickly sours as his thoughts spin once more. He thinks he does a better job of masking his emotions than he does, but Copia knows Aether can feel the tears against his skin.
“Hey, what's wrong?” Aether tips Copia's head to look up at him. “Did I hurt you?” There's panic in his voice and Copia hates himself even more for being the cause of it.
He laughs tiredly, wiping his eyes. “No, it's not that. It's just – no one has ever stayed the night before.” He tries to laugh again but it turns into a sob.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No!” He answers far too quickly. But he doesn't care. “It – it's just nice to feel – it's just nice to have someone stay.”
Aether shushes him and eventually their breathing evens out. Copia's eyes flutter as he tries to stay awake. Ultimately sleep wins over. It's here when he's wrapped in Aether's strong arms that for once in his life Copia feels safe.
He feels loved.
#the band ghost#skywarpie writes#okay to reblog i guess#i just KNOW mobile is gonna fuck this up#anyway#ghost band#ghost bc#cardinal copia#papa emeritus iv#aether#nsft
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The Umbrella Academy Final Season: My Version
Part Five: The Unbearable Tragedy Of Getting What You Want
Overview: As the marigold starts working, the family's journey through six years is revealed.
TW: mature language, repetitive use of the phrase "Six years ago", tell me if i missed anything Pairings in the chapter: very tiny glimpse of Allison×Ray A/N: yea so i saw someone say why s2 was so nice with getting peeps invested was cause there was backstory, so i just thought why not?
Masterlist
The next day, the marigold had already started to take effect in their bodies. It had been six years without it. So it was only right that the particle took time to actually fully mix into their bodies.
Luther slapped the alarm clock to stop its annoying beeps. He ended up breaking it. He felt weird as hell. His muscles felt like they were burning up from the inside, but he just figured they were aching.
Six years ago, Luther had looked around for Sloane for a week before Diego, Klaus, Five and Ben had dragged him back to Lila's place. Diego had been the one to talk to him, to force him to rest up and have some food. Lila's parents and family had been kind to him and took care of him for a whole year, one year that he'd used to process his feelings a little and he'd proceeded to make a plan.
He'd gotten a job at a science museum because of his knowledge, and because they were short of a person who could take people around and tell them about science and shit. Even if it had been purely for money and sustenance at first, he'd grown to like the job. He was always praised by people for being the best with schoolchildren, thanks to his unique way of teaching and just his golden retriever vibes. He visited Lila's family sometimes, though. Just when he didn't want to see anybody else. It made him feel nice. And he got to see Diego and his life. He was happy for him.
Diego drove through the same pesky neighbourhood, throwing mail to the houses from the van, not really noticing that his aim was a bit because instead of breaking windows and cutting through vases, it was mostly hitting the door. He had a lot on his mind, from Lila's secret investigation to providing for the family.
Six years ago, Lila had found out that her family was alive, and she'd taken them there. They'd been more than happy to accept him, and three months later, they were married. Then, Grace was born, and their happiness only doubled, when the twins were born two years later. He missed his old life, but he sure as hell wouldn't give this one up for anything.
Lila, on the other hand, had woken up with her eyes stinging for some reason. It wasn't very bad, but it was hindering her work a bit. But, she still went ahead with getting the kids ready for school. They were al excited for the last day of school before Christmas break, when they'd finally get to live next door at her parents and she'd get some alone time with Diego.
Six years ago, Lila had been elated when she'd found out her birth parents were alive. But she also had a shit ton of trauma to get over when it came to them. So, she processed her feelings as best as she could while enjoying life with them. But lately, she was getting a little bit bored. There was an itch that only the investigation scratched. And so, she lied to her husband. To her kids. To her whole goddamn family. She felt too guilty about it, though. Maybe she would get Diego in on it. Or she'd just stop, maybe? She wasn't sure.
Meanwhile, Allison woke up with a scratchy throat and a killer fever. When Ray had felt her forehead burn up under his hand, he'd demanded she get to bed and rest a little. She brushed it off as nothing, but he hadn't budged. As she lay in bed, she couldn't help but think about stuff while she stared at the ceiling.
Six years ago, she had gotten Ray and Claire back, but she might as well have lost her family. Luther wouldn't even look at her because he thought she had something to do with Sloane's disappearance. Diego and Lila were alright, but they kept their distance. Ben, unsurprisingly, didn't care, but that was him with pretty much everyone. Five had gotten busy with his job, and they barely saw him. Viktor was colder than ever because of what happened to Harlan.
She'd been hurting. She knew that. What she did wasn't right. She knew that too. But she didn't regret bringing her husband and daughter back. She'd never apologize for that. She did want to apologize for the other things she did, but, she didn't know if she could.
Klaus woke up feeling all tingly throughout his body, and he felt the weirdest urge to look around to see if someone was watching him.
Six years ago, Klaus hadn't really believed that he could just die. He'd gotten back into his substance abuse tendencies, always experimenting, almost dying all the time. He'd not been ready to believe it till Raymond had needed to pick him up from some gangster's lair three years later to get him straight to a hospital. Claire had seen him like that. And that's when he'd decided to change his ways. He'd gone to rehab, but he'd become very afraid of death. To the point that everything scared him.
Crossing the road, he'd see both ways twice. Someone's smoking a cigarette? Second-hand smoke. Cancer risk. He'd wave the smoke away as fast as he could while exaggerating his cough just to show the other person they weren't just ruining their own stupid lives, but his too. When Allison had taken him in, he stayed home all the time. If it was totally necessary, he went out with rubber gloves on, being extremely careful, especially if he was with Claire. But despite all this, he was proud of being another uncle that his nieces and nephew looked up to.
Five was, as usual in the CIA building, feeling as though his muscles were jelly. He still tried to move whatever part of his hands he could move, trying to stay awake enough so that he could keep an eye on the Thibedeaus.
Six years ago, Five had tried the retired life for a year. He'd moved in with Viktor, with the intention of sleeping early, waking up late to a wonderful pot of black coffee, reading a book, maybe watching some daytime television. There was only one thing he hadn't expected.
Plain. Explicit. Boredom.
He got bored of reading books. He got bored of watching TV. He went fishing, which was a glorious experience, but he didn't know what to do afterward. He was a jack of all trades. He never thought it could make his life It was what had made him a special man at the Commission. So, he'd gone straight to Lance. He had gotten in as a wild card when he'd solved a mission that even he or the director hadn't been able to solve. Soon, he'd grown to be one of the favorites. But still, he was a tired old man.
Ben paced around in his small motel room with a weird itch in his upper back area. It wasn't too bad, but enough to piss him off. He had his phone in his hand, thumb hovering over Klaus's contact.
Six years ago, Ben hadn't known what to do. He had grown closer to the Umbrella Hargreeves family in Oblivion, but he'd been too scared to admit it. So, to distract himself, and to make a plan of what to do next, he'd gone to a diner, where he'd met a guy who was making a crypto app. Being pretty good at numbers was a specialty of Ben, though, it had been instilled in all his siblings. So, he offered to help. And he'd been good, until a year later, when the feds busted them down and accused them of fraud.
Even though Ben hadn't directly been embroiled in it, he'd been sentenced to jail for four years. His lawyer advised that investigating his innocence would take more time and a thorough background search, so he'd relented. And he'd ended up being released six months earlier for good behavior, while his "friend" was continuing to rot somewhere, to his pleasure.
Viktor kept needing to scratch his ears, because of all the fucking noise around him. It felt like all the world was just around him at that moment.
Six years ago, Viktor had just left without any notice. He'd stolen a truck from Reggie's compound and driven it till its gas had given out in Nova Scotia. There, the people had been kind enough to help him and shelter him, till one of the old men there had given him a chance to start something of his own. That's how he'd started his own bar business. He'd even bought a violin to serenade the guests once in a while. He'd missed playing it a lot, and he enjoyed playing it in the empty bar when he closed up. The occasional praise from Five was worth it too.
But little did they know, that there was another impending doom on the way to wreak havoc in their well-adjusted lives.
Another A/N: so this might've been a bit boring, but yea the next chapters will have the good stuff prolly haha Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!!! Tysm for reading❤️🩷💜
#the umbrella academy season 4#tua season 4#tua s4#the umbrella academy s4#the umbrella academy#tua s4 spoilers#tua spoilers#tua#the hargreeves
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mirrorball - j.m
pairing: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader (3rd person)
summary: a gala isn’t your thing, dress shopping isn’t Joel’s. It’s a shame no one can get their way.
warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut in future parts, mentions of alcohol, references to being roofied, language, sexual themes (no actual sex), mentions of blood, joel is a massive dick. let me know if i missed anything!word count: 2.8k
a little note: it’s here! (kinda). ive been kinda busy (i graduated!) but also wanted to take my time with this, and maybe explore some aspects of writing that i usually skim over (my bad). i estimate that this will be maybe 3 parts? i hope i do it justice either way, this fic was born out of this hc, but mostly your encouraging responses. thank you for being so kind 🩷
series masterlist part two>>
For a price tag of almost three grand, her dress is itchy. Sure it's beautiful enough that the slimy little daddy's boys will fawn over her, and each superficial gold digger will give her one syllable compliments in an overly saturated tone, but it fucking itches. She hikes the material further up her thigh for the third time since the short car ride began, trying to scratch at her skin. Maybe it's an allergic reaction. She hopes so, that way she can avoid the event all together. She's half way to pulling her sleeve away from her shoulder, ready to scratch the irritated skin, but a firm grip around her wrist prevents her from that sweet sweet relief.
"Stop fidgeting." Joel's tone is clipped, the usual hint of strain pulling across his words. She swears she's never seen him relax, not since he became her live-in bodyguard anyway. She cuts her eye at him but of course he's not looking. The only time she ever really has his attention is if her life is in danger, other than that its pure nonchalance and ignorant glances. She can admire his desire to fulfil the position, what with the pay and free accommodation, hell if she had a real job she'd probably be just as uptight as him. But there's only so much a person can take.
"It's itchy." Of course she sounds like a whiny little brat. It's fine, that's all he thinks of her anyway, she's sure of it.
"Should've picked the other one then."
She almost laughs.
She had walked him around the store at least four times, each trip resulting in the same two dresses. She couldn't decide between the colours, then the length, and then the sleeves. In the end he forced her into the changing room, mumbling she either picks one of those or goes in nothing. They both know that's not an option. Both dresses felt nice, as nice as a constricting piece of fabric could feel, they both looked as nice as they could in the dreary washed out lighting. In the end she had asked Joel, who sat just the other side of the door, arms folded, shoulders tense, scowl mastered.
Joel isn't one for verbal communication, unless it's telling her to 'go here' or 'stay there' or his most frequented phrase, 'shut up'.
But his eyes say it all.
Sometimes it's a simple twitch, letting her know he's not as irritated as he lets on, others it's a slight squint. That's her personal favourite. That's when she knows she's got him right on the edge.
His eyes fix on her, moving slow and calculated over the second dress. The way the fabric moulds to each divot and curve of her body, lingering on her chest, on the slightly too high slit exposing her thigh. It's a clear winner.
His levels of exasperation had clearly spiked in the time it took for her to change again, his constant glaring, huffing and puffing dialled up to 100. His wide steps only seem to grow wider on the way to the checkout, his whole demeanour screaming get me the fuck out of here. Which is why she doubles back on herself, not needing to check if he's following, she knows he will.
She stops, a wide array of underwear in front of her. She takes her time, making sure to show each and every barely there pair to him, watching that eye twitch with a perfect mix of irritation and lightly tethered resolve.
He'd dragged her out of there in the end, though not after she held up the skimpiest pair of panties she could find. His hand wraps tight around her arm, not enough to hurt her, she knows he'd never do that. But enough to tell her she's officially pushed his buttons a little too much.
Soon enough the car rolls to a slow stop in front of a grand building. Stone columns tower over her when Joel leads her from the car. She likes to pretend it's not in his job description, that instead he's simply just an emotionally constipated gentleman, but she's not stupid enough to believe it. Still, when his hand finds the small of her back, when he guides her up the steps and into the vast museum-turned-ballroom, it's hard to believe that his behaviour is entirely obligatory.
The event is just as grand as she expected. Her father certainly has no trouble with throwing his wealth around, even less so when it presents the opportunity to show just how wealthy he is. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm twinkling light over the guests. An sizeable portion of an orchestra plays dreary classical music from the back of the room, and the guests are filling the space, drinking overpriced champagne and nibbling on bite sized canapés.
She waltzes through the sea of false affluence, painting on her best smile, choosing her most pleasant tone, saying all of the right words. She embraces her father heartily, pushing down the small piece of resistance when he pulls her close. She puts on a good, exhausting show. The only thing that keeps her grounded is Joel, hot on her 5-inch heels, anticipating her every move, being ten steps ahead of her.
She's seated with a handful of the elite from the gathering, laughing when they relay the same stories as always, gasping and feigning surprise when they compliment her. She eats the bland food with a sweet smile and laughs off propositions from parents who just know their son would be a perfect match for her.
In between convoluted speeches, she listens to them drone on about their latest investments, or how well their darling daughters are performing in their ballet classes. She smiles, she drinks. she laughs. She's the perfect daughter. The luckiest girl in the room, with the richest daddy and all the luxuries life could offer. But sat at that table, choking down specs of gold in the dry champagne, she feels more akin to the age old scrolls and scriptures.
A caged artefact, another one of her father's prized possessions, on display to be gasped at. She'd give anything for the glass to shatter, for tiny shards to rain down on each and every person in here. She'd marvel in their horror as they learn they bleed the same as everyone else on this planet. That they're not special, and neither is she.
From the corner of her eye, she spots Joel hiding in the shadows, standing to attention. His eyes constantly scan the room and every few seconds, they're on her. She almost feels bad for practically ogling him whilst he's doing his very best to keep her alive. But his black suit fits his form so well it'd be a sin not to look. She watches as he readjusts his cufflinks for the third time, the material catching around his biceps, the single button clipped across his stomach almost straining with every moment.
Yes, Joel is an insufferable bastard, but he's an unfathomably good looking one. His stoic behaviour is almost forgiven on that basis alone.
A round of applause pulls her from her Joel induced trance. She fixes her smile and joins in, nodding jovially with those around her. Not soon enough, she's free to leave the table, thanking them for their company, and heads straight for the bar. She feels Joel's presence before she sees him, perching a few seats down, eyes still wondering.
She doesn't pay much attention to the man next to her. His suit probably cost more than what most people make in a year, and his charming smile is more snake-like. She smiles when he pays for her drink, laughs and touches his arm, letting him think he has a chance. He's been talking about his most recent investment in overseas stocks for ten minutes, and all she wants is to go home and take off these fucking uncomfortable heels. To be able to breathe without the rigid dress digging into her skin. She wants to be alone, or as alone she can be with her human shadow.
"... and profits are at an all time high. My old man reckons I'll be taking over from him soon enough" The man, Matt? Mike? Manny, speaks. She flashes him a smile.
"Wow. That's amazing." Or at least she hopes it is, he could be talking about his dead childhood pet for all she knows.
"Let me buy you another drink?" He asks. Though it's more of a demand, he's already flagged down the bartender, ordering something sweet and fruity her, and a "real man's" drink for himself.
"You got the last round. I'll get these." She pretends to root around in her too-small purse knowing he'll decline, they always do. Men like him take any chance to throw their money around, wave it in peoples faces, impress the men and woo the ladies.
By the time she's ended the facade, he's waving his amex at her dismissively, nudging the drink towards her. Once again she smiles. She doesn't even want the drink, certainly not in his company.
His beady eyes watch her, a hint of something beneath the thick layer of painted on charm. That snake-like nature increases tenfold and it takes everything in her not to tip the drink down the front of his Givenchy shirt. The glass is barely in her hands when it's ripped from her hands, the familiar scent of Joel invading her space.
His face is taught, that scowl he loves so dearly gone, in its place pure rage. His eyes are dangerously dark, and she's sure if she looked hard enough, there would be smoke blowing from his ears.
It all happens so quickly. The sloshing drink flies from the glass straight into Manny's face, dripping down onto his clothes, turning his sickly white suit into a damp shade of pink. Then Joel is moving, slamming the empty glass onto the bar and gripping the terrified man by his collar.
She can feel the eyes of almost everyone at the gala trained solely on them, she almost expects the music to come to a screeching halt.
She can barely make out Joel's enraged words, despite the silent crowd. She's barely aware of his hand gripping her arm, pulling her through the parting guests. A sea of shocked faces, some sympathetic others purely confused. She stumbles on the top step, her stupid heels and Joel's insane pace working against her. The world turns upside down, and her hands reach out to brace herself, hitting his sturdy back. Even with a layer of clothing between them, she swears she can feel his bare hands across the back of her thighs, the tight muscle of his shoulder pressing against her stomach.
He's thrown her over his shoulder. Like a damned child. And now he's shoving her into the back of the car, as though she's the one that threw a tantrum and caused a scene. He rounds the car and slips in beside her, and they're speeding off back towards her apartment.
The last few minutes slowly slip from a hazy blur to a sharp reality, and she can't help but stare at him. Confusion and pure embarrassment hit her first, then comes the anger. He speaks to the driver for a second, and then the partition is rolling up again.
The car feels ten times smaller and itching of her dress is long forgotten. She wants to ask him what happened, why he dragged her out of there like an insubordinate child, but he's busy typing on his phone, making hushed calls as though a whisper wouldn't travel the few feet of space between them. His chest heaves, small tufts of hair peaking through the now open buttons of his shirt, the once neat tie hanging loosely from his collar.
He barely looks at her the whole time. Even as he helps her out of the car, or guides her into the elevator, or pushes open her front door, bolting it behind them. She throws off the heels the moment she steps into the large living room, knocking an ornament sideways. Not even that gets his attention.
"Sunshine secured." He speaks into his wrist, a small undetectable microphone hidden in one of the cufflinks. Sunshine. She remembers it like yesterday, the first time he'd called her that. She'd stumbled into the kitchen after a late night, barely acknowledging the hulking man sat at the island. She remembers the exact moment his eyes met hers with that all consuming gaze and the slight quirk of his lips as he studied her from head to toe, then in that deep texas drawl, uttered morning sunshine.
She had quickly come to learn it was not as endearing as it seemed. Joel doesn't do endearing.
There's a growing urge to throw something, at a wall or at him is still undecided, so she crosses her arms across her chest instead. She calls out his name, though it falls on deaf ears, his nose buried in that stupid phone of his. She tries again, and again until throwing something doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. Finally, he grants her the privilege of his attention and she considers for a moment, if that's all she wanted. Not answers, just his acknowledgement. He raises an eyebrow, his nonchalance pushing her over the edge.
"What was that?" It comes out as a high pitched shout, rather than the calm and controlled manner she had hoped.
Once again, he quirks his brow saying nothing any everything . This doesn't concern you, or are you really that stupid?
"Joel, you just threw a drink on someone and dragged me out of a room filled with hundreds of people. You would think that warrants an explanation!"
He has the nerve to huff and shake his head, shoving the buzzing phone in his pocket and takes a step towards her.
"You want an explanation." He eyes her again, focusing on the slow curve of her dress. "There was a threat. I eliminated it."
She scoffs, "You were being a dick."
"I was doing my job."
"Oh that's what it was! Your little tantrum was you doing your job?" She's aware that she's now the one throwing a tantrum, not that she cares when he's acting so high and mighty, as though the status of his role outweighs her own peace of mind.
"Go to bed." His phone buzzes again, he ignores it. "It's been a long night and I have a bunch of shit to deal with."
"Are you being serious right now? You just humiliated me in front of everyone. Was carrying me down the steps really that necessary?" If she was itching to throw something a few minutes ago, she's desperate now. Maybe her shoe, right in his face.
"He would've done a lot worse Sunshine, now go to bed." For fucks sakes.
"No! Not until you tell me what is going on."
He sighs, pinching the small bump along the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He does this a lot, when he's trying not to yell at her or even better still, quit his job. He shoots her a pointed look.
"If you weren't so busy flirting with your little boyfriend, you would've noticed him slipping something in your drink." His words are met with a long silence, and the space between them seems to stret even further.
The dress feels tighter, and she wobbles a little, though this time she can't blame it on the shoes. She was wrong. He hasn't humiliated her in front of everyone, he'd done it in her own home.
"Unzip me." Her voice is clipped. She's not sure if she wants to scream or cry. Maybe both. He hesitates for a moment, but then he's there right behind her pulling the zip down so torturously slowly, the soft brush of his knuckles on her skin threatening her with a shiver. She almost hates herself for it.
He steps back, but she doesn't face him. The dress slides off easily, leaving her in barely anything not that she cares. She's already humiliated herself enough, what's another notch in the belt? She gathers up the crumpled fabric, wanting nothing more than to throw it in the bin, and walks down the hall pausing at her door. She turns to him. She refuses to let him have the last word, he doesn't deserve it, not tonight. With tears already threatening her voice and Joel's beyond sour mood she's not sure she cares much either. Making sure to look directly into his eyes, she bares herself, lets him see the hurt he has caused.
"Fuck you."
She makes sure the door slams behind her, leaving him alone in the dark.
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