#canonically yells at them a whole bunch

[stunticonbreakdown]

The whole idea that Megatron actually treats the Stunticons like his children makes the whole Galvatron thing even sadder to me

[lesbiansanemi]

God nothing hits like early bleach, the substitute shinigami arc and rukia’s execution arc are just. Ugh. Something about the crunchy-ass early 2000s-ness of it that the rest of the series lost (not just animation wise but aesthetic wise), when there was still hope that all the potential would be capitalized on, idk, it was just fun and getting to fall in love with all the characters because pretty much every single one introduced was great and engaging. I just really really wish the series had kept that early vibe that it started losing once the visoreds were introduced, they got the last little tail end of it. As soon as we got to the heuco mundo arc this all vanished and it’s so upsetting, the series just lost a lot of its personality, if that makes sense, I wish it had kept it so badly

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[profectua]

》ＢＬＵＥ ＬＯＣＫ Ｈｅａｄｃａｎｏｎｓ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ; ɴᴏɴᴇ! ᴘᴜʀᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴍᴀᴏ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ɪꜱᴀɢɪ, ʙᴀᴄʜɪʀᴀ, ᴄʜɪɢɪʀɪ, ᴋᴜɴɪɢᴀᴍɪ, ɴᴀɢɪ, ʀᴇᴏ, ʙᴀʀᴏᴜ, ʀɪɴ, ʜɪᴏʀɪ, ᴋᴀʀᴀꜱᴜ, ʏᴜᴋɪᴍɪʏᴀ, ᴏᴛᴏʏᴀ

Isagi: Back when he was younger, he had a phase where he would do the dab whenever he scored a goal. It could be completely outdated too and people would cringe at him LMAO. Might’ve also done fortnite dance (he doesn’t even play fortnite). His teammates try to go over and celebrate but he randomly breaks into the orange justice (he can’t even do it properly) so they end up just standing there like 🧍. Let him have his moment I guess???

Bachira: He was one of those kids that played with insects outside or something (speaking from experience) 😭. You’d catch him playing outside and there were 3 worms, each with different names. He probably gave them sad backstories too. The neighbors thought he was weird as hell. If someone pointed it out, he’d be like “Stop being rude to them! They’re my friends!” And he’d actually look pissed off, exactly like this emoji 😠. If he comes back to the same spot only to find that they aren’t there, he’ll come home crying 😭 🙏 Please help him.

Chigiri: He’s canonically a moody guy…I feel like he ‘decides’ his mood for the day ykyk 😭. If it’s a clear sky, sunny day, he’ll choose to be happy but if he wakes up and it’s raining, he decides that he’s gonna be angry. Always ends up breaking character though. If he's laughing and suddenly remembers that he's supposed to be angry, he’ll immediately put on a blank expression again like 😐 and the people around him think they did something wrong LMAOO. Like??? What happened bro???

Kunigami: His go-to pose for photos is the thumbs up or the peace sign and HE LOOKS SO STIFF. He’s just there like 🙂 ✌️. He looks so awkward pls 😭. His little sister is trying so hard not to laugh and he’s just like ???? What's so funny?? If he’s accidentally photo-bombing and realises too late, he’ll strike that EXACT POSE until someone tells him to move cus his brain couldn’t process it ITS SO SAD 😭

Nagi: Once, when he was younger, he tried doing one of those free robux application things where you play a bunch of games for robux and he thought it was legit because some youtuber did it. His parents were like “Seishiro what are you even doing” and he was like “I’m grinding robux mom, you wouldn’t understand” Like Nagi…don’t even get your hopes up 😬. Long story short, it didn’t work and he ended up with some virus on his ipad. He woke his parents up at 3am and was like “um…I think I got hacked ☹️” His parents WERE NOT pleased 😭

Reo: Had a little rebellious phase where he only used cringey Gen Z slang. In front of his parents too and they’d stare at him like 😨. “Zamn ngl this food is bussin’ fr goated no cap,” said young Reo, at a luxurious 5-star restaurant. His mom almost choked on her food. Probably got side-eyed by the waiter too. He didn’t even realise that it wasn’t cool until he found out that NOBODY actually says all that 😭.

Barou: When he’s eating other people's food or eating at a restaurant, he judges it like he’s Gordan Ramsey or something??? Imagine he’s at someone's house for dinner and then when they’re eating he has this whole routine. First he sniffs, feels the texture, then he examines with his eyes, and finally starts eating. You’ll tell if he likes it or not from his expressions 💀 He’ll start interrogating too LMAO. He’d be like “What kind of spice is this?” “How much salt did you add?” HE’S NOT PLAYING YALL.

Rin: Took elementary dodgeball SERIOUSLY. He’d yell at his teammates. Losing? Not on his watch. “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?! IT’S DODGE BALL NOT GET HIT IN THE FACE BALL YOU LOSER!”. If he ever lost a game in PE, he’d start crying and throwing a fit, all while blaming his teammates. He would act like an angel if Sae was there though LMAO.

Hiori: He tries to re-enact cool moves from video games. Like if there's a character that has a cool playstyle he’ll literally hop out of his gaming chair just to swing a spatula around 😭. He got the sound effects goin on too, you can hear little pews and booms. Or if there’s a specific voice line from the final boss that he thinks sounds cool he’ll say it out loud (sometimes his parents hear and they think that he’s lost it not that they care though.)

Karasu: He had a huge chess.com phase, probably in middle school. But he was that one kid that goes ‘I wasn’t even trying tho lol’ when he lost (behind the screen he is SCREAMING in rage). ALSO He’s the type to be super expressive (kinda like Barou) 😭. You’ll know when he’s judging you cus’ his face will go 😬 😲 ☹️ 😧 🤔 in that order 💀. He could say something but his expressions reveal all there is.

Yukimiya: When he first got his glasses, he probably forgot them a lot LOL. Like he’d show up to football practice without them and one of his teammates would go “Yo where’s your glasses, Yukki?” and he’d be like…oh yeah. There was probably one point where he thought his eyesight was getting better. He woke up one morning and just decided that he suddenly felt like he had good vision again. It was all in his head 💀.

Otoya: He once tried hitting on a girl when her boyfriend WAS RIGHT THERE and he didn’t even notice. Let’s just say he ran for his life. His older sister has a video recording of it and uses it as blackmail. Worst of all he genuinely thought he could've ‘stolen’ her from him 😭 LIKE OTOYA NO. 😭

[hsyvers]

IM IN LOVE WITH SPIDER-JEN you dont even understand 🥰😝😻 but im craving some angst... can you write yn getting attacked by one of yunjins enemies and she doesnt get there in time? my heart hurts just by requesting this 🤧

for you, i'd bleed myself dry - spiderwoman!h.yj x reader

WARNING(S); vague descriptions of death

NOTES; 1k. i hate writing angst so so much but when someone requests i'll try my best to deliver so 😭 yk atsv and like the thing abt canon events....and the last gwenter scene in tasm 2....yeah....im kinda denying that it's a pt.2 to my spiderwoman yunjin fic bc im delulu <3

"hey!" yunjin yells, her heart hammering in her chest, "y/n! i need to hear you!"

"i'm okay!" you respond shakily, standing on a tiny ledge that oversaw the whole hollow clocktower, except for a bunch of gears moving. the fall would still be able to kill, "focus on your fight!"

yunjin lets out a relieved sigh, wincing at the action. her ribs hurt the more she breathes, her vision getting blurry the more she evades her enemy's attacks.

how much has technology advanced anyway? with all the guys yunjin has had to deal with, especially the last few months, it felt like every terrible person was trying to be on par with spiderwoman.

that's how you all ended up on top of this fucking clocktower anyway. if it weren't for her insisting to give you a quick kiss, he might have thought you were just a normal civilian.

'fucking idiot,' she thinks to herself, forcing her limbs to move. once she feels her foot connect with his face, she dives down to get you.

"hold on tight," she orders, with you nodding quickly. she webs something sturdy above the both of you, but just as she pulls up, the criminal cuts it off.

all yunjin can hear is your gasp and his sickening laugh.

she grabs you with a web and sends another one to hold her up.

he seems bored of repeating the same action, jumping down to challenge yunjin to take him on again.

you see the white eyes of her mask focusing on you, and at this moment, it hurts to think of how much she loves you.

when he tries to grasp her arm, you shout a warning, and yunjin manages to kick him off again, her arm swinging to throw a punch before she holds herself up again.

then the gears meet, and your web snaps.

it happens so quickly, that, you wonder if you even screamed.

yunjin doesn't either. she just jumps.

lower, and lower, and lower.

a string chases your chest.

you hear a crack, and you feel yunjin's arms envelop you.

and you're grateful that that's the last thing you feel.

"please, please, please, oh fuck," yunjin pulls off her mask, tears streaming down her cheeks when she falls to the floor, cradling you, "please, babe, no. don't do this."

she leans her ear to your chest, and she has the urge to die herself when she hears nothing.

"honey, no, please," she begs softly, her chest wrecking with sobs when she presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

"get up, okay? tell me you're alright. scold me for being late to practice. yell at me for dropping you!"

it aches. it aches how alive you looked and how dead you felt.

"i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry," she chants, holding you closer as she cries, "it's all my fault. i should've-...i..."

"you look so tired," you whisper, one late night.

yunjin had come home around 3 am, and she's sitting tiredly on your bed, nuzzling her face onto your chest as you stood and held her.

"everything...hurts."

you pull her mask off, expression souring when you see a cut on her lip and eyebrow.

"one day, i'll kill the people who hurt you like this," you declare quietly, after patching her up, like you always have, and you always will.

"no need," she whispers, burying her face in your hair when you lay on the bed, "i'll handle them and you handle me, okay?"

you giggle, and nod in approval, taking her hand to press gentle kisses on her battered knuckles, "i'll take care of you."

and yunjin is surprised at how much she yearns. even when you're around. and painfully more so when you're not.

"it's rotten work."

"not to me. not if it's you."

she remembers falling asleep to your voice.

she never regretted touching you, kissing you, telling you how she loved you, every single day. she never forgot your lips on her own, her cheeks, and her scars.

maybe that's why it was so utterly devastating.

because she never felt that strongly about anyone, or anything. she was the city's protector while you were hers.

she crumbles completely, and she sits there for hours.

the police can arrive, blame everything on her, arrest her, she didn't care.

the only reason why she tears herself away from your body, was so you could be buried properly. she feels as though she can't speak, her eyes red and dull when she left you.

she doesn't come out of her room for days. everyone seems to notice spiderwoman's absence. her friends try to get to her, but she refuses to respond.

she finally shows her face at your funeral, and when they ask why she did, she merely says it's all for you.

and also, she thinks, because you saved her. again, even after death. you did have a way with words, after all.

to my soulmate,

i know you warned me before we started dating, about how i might be in as much danger as you are.

if you found this, it's because you were right, and for whatever reason, i can't be with you right now.

i just want to say that i don't regret kissing you that one night after you saved me, and i certainly wouldn't take back all the love i have given you and my experiences of you giving all you have left in you to me.

in fact, i'd do it all over again, and even now, i love you, i love you, i love you.

you got this! you can pull through it. you're the strongest person i know. and don't forget to lean on our friends if you need them. i know you'll be in good hands.

i took care of you for as long as i could, and you protected me to the best of your ability. i know, because i trust you.

so please, continue to smile and laugh for me, i'll be watching from wherever i am, so don't you dare forget it!

yours forever,

the love of your life (your words, not mine, babe)

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

I feel bad for Starlo.

Star has a point, idk what the four were ticked off about, there is like 99% chance everyone willingly participated in the trolley problem, based on what we've seen of his behavior thus far it's not like Starlo to be that big of a jerk/drag them by force/yell at them to do it. Ed's words:

he does it because Star asks NICELY

clearly jealous

It genuinely seemed like a fun time/fun roleplay, especially since every day is the same. Like, the five are supposed to be a rowdy and adventures bunch, what exactly did Starlo do wrong, I'm genuinely confused and curious. Except taking a big liking in Clover (his posse should know that this is a big moment for him, according to Blackjack they've known each other since high school and had the same liking for westerns. So they were basically a nerd gang.) Starlo was kind, patient and considerate towards Clover the whole time, even warned Mooch about them not being bandits, taught Clover gun safety, wanted to bring his posse along for a fun time, thanked Ace for telling him about getting Clover a new hat...

Sure, at first he only liked Clover for being a human, but as Ceroba says, that changed and he grew to genuinely care about them, plus I can't help but think Star saw himself in Clover and that's part of the reason he was so proud of them all the time even when they messed up (I'll talk more about this at some point)

What exactly made Ace want to leave the gang? He even said how he doesn't mind "getting run over by the fake train"

he's so nice. says sorry for forgetting the safety goggles even when he was scatterbrained due to his excitement. I love him so much

The only real "faults" (I'll call them temporary faults) I saw in Star during the Wild East section was that he was even more enthusiastic and more proud than usual. But how couldn't he be when he met a member of the species that he has admired for so long because they have real cowboys and sheriffs on the surface (who are seen as brave heroes who deliver justice, while Star canonically feels like a nobody farmer). His posse should have realized Clover wouldn't be there forever and just let their boss enjoy himself with his "deputy who'd have to leave sooner or later anyway"(or be more patient with him/ask him why he feels this strongly towards Clover/if there's a deeper reason for that). His friends including Ceroba just turn their back on him so quickly instead. The moment he's gotten the chance to feel valued for once and put himself first and not have to take care of this whole town and everyone in it and live his dream of meeting a real human, suddenly "his personality is damaged?"

Star's literally built this whole town, organised everything, he worries about everyone, Ceroba (plus was the one to give her emotional strength before and after Clover's sacrifice), Kanako, the monsters, his family, struggles with feelings of worthlessness yet never wipes that smile off his face, always does his best to be hopeful and optimistic and make others laugh, gave his posse a nap time so they don't become exhausted, gave Ceroba a free home, didn't act upon his feelings towards her and was a 110% supportive, caring friend instead. THAT'S who he is. He's the papa bear of this friend group, the glue holding everyone together.

He was just *really* excited. Y'all know he's insecure and just wishes to escape who he is and yet y'all blame him for liking Clover so much. Yeah, the four are very clearly jealous. But why won't the four of you control your feelings for a while? As mentioned, Clover WILL HAVE TO LEAVE EVENTUALLY. They won't be Star's "deputy" forever (the kid who's just as into westerns as he is, who values justice just as much, who also values doing the right thing. Someone he clearly felt understood in the presence of, whom he loved; just look at the way he talks about Clove during Showdown). Star seems genuinely confused of what he did wrong poor guy just wanted to live his fantasy for once and feel important:

Even at the beginning Moray's like "oh no Martlet is upset" Mooch replies "don't be a buzzkill nothing exciting ever happens around here" and Ray's like "Yeah you've got a point"

If you all agreed to have a little fun with a human who will very soon leave forever why is Starlo's enthusiasm such a big problem? If the posse weren't into this after all (unless they were simply too jealous which could have been solved with a honest talk and a little patience) why are you doing this "rowdy" job with Star in the first place? Do you want your boring routine day to day life so much back? Or just for Clover to leave (which they will soon enough)? You, western enthusiasts, literally met a real human, A HUMAN FROM WESTERNS YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE PASSIONATELY INTO (clearly not as passionate as Star but passionate ENOUGH to understand where he's coming from).

... okay.

[porcelainseashore]

Ghosts from the Past (3)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: Spoiler alert, but I want to be completely transparent here. There may be slight dubcon present: two characters were coerced into a kiss by a third party, with one of them being on ecstasy, though they consented to it before and after with check-ins.

AO3 Link

Chapter 3: Confession

“No!” Silje’s disapproval resounded against the four walls of the studio. “You’re not concentrating!” 

Taking a drag of her cigarette as she walked up to you, a cloud of smoke swirled from her mouth. “What is going on with you?”

“I-” You looked down sheepishly, upset that you were performing way below her and your standards lately. Dealing with Leon coming back into your life and the impending event of betraying her coming up sooner than you expected, were distracting you from giving your best. 

“I’m sorry, Silje. I don’t know what has gotten into me,” you apologized. “I’ll try again.”

With a flick of her wrist, she commanded, “Sit.” You knew better than to question her and did as she asked, planting yourself on the floor by the mirror, hugging your knees like a child who had been relegated to the quiet corner.

Pointing to one of the other principal dancers, she barked out another order, “Take her place.”

Silje turned over to you again with a harsh reminder. “The premiere is next week. If you’re not ready by then, you will not be a part of it.”

This performance was an important one for the company and you didn’t want to let your mentor down, much less miss out on the opportunity to dance the leading part to a grand hall filled with spectators, including the big-wigs of the arts world.

“I understand,” you nodded your head respectfully. “I will do better next time.”

Everyone got into position as Silje counted down to the start of the piece for the piano accompanist. The movements began like clockwork and you tried to remain attentive to the steps where you had slipped up earlier on. However, you couldn’t shake off the memory of your previous meeting with Leon, where he had almost caressed you with a tenderness you missed from back when you were both in love. You shivered at the invisible touch, like your body remembered and craved it. But maybe you were wrong and had just imagined the whole thing.

As you focused back on the choreography again, the principal dancer who had taken your part stopped abruptly, as if she was in a daze, only to start covering her ears like they were in excruciating pain.

“GET OUT! GET OUUUTTT!!!” Her screams pierced through the room as she shook her head violently, clawing at her face, leaving angry, red marks across her pale skin.

For a moment, everyone stood still in complete shock, unsure of what to do. The dancer dropped to the floor, eyes rolling all the way to the back of her head, as she convulsed and frothed white foam at the mouth.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Another dancer yelled, as people dashed around, trying to prop her up, holding her flailing arms and legs down so that she would not hurt herself.

You noticed a flash of dark veins that seemed to swim across her body, before disappearing again.

By the time the paramedics had arrived, the affected dancer had calmed down, but was in a catatonic state. The first examinations didn’t find anything particularly out of the ordinary, except for an irregular heartbeat, but they took her away on a stretcher to the nearby hospital to get her further checked out.

You eyed Silje’s concern as she tried to allay the fears of the rest of the company, passing it off as nerves and imagination. The stress of the premiere could take its toll after all. 

Leon’s words about bioweapons and viruses came back to haunt you, while your hands trembled in response. Was this what Silje meant as the gift? Would you end up like the poor girl?

You felt the buttery, smooth texture of Silje’s gloves against your cheeks as she cupped your face gently. “My child,” she cooed. “Don’t worry.” Then, she stroked your hair lovingly like how a mother would. “I’ll make sure you’re prepared by then.”

Staring into the abyss of her black tinted sunglasses, you prayed silently that you would be when the time came.

━━━━━━━━━━━

After an exhausting dance practice and sending a follow-up report to Bergmann and Leon about the accident at the theater, you set off to have an early night as you would need to handle the meeting with Till at an unearthly hour the next day.

When you woke up it was still dark as night. The early morning chill greeted you as you rubbed sleep out of your eyes and prepared your makeup and outfit before heading to the club. Rounding the corner to its entrance, you saw the familiar endless queue lines which stretched out far into the distance. You wouldn’t be caught dead joining them.

At the side of the building, you spotted Leon with his trademark pout leaning against the wall. He was wrapped tightly in a longer coat, instead of his usual leather jacket, covering what you hoped would be the outfit you gave him the other day. As you came closer, you were relieved to see the leather harness peeking out from underneath it.

“Hey, you ready?” you breathed, misty vapor emanating from your mouth.

“I look ridiculous,” he complained.

“We should have a tip jar for every time you’re a Negative Nancy,” you joked, hoping to put him in a better mood.

His sour expression shifted to one you interpreted as slight amusement. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

You laughed, continuing, “Besides, I bet you’d look hot to the club patrons.”

His frown returned as he cocked an eyebrow. “And I’m supposed to find that reassuring?”

Rolling your eyes, you dragged him by the arm towards the bouncer guarding the door, ignoring the dirty looks you were given by those waiting in line. One of the benefits of being a regular was that you could skip to the front, even without your name on the guestlist, as long as you turned up the charm of course.

Throwing on the brightest smile you could muster, you let go of Leon and turned your attention towards the bouncer. He was a stout, beefy man clad in black, topped with a beanie and adorned with facial tattoos and piercings. You gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Hallo, Bruno. Wie geht’s?” (Hi Bruno, how’s it going?)

Bruno was the typical tough guy bouncer you’d find at most clubs in the area, intimidating and not afraid to put up a fight when needed. Although he wasn’t one to be bribed financially, he had a weakness for beautiful women or charismatic ones like yourself.

Holding onto you in the embrace for a little longer than necessary before letting go, he sighed and shrugged in response. “Tja, viel los heute.” (Well, very busy today.)

Motioning to you and those surrounding you, he questioned, “Wie viele?” (How many?)

“Zwei.” (Two.) You pointed between yourself and Leon behind you.

Bruno’s face dropped, as he sucked his teeth and sized Leon up, obviously unimpressed. “Mit dem Amerikaner?” (With the American?) He attempted to clarify, as if hoping you would disagree. 

Damn, he must have heard the last bits of the conversation you had with Leon in English before heading over to him.

“Ja.” (Yes.) The corners of your mouth were aching from maintaining the cheery smile.

The moment you saw the leery grin slowly spread across his face, you knew what he was going to ask for. You forgot how Bruno enjoyed his little power trips sometimes.

“Zeig mir, was du trägst.” (Show me what you’re wearing.) He indicated for you to open up your coat, even though he knew you always adhered to the dress code. He was merely tolerating Leon because of you.

Speaking of the devil, you saw Leon brush past you to confront Bruno. “Hey-!”

Bruno shoved him back roughly, sneering, “Was geht denn bei ihm?” (What the hell is wrong with him?)

You quickly placed yourself between the two of them, before Leon could get more aggressive and turn this into a makeshift fight club. Placing a hand on Leon’s chest and raising your other in front of Bruno as a sign to hold off, you whispered to Leon, “Come on, don’t.”

Leon caught your gaze with concern, his eyes seeking some form of acknowledgement that you were sure about this. Giving him a weak smile, you nodded. At this, he backed off grumpily, allowing the scene to unfold before him.

Bracing yourself for the cold, you unbuttoned your coat, taking in a sharp breath as you slipped it off your shoulders and bared yourself to the bouncer and those within the vicinity. Bruno’s eyes widened and he licked his lips as he took in the sight of your rope corset, intricately tied along your waist and framing your breasts, which were left open except for a sprinkle of rose gold glitter covering your nipples. Below, you wore a matching pair of nude rose, lace panties and garters holding up your thigh-high stockings. 

To sweeten the deal, you gave him a 360-degree turn with a seductive smile to boot. From your peripheral vision, you saw Leon’s blazing blue eyes staring at you with an unreadable expression. You couldn’t tell if he was dumbfounded, appalled or awkward, but he couldn’t hide the redness that crept up from his neck to the sides of his face, as he swallowed thickly and bit the inside of his cheek.

Bruno shamelessly admired your outfit however, giving you a low wolf-whistle in approval. With that, you placed your coat back on, hugging yourself while trying to stop your teeth from chattering.

“Damn… Sexy Outfit.” He grinned. 

Phew, fucking finally.

He pushed open the thick set of formidable-looking doors to the club, motioning for you and Leon to enter, grunting, “Viel Spaß!” (Have fun!)

Ducking in, you sensed the annoyance in Leon’s voice as he muttered under his breath, “Arschloch.” (Asshole.)

Inside, as per the house rules, you left your coats and phones in the cloakroom, though Leon took an unwarranted amount of time to remove his outerwear. It felt like coaxing a young child to eat their vegetables, but you got there in the end.

You were pleasantly surprised that he had done exactly as you asked him to. The translucent crop top and leather boxers fitted over his muscular physique like a glove, with his sculpted abs on show. As a finishing touch, the harness hung perfectly over his sinewy chest. He had managed to figure out how to wear that thing properly. Not bad.

“So, you approve?” He waved his hand up and down in front of your face, smirking. 

Shit, were you staring? You blinked. “Uh-”

“Next time, take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He flipped his hair, gesticulating at you to lead the way, as you groaned at his cheesy comeback.

Pumping techno music blasted through the sound system, the heavy bass vibrating through your bones. Beckoning Leon with a curled finger to follow behind you, you waded through the swarm of practically naked bodies past the dance floor and the maze of rooms - one with filled with static TV screens in a midnight garden, another littered with confessional booths and hot pink neon lights, the dungeon area, an empty space save for a golden cage and a pole, and so on. It was like being Alice in Wonderland. In every corner, you could find all sorts of hedonistic acts in full, public display. From drug taking, to S/M play, to anonymous sex with strangers in dark rooms, people were completely unabashed, as if they wanted to lose themselves to the night and party like there was no tomorrow.

You wondered how Leon was faring with all of this, knowing it could be rather overwhelming for those new to the city’s nightlife culture - yourself included when you had first stepped into this establishment many years ago. Turning around, you noticed he attracted a lot of attention from the usual club-goers, as you had earlier predicted. He was busy trying to fend them off, growling, “Not interested,” each time through his gritted teeth.

“You ok?” you called out.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, shutting his eyes as he sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, just get me to Till already.”

“Um, I could leash you, if you want?” You offered, holding up the item in your hand and quickly explaining, “To stop them from coming on to you.”

“What?!” He sputtered.

“They’ll think you’re owned.” 

Now you wished you had held your tongue, as Leon’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when you mentioned that.

“Ok, forget I said anything!” You raised your hands in surrender, but just as you were about to move off, you felt a firm grip on your shoulder.

“Wait.” He looked at you stoically, but you could tell how he was unnerved at the same time. “Do it,” he commanded. 

You obliged, slowly reaching out to clip the leash on to the collar ring of his harness, giving him enough time to back out if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Gently, you tugged at it, bringing him further into the club, behind staff doors and underground, where your contact would be.

Reaching a backroom obscured by a beaded curtain and two bodyguards at the entrance, you informed them about your meeting with Till and they let you in, telling you to wait by the lounge chairs until you were called. You heard Leon clear his throat and realized you still had him by the leash, which could be taken off now that he was out of the rabid grasps of the crowd.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You blushed, chewing your lip as you undid the clasp and put it away. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“No.” He shook his head, as he rubbed the leather strap that was digging into his neck, unused to the sensation he felt there. 

“If you’d asked me whether I saw this coming back in high school, I’d never have guessed it in a million years,” he laughed softly and for a brief moment you caught a glimpse of the same sweet-hearted boy you had grown up with.

He straightened himself, running a hand through his blonde locks, as his gaze shifted around you nervously. “So, you’re really into this sort of thing, huh?”

You puffed out a deep breath. It was a long story. To be honest, you put yourself out there as a way to adapt and survive in a city that was so different from anywhere you’d ever been to. You explored all its nooks and crannies, along with its vices, so to speak, making fast friends and taking any distraction you could get to suppress the loneliness and nightmares.

“Well… it’s alright,” you commented vaguely, avoiding any sort of eye contact with him. “I guess I just wanted to escape from the past.” 

Before he had a chance to respond, you heard someone calling your name from the next room. Getting up, you made your way to a sectioned-off area laid with tatami mats. Billowy, white linen curtains draped around it, and behind them was a man sitting cross-legged with a deck of tarot cards spread out on the table in front of him.

The moment he spotted you, he leaped out and embraced you, giving you a double kiss on the cheeks. “Darling…” he greeted with an odd sing-song. “Always such a pleasure to see you.”

If there was a stereotype for how a criminal fence looked, Till wasn’t it. He wore a colorful kimono top and loose harem pants. His hair was covered in glitter and his face decorated with bold and flamboyant makeup that put yours to shame.

That said, Till could be friendly and light-hearted to a certain extent, but also incredibly shrewd and knew what things were worth. If you got too comfortable with him, he would bare his fangs. The shadows of his bodyguards always lurked nearby, never quite out of reach.

“And your friend?” He turned his attention towards Leon and winked. “Oh, he’s a handsome one.”

“Name’s Leon,” came the gruff reply. His hardened expression returned as he took a step towards Till. “Shall we get down to business?”

“Ah… so tense.” Till circled around, giving Leon a brisk massage on the shoulders which he attempted to shrug off. “Relax.”

“Come here.” Till gestured towards the mat, indicating that you should sit down, as he brought over two conspicuously red files, placing them at his side.

He then proceeded to empty out an off-white, crystalline powder from a resealable plastic bag onto a hand mirror lying on the table, using a card to cut up a thick line. Giving you a brazen grin, he extended the mirror over to you along with a straw. “It’s your favorite. Go on, you know the first one’s free.”

Just as you were about to give in to your temptations, Leon grabbed your arm and squeezed it tightly, his eyes clouded in a mixture of worry and disapproval.

“Tsk tsk, you’re no fun!” Till tutted at Leon, shifting the two red files towards him. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you.”

Leon reached out to take the files with his other hand, but Till slid them back like a cat-and-mouse game. “Uh uh. Money first, then pick one.”

“What about the other?” Leon questioned suspiciously.

“We’ll get to that when the time comes.”

At this point, Leon let go of you reluctantly, but not without giving you a warning glance, before trawling through his waist pack and dumping out a wad of notes onto the table.

“I think you and I both know that this info is worth another stack,” Till remarked testily, wearing a shark-like smile on his face.

“Fine,” Leon spat, tossing out another bundle.

Till purred in satisfaction, as he took the stacks of euro bills, giving them a huge whiff and soaking in the earthy smell of old paper. 

As Leon picked up one of the red files and peered through its contents, you slinked forward, ignoring the awkwardness of getting your fix in front of him, and snorted up the line of MDMA that Till had divided for you earlier. The substance burned your nasal membranes and your eyes watered as you sniffed a couple of times for good measure, dabbing at your nose daintily with your fingers. The bitterness of it trickled down your throat, creating a foul taste in your mouth. The high would take at least half an hour to kick in. You made flimsy excuses to yourself that with all the recent happenings, you deserved to let loose just this once.

Leon observed you momentarily in silent disappointment, then went back to inspecting the fine print on the documents, his brows creasing in unease the more he went through them.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Till’s melodic voice rang out, disrupting both of you from your reveries. “Who could imagine something as simple as mold held so much potential?”

You looked up in confusion until Leon handed you the file to review.

“Who else knows about this?” He shot Till a piercing stare.

“You’re the first client it’s passed through,” Till admitted composedly. “The contact details of the scientist who created that report is in this other file.” He waved it around in the air smugly. “Wouldn’t it be nice to acquire his access card?”

The report was about the experimentation going on in the labs and unlike what had been previously suspected, it wasn’t the Plaga. It was something entirely new, which Leon seemed not to have much of a clue about. A project named NEXBAS was underway, currently in the B-Type series, whatever that meant. You skimmed through a couple of female-sounding names given to specimens they infected with the prototype mold. It was an ambitious project that aimed to create B.O.W.s capable of mind control. 

Shakily, you handed back the file to Leon. So this was the cause of all the hallucinations that the people at the theater had experienced. However, you still didn’t understand what Silje’s gift meant. Did she plan to make you a bioweapon too?

As Leon continued to take out additional cash to purchase the other file, Till giggled mischievously. “Oh no, no! I don’t want any more of that. It’s so… what’s the word? Boring.”

“How about we play a small game of truth or dare?” He suggested.

“What the hell?” Leon raised his voice in disbelief.

“Just one round.” Till looked in your direction. “Come on, darling. Entertain me. Truth or dare?”

Till definitely liked keeping people on their toes. He was a sly one. “Truth,” you replied, sealing your fate in this warped fantasy of his.

Leon sulked in the corner, awaiting what Till had in store for you.

“Have you two fucked?” He quizzed, unflinchingly.

Talk about being brutally blunt. You sucked in a quick breath as you heard Leon choke on his saliva.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking down at your feet in humiliation, unwilling to lie in fear of jeopardizing the meeting.

Till chuckled. “Aww, so shy… how cute!” He clapped his hands together in glee before facing Leon, who resorted to giving him death glares. “And you, big boy. Your turn.”

Leon pursed his lips. “Dare.”

“A man of few words,” Till rightly noted. “And so much tension!” He shook his head mockingly. “Tell you what, why don’t you go relieve some of it with her, right here?” You gasped, aware of the underlying meaning of his sentence as he pointed at you.

“You’re fucking insane!” Leon cried, getting out of his seated position immediately.

“I know, that’s what my shrink tells me!” Till roared with laughter. “Alright, since you’re my favorite customer-” He fluttered his eyelashes at you. “-I’ll make it simple. How about a hot, steamy kiss, hm?”

“And you’re just about coming up on that high, aren’t you? Delicious,” he added, smacking his lips suggestively.

You couldn’t deny how perceptive Till could be at times. The increasing waves of euphoria were clawing its way up from the pits of your stomach to your chest. You felt dizzy, but connected to every living and non-living thing in the room.

“Go direct your porno elsewhere, freak!” Leon yelled, before helping you to your feet, in an attempt to leave the place.

Till drew out his lighter, flicking it open at the remaining file in a threatening manner. “You sure about that?”

The drugs made you feel less inhibited, but the reason you favored them over alcohol was because for the most part, you still remained in control of your own actions. Tracing Leon’s jawline with your fingers, you tried to appeal to him calmly, “We need that file, Leon. It’s just a kiss anyway?”

“I-” He froze up, casting you a pained look. “I can’t do this to you. It’s not right.”

“I’m ok, if you’re ok with it,” you affirmed. “It’s not the drugs talking, I swear.”

He closed his eyes and sighed into your caress. “Let’s make this quick then.” Though his voice was still laced with doubt. “Promise you’ll stop me at any time you don’t feel comfortable. I mean it.”

“I promise,” you breathed.

Till tapped his foot impatiently. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

You nodded, stroking Leon’s cheek and encouraging him to go ahead. With that, he leaned in, taking your lips into a gentle kiss, soft as velvet like the first time he had kissed you under the starlit sky. Memories of when you had been together came rushing back, filling the emptiness that ached in your heart for years. You clung to him desperately as he pulled you closer into his arms, deepening the kiss which grew in intensity and it felt like your body was melting into his. Parting your lips, you allowed his tongue to slip inside and run it along yours, the sensation sending wild tremors through your nerves. It had been so long since you’d been kissed like this, you wondered if Leon felt the same way as you did in that very instant.

“Wow!” Till exclaimed, fanning himself with the file. “I’d say that was a 10 out of 10.”

You and Leon broke away from each other, lips wet and swollen with need, breathless and panting away heavily. You already missed the warmth of his mouth against yours.

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Till held out the file to Leon, who snatched it away from him in disgust.

“By the way, in exchange for the access card, the scientist wants a guarantee of safe passage.” Till disclosed casually. “He specifically told me to reach out to someone like yourself.”

It dawned on you in horror that this whole time Till had played the game just to mess with the two of you. You actually didn’t need to ‘pay’ anything for the information, because it had already been paid for. By the scientist.

Leon was fuming, but it seemed like he knew better than to resort to physical violence with a man of connections who was well-guarded, and likely had a weapon or two hidden under his sleeve.

Till waved goodbye as you were escorted out the room. “It was a delight working with you!” 

His statement was met with Leon raising his middle finger back at him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had insisted on watching over you, as you came down from your high at his place. You suspected he felt terrible about the whole ordeal with Till, but you didn’t know how else to convince him that it was fully consensual until you were sober. So you lay in a bathrobe on the living room couch, drinking plenty of water and listening to soothing music, while Leon typed up a report for HQ.

At some point, Hunnigan had gotten in contact with him about the updates she had researched. There were no Los Illuminados members involved in the current case. The remaining stragglers were disenfranchised and left in Spain. No trade routes between them and Germany had been found.

Based on the details you had given them about Silje’s ‘business partner’, they managed to capture footage of him from cameras they had planted outside the building. It turned out that he went by the name of Brandon Bailey, and was part of the crime syndicate known as The Connections. They had been building a base of operations for their bioweapon products in the surrounding regions.

Leon was given a deadline to close the base in Berlin before the upcoming shipment could take place. By the end of next week, everything had to be terminated.

A couple of hours later when you sobered up, you tried to broach the subject of the kiss with Leon. There would never be a good time to bring it up and you decided it was better to do so now than leave it to fester for later.

“I’m fine. I still feel the same as before,” you reassured him. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I do,” he murmured, yet he threw a troubled glance in your direction. “Doesn’t make it right though.”

“I mean, it was fucked up, but I-”

He cut you off, intent on following through with his line of reasoning. “You don’t deserve this.”

Don't deserve what? To be put in the firing line? You chose this life to be an informant yourself. Even so, the guilt was eating away at him. From his interactions, you were beginning to see how he wanted to protect you from getting hurt and doing things you would regret in the mission. But was that all?

Despite the countless thoughts running through your head, you carried on with the confession you never got to make when he had left for Raccoon City. “Leon… I still love you.”

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs as the words tumbled out of your mouth, so pure and unadulterated, and meanwhile, an overpowering sense of fear started to set in. Was it too soon to say such things?

He tensed up noticeably; the exact reaction you were dreading.

“What’s wrong?”

He pressed his lips together with a sullen look on his face. “There’s been someone else…” he trailed off.

Another woman. Your heart sank and you heard the sound of blood rushing into your ears. Well, at least you could move on now, right? That was your closure and consolation prize, along with feeling like such a fool.

“I see.” You tried to mask the quiver in your voice but to no avail.

“I’m sorry.” He held your hand for a fleeting moment, before he realized what he was doing. Letting it go, he excused himself and walked away, hiding the tears forming in his eyes.

From afar, a lady in red with long, black boots watched the window to the apartment closely, planning on when to make her next move.

[charmikarma]

hallo it's me. (crookedgrifter) I'm back and I want your davejade / davejadekat thoughts. gimme

my thoughts huh ... i sure am a rambler so you're gonna get a whole essay on this

i guess in thinking abt davejadekat it always starts with jade. which is well enough because davekat has been talked to death at this point, hasn't it? i don't think i could tell you anything new or interesting about that dynamic at this point.

ANYWAY. jade. i kind of get into this in my polar express fic which ik you've read, but she is SO lonely. what the fuck are you supposed to do for ~10 years alone on an island with just a dog?? a dog who could take you somewhere else, somewhere with people, but he won't. and maybe jade knows why because of her dreams on prospit, but also maybe not! either way i think she puts a lot of faith in her dreams. it's kind of the only hope she has for the future.

i think she also has some hope in dave, this really cool dude she has this awkward internet middle school crush on. and dave is super cool to her too! i think it's implied he furry roleplays with her even?? cutest shit ever. i think this is the thing that has made me always love davejade ... they are just. so sweet to each other. dave clearly cares SO much about her.

the other thing about jade is... she's kinda fucked over repeatedly by the narrative, isn't she? she's the last beta kid introduced, so she has a lot less time to develop. the closest she really gets to developing is being really pissed off at karkat after her dreamself dies (i'll talk about this in a sec). her arc basically ends at cascade. her character arc ends in the dead middle of the comic, in a flash animation that contains exactly 0 character development. hussie says so himself in the author's notes. (don't even get me started on the author's notes jesus christ.) everything that happens on the boat is pretty much irrelevant, because it gets retconned out. instead she spends 3 years completely fucking alone, and we like... barely unpack this in canon.

so her life story up until this point is basically: raised by grandpa till ~3-5ish > living on her own till 13 > meeting dave briefly in the game > DAVE FUCKING DIES IN FRONT OF HER, WITH HER OWN BULLETS > she meets john briefly > JOHN AND DAVESPRITE FUCKING DIE > she spends 3 years alone with no solace except "yeah they had to die but you'll see them again in the new session" from alt!calliope and i guess a bunch of sprites and consorts and chess dudes. she says it herself: as nice as it is to have these folks around, they're not able to relate to her. they're not fellow thirteen year old kids. she may not be technically alone, but she is essentially alone, and she just 1. died twice in one day and 2. witnessed the deaths of several of her friends.

more on being fucked over by the narrative - jade actually has a kind of interesting dynamic with karkat in the middle of a5a2! what happens with this dynamic later on? fucking nothing!!!! like seriously i am so interested in this whole. self-hatred parallel that gets drawn between them and then how jade puts her foot down and is like you are fucking nuts. no more yelling at yourself. and it goes nowhere!! this dynamic exists for like, maybe 1% of the comic. it's really fucking sad honestly. even at the very end of homestuck, she has to be sidelined for being too powerful, thereby excluding her from all the endgame convos. like we cannot win with her

ok anyway, here's where i get into the stuff i think is really interesting. at the end of homestuck, alt!calliope tells jade that she's suffered enough, and that it's time for her to live her life how she wants to. we don't see how this plays out in homestuck proper, BUT...... the epilogues. sighs heavily.

i may be an epilogues lover but even i have to admit that jade's portrayal is.... a mess. i don't think it's wildly out of character, exactly, but it definitely toes the line... and it's definitely extremely fucking uncomfortable. it does, however, give me some insight into how i think about jade now, because while the minutiae don't really feel in character, i do think the broad strokes of what they were going for make sense.

jade took alt!calliope's words and said, fuck it. i will take charge! i won't wait anymore! i am going to have what i want. and she does get a lot of that! she gets to hang out with her friends, hang out with her brother, meet a ton of people, have a bunch of sex (presumably when she's older), and so on. but see... doing a lot of things doesn't really fill the emptiness she feels. she has so much love to give and not enough outlet for it. she needs all the love in the world and has nobody to give it to her. and she still has this big fat ten-year-old crush on dave strider that never went anywhere. but the approach she takes to life now is just... so incompatible with what dave needs. same for karkat. they both need a LOT of patience to come out of their shells, and jade is living life in the fast lane. the more she pushes, the more withdrawn they become. it is a disaster.

i want to fix it so fucking bad.

jade needs a lot of character development for all this to work, but the dynamic is absolutely there. some of their convos in early meat are so fucking funny dude, they are such good friends. it is absolutely not for lack of caring on either dave or karkat's part that things don't work out in the epilogues. it's this disconnect between what jade thinks is helpful and what dave and karkat need. i really want jade to find the balance between living at breakneck speed and waiting ten years for something to happen. i want her to feel loved for once in her damn life. and i want dave and karkat to stop being such depressing shut-ins. please guys you could balance each other out if you would just figure out how to communicate

anyway. there's your essay. it's mostly about jade. hope that's ok. i love jade harley so much my ultimate goal is to see her happy and mark my words i will figure out how

[somewosoloverrr]

hey! saw your post about requesting rory! :)

can u do a chilton rory x f!reader?

bunch of fluff in the beginning, rory and r just cuddling (r is smaller by like 5-6 inches) w forehead kisses and all bc yes

then during that time Emily and Richard come by unexpectedly for whatever reason and see them together. they don't approve of it and blah blah blah crying and drama and angst bc yes

it's up to you if you make them all good in the end I don't mind (I feel like they wouldn't b like this or would maybe warm up to the idea? I'm not so sure but I feel like Richard would be more supportive then emily but it's a ff and not canon so make them mean👍)

thank you sm! :) <<<333

Omg love this plot, thanks for requesting <333

Rory x fem! Chilton r

Tw: slight homophobia, yelling, angst, heavy crying, making out

p.s happy ending:))

Times like this, you felt so safe, so protected, like the whole world was at peace. Your head on her chest, your arms snaked around her her waist as her hands played with your hair. Out of nowhere she would kiss your forehead and you would grab her hand and kiss it return.

Both of you just laying on her bed as you watched a random movie.

Afternoons like this were the best, after an exhausting day at Chilton, coming to her house and simply cuddling, then after a long while doing your homework together and of course staying over as Lorelai absolutely loved you.

At one point the movie was getting boring which lead to many kisses on your forehead, so instead of just kissing Rory’s hand back you turned your ear around, resting propping your body up with one of your elbows. You looked into those ocean blue eyes and closed the gap between the two of you.

Rory smiled against your lips which made you almost melt into a puddle. You were about the break the kiss however the blue eyed girl pulled you back in putting her hand on the back of your neck, now your lips moving roughly against each other.

You then moved down to her neck quickly for finding her sweet spot as she let out a hum of pleasure. You made sure to not leave a mark as Lorelai would come soon and you didn’t want her to think you had done it when you hadn’t and weren’t going to soon, you’re relationship was healthy and none of you wanted the other for sex it was only pure love.

After finishing Rory bent her head down to kiss you once again, what the two of you didn’t notice was a very shocked Richard and Emily standing at the door of the room, which apparently you hadn’t heard when it opened.

Emily shrieked as she saw the two of you kissing, she knew you were Rory’s friend and were a very good student at Chilton she never expected this between the two of you.

Hearing a shriek both of you jumped away, leaving you to fall from the bed because of the shock. “Oh my God, grandma grandpa what are you doing here!” Rory exclaimed as she looked at her grandparent with wide eyes, they finally caught her, she had been so careful in keeping her relationship private.

You quickly stood up and straightened out your uniform as you looked at the Gilmores, your parents were good friends with them so you often saw them and they absolutely loved you. However now they had a bewildered look, it was like hatred coming out of their eyes and slowly making your way towards you making a chill go down your spine.

“We just wanted to surprise you, clearly I should be asking what the hell are you doing to my granddaughter!?” Emily answered Rory but now her attention was towards you.

Just like that you froze, Rory picked up your nervousness and took your hand bringing you back to reality. “Grandma.” She said looking over at her “grandpa,” she added now looking at Richard, “the person I’ve been dating this whole time was y/n… I get you’re not used to this type of relationship, but we’re really happy with each other and I hope you can accept us, accept me.” Rory finished, her voice breaking a bit, she was on the verge of crying, she he never been so scared of being accepted.

You carresed her hand with your thumb, hoping to relieve your girlfriend a bit. “No, I will not accept this young girl! A woman is supposed to be with a man not another woman! You’re just confused with friendship !” Emily yelled, this wasn’t right in her eyes, it was crazy.

A few tears came out of Rory’s eyes, how could her own grandma not accept her. “Miss Gilmore, please, I promise what we have is real. I really love your granddaughter and she makes me happy and I make her happy. Please don’t be mad, it’s true love, we just love each other, we can’t control our feelings, love is love…”

“Y/n i have known you for a very long time, I always thought you were a brilliant young girl. I can’t believe you would do this, and raising your voice at me how dare you! I wool speak to your parents about this!” Emily shouted at you anger completely taking over her as Richard just watched, the man wouldn’t even move.

“Hey do not talk to y/n that way! You know what grandma ? If you’re not gonna accept me then leave ! Just leave!” Rory defended you as she shouted back at her grandma pointing towards the door so they would just leave.

“Rory, don’t talk to your grandma that way.” Richard finally spoke up, you looked between Rory and her grandparents not knowing what to do, this was just crazy.

“Hey, hey, what is going on here?” Lorelai asked as walked in with her keys in hand. Thank God for Lorelai’s timing.

As soon as the woman saw her daughters and your puffy eyes she knew what was going on and immediately pushed through Emily and Richard and stood in front of the two girls. “I think you need to leave.” She stated calmly but clearly enraged.

Emily shook her head “Did you know about this? Your daughter and y/n were kissing when we arrived… they’re both girls and they’re dating how can you let tha-“

“Shut up mom. Of course I know about this, Rory and y/n have been going out for a long time now, and I completely accept this. Y/n is soo good for Rory, if you’re not going to accept your own granddaughter for who she loves. Then leave .” Lorelai cut Emily off not likening the way she treated her daughter.

“All of you are a disgrace, we’re leaving” Emily replied enraged, taking Richards hand and turning around. Meanwhile the man looked a bit sadly mouthing a “sorry” as he turned around following his wife’s lead.

The front door was slammed shut and the three girls stood frozen, Rory’s cries was the only thing heard. Y/n placed a kiss to Rory’s head whispering in her ear “I’m so sorry” and then grabbed her backpack.

“I gotta go, they’re gonna tell my parents- I’m sorry thanks for letting me stay over Miss Gilmore”y/n let out, her voice shaky as she made her way to Rory’s door not daring to look back.

“Y/n wait!” Lorelai shouted in hopes of her daughter’s girlfriend coming back but said girl was already outside.

[nevertheless-moving]

Stormlight AU 14, where kaladin manages to hold it together oathwise in words of radiance for a few more chapters, just long enough to out himself as radiant right after prison, because of course hes gotta fly and save everyone from bridge sabotage. Immediate cascade effect of radiant reveals.

Angsting over next week after prison. Shardplate and Blade possibly put on hold "too big a decision for him to just accept right away" "I just got out of jail and need some time to think."

People think he's insane but they thought that anyway

moash would be obvious choice - best friend/fighter but he still can't decide about elhokar assassination so the shards are just in very very valuable limbo...can he make it just general bridgemen Shards? No, too much training...

Joins shattered plains expedition as per canon

when the bridge collapses again what's he gonna do? Not save everyone?

Please.

Terrified officers start gently floating back up

Tries to lash shallan but she's already full of stormlight and it doesn't work on her. Moment of shocked, glowing eye contact.

there's a whole bunch of parshendi attacking so no time for kaladin to react to shallan falling or kholins to yell at kaladin

yes no time to deal with Dalinar. Kaladin has to do Very important flying thing. Uh...oh thank the almighty there's another army for him to fly at.

You KNOW bridge four had been storming Training a whole dramatic 'Captains Luck' thing. Bunch of gem pouches thrown in the air. Parshendi shouting as kaladin repeats the arrow drawing trick (sigzil is quietly pleased that after their practice, this time he throws the shield, as opposed to taking all those hits himself)

Adolin finally tore his attention away from the sky long enough to speak, dry mouthed.

"I take it by the..." he mimed the tossing of sphere pouches.

Storms, Skar had felt stupid practicing that, but Teft had insisted. And it was absolutely worth the weeks and weeks of extra weight, watching the Captain flying now. Jezrian's breath, when had he figured out flying? Lopen had said he had just started wall walking before prison. Had he figured out flying in prison? Oh, Brightlord Adolin was still talking.

"You all knew didn't you," Adolin looked amazed. "All of Bridge Four. I mean I knew there was something but - how in the Almighty's tenth name did you all keep this a secret? For this long!"

Skar and Drehy exchanged a glance.

"May we be blunt, Brightlord," Drehy finally said, watching as Kaladin swooped down low over the Parshendi, sending a few of them tumbling over to the next plateau, unharmed. Stormfather, he really was too good for this world.

"Please," Adolin said, gesturing emphatically.

Drehy hesitated, and they exchanged another look. Skar nodded at him, agreeing to take the lead, then took a deep breath.

"How in damnation did you not know??" His voice came out louder then he intended.

But storms, he had been waiting to say that for ages!

Drehy nodded eagerly, gesturing with the hand that wasn't holding his spear. "He storming glows!"

"I mean I know you were distracted during the tower assault- "

"Distracted?" Adolin sputtered.

"For a while I genuinely thought you knew but were keeping it secret for some stupid reason," Moash added, walking up. A small crowd was gathered around, attention pulled away slightly from the glowing man above and the retreating army.

"I mean," Moash snorted. "He formed a giant storming pillar of light while we were charging. You could see us charging. He was glowing like a herald for half the tower fight. No one from your entire army noticed?"

Dalinar coughed, sheepish look at odds with the golden gloryspren that kept flickering around his head.

"I... may have noticed a faint glow," he said slowly. "When he rescued me from the Parshendi Shardbarer."

The Blackthorn shrugged helplessly, looking at Kaladin, still high above. "I thought I was hallucinating..."

Why was he still up there anyway - Oh. Right. When he came down he'd have to deal with the lighteyes. Yeah, he'd stay up there too.

Adolin let out a short laugh, the hysterical noise seeming to escape uncontrolled. "You." He pointed at his father. "You saw a radiant in real life and your first thought was this is a hallucination."

Dalinar sighed. "I had hit my head. Quite a few times. It seemed more reasonable."

Adolin stared at his father, then laughed again. "You-" he couldn't get the words out over the chuckles. "Hallucinating-"

Adolin wiped his eyes, looking around. "Shallan would have something more witty, hold on."

He frowned, looking at the men who had been pulled from the chasm. They still glowed softly. Most looked shellshocked, and were holding something heavy. One of them was grinning, looking amazed as he waved his arms, bouncing off the ground, tethered by a bemused comrade.

"Where's Shallan?" He looked around more frantically, then ran to the Chasm's edge.

Skar let out a groan, and he and Drehy went after him.

"I don't think I saw her come up," Drehy whispered grimly.

Skar nodded back. Oh, there was going to be fallout for that. The Captain was always inconsolable when he failed to save someone, nevermind how many miracles he performed first - a bunch of lighteyes yelling at him was not going to help.

The Captain finally came back down, touching down at the chasm's edge just before Adolin arrived. Behind, he could hear Teft gruffly setting up a perimeter to keep onlookers back. The Highprince and the Queen's Mother pushed through of course, Renarin trailing behind. Storm's he hadn't even realized Renarin was there. Had he been running with the bridgecrew?

Skar's skin prickled as it usually did when he realized how outclassed he was was by the lighteyes around him. Almighty, the Captain most of all. He suppressed a small sigh of relief as Kaladin's eyes faded from a glowing whiteblue back to brown. He looked impassive at the Kholins.

Dalinar stepped up, opening his mouth to speak. A golden sphere spun to existence around him once more.

Kaladin turned to face him, hair streaming behind, looking for all the world like a Herald of Old, even without the glow.

Adolin interrupted. "Shallan," he said quietly, desperately. "She was on the bridge - please, I can't find her."

The Captain frowned and Skar's heart sank.

"I tried to grab her," Kaladin said slowly. "Lash her upwards. Everyone was falling too fast for me to do more....more than touch a hand to them."

"I'm sure you did everything you could," Dalinar said gravely, putting a hand on Adolin's shoulder. "I'm sorry son."

Adolin stumbled back, looking nauseous.

Kaladin shook his head. "No, you don't understand. It didn't work. She...I had to reach for another man who was about to hit a wall, but I think she was glowing. That she had already taken in Stormlight."

Adolin's head snapped up, eyes full of hope.

Kaladin shrugged. "If she's like me then...she's fine. It took me ages to figure out wallrunning, so I should still go get her."

He paused, looking off at air like he sometimes did. "Actually... I don't think most of the, uh, other orders could do the wallrunning and flying. So she's probably alright, I just need to go down and rescue her."

"What are you waiting for then?" Adolin asked eagerly.

"Son," Dalinar reprimanded. "More respectfully, please."

Adolin and Kaladin rolled their eyes in unison.

"He's still the same person," Adolin muttered. "I knew there was something strange about him."

Kaladin scoffed. "Yeah. You were right on my trail. Knew all about 'my thing with the stuff.'"

The prince brightened visibly. "And I was right! That's why you didn't want the Shardplate and Blade! You've already got your own? Or...do you have to earn it a certain way?"

Renarin sucked in a breath behind him. Skar glanced over, and saw the strange Brightlord's eyes wide with...realization, maybe? He was pretty hard to read.

The Captain, amazingly, smiled. "Something like that, princeling."

Adolin beamed, than smacked his hand to his face. "Thing... with the stuff! You need stormlight, don't you?"

He fumbled under his armor, before pulling out a small fortune in reserve Sapphire's in a pouch, tossing them.

Kaladin caught the bag, looking inside with a snort. "Well, this takes me back to how we met."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Doesn't matter."

The Captain still stood there, not breathing in, hesitating.

"Soldier?" Dalinar said. "Is there...some reason you don't want to rescue Brightlady Devar? The...other radiant?"

Kaladin let out a deep breath. "I...realize I've also been hiding my powers, so I don't have much ground for accusation. But I've suspected for sometime that she...might not be who she says she is. That she's dangerous."

Prince Adolin frowned, expression darkening as he crossed his arms. "We can figure that out once she's safe from the chasm. Now breathe in that bag and rescue my fiancee," he ordered. He hesitated, then blushed. "Please."

Kaladin sighed, then took in a deep breath, silvery white mist leaving the gems and filling the Captain with holy light. Awespren sprung up around them, and Skar knew that a few of them were his own. There were some things that you just didn't get used to.

With a salute, Kaladin stepped off the ledge, falling in a glowing streak of light. More awespren burst to life, but Skar just rolled his eyes. There were some things that you could get used to, and your commanding officer being a dramatic bastard was one of them.

continued here. also: other stormlight aus

[megamind2010]

Ladybug dies how

peacefully in her sleep at the ripe old age of 94 NAYYYYY IM SORRY

Assuming youre here cuz koby told you to come and yell at me for doing this and id like to say first of all im very sorry i just love tragedy soooo much. koby got really mad at me when i first brought up the idea and it also tortures me horribly too And we also talk a lot about the alternate universe where she doesnt die and instead she and casey just move to new york and hang out and get married and Chill Out

but in the "canon" ending im sorry yes nell dies (ducking rocks and bricks) IMMM SORRY! She's subject to the hereditary blue beetle curse of dying in a fight tragically young (she jumped in front of the metaphorical bullet for jaime on account of he's exempt because he has a much healthier support system than other beetles)

i'm a hack so i haven't really drawn or written anything concrete about it but how it goes down in my mind is your classic event/crisis where all the heroes are mobilised to fight off the annual universe destroying threat. this time it's aliens of some kind and while the league and the rest of the important guys are up there fighting or negotiating or punching the universe or however this particular one gets solved, ladybug is down on the ground in gotham helping to evacuate people and deal with some alien scouts/robots/etc that are menacing civilians. (casey has already been evacuated and is safely sheltering underground with a bunch of other civilians, being checked in on every now and then by some flash or another, & her general attitude is UGH Can you idiots get this sorted out so we can order chinese and watch real housewives...)

it happens while ladybug is getting a family to safety and an alien scout lands on the roof of their apartment. he ushers them downstairs and to his credit does a good job of holding off the attacker while the civilians get out of there - nell has no powers but is a very competent fighter and also is decked out with plenty of kordtech gadgets to help even the playing field :] but it's been a long day and she's so exhausted and there's only so much you can do when an alien shoots you in the chest with a laser and flies away and leaves you to bleed out

so there's nell with her communications down & unable to move & lying there staring at the sky full of invading spaceships and flying superheroes... if she could get someone's attention she might be okay but everyone is busy. it's a crisis! and nell knows that, she knows what this whole business is like, and she's been ready for something like this to happen for a while. nell is a very confident person but she isn't deluded about her own mortality... it's part of her personal philosophy that it's cruel to have too many attachments if you're likely to die horribly young (a mentality learned from the death of her mother and refined by the death of ted kord) so isnt it great that she doesnt have many friends? and that she's on okay terms but not super close with her family? and that casey doesnt actually care about her at all and wont be affected by her untimely death past the inconvenience of finding a new place to live?

lol

at the end of it all nell isn't really that upset about dying... they went out doing something worthwhile, they saved lives, they did the best they could with what they had, and they made a positive impact on the world while they were here. and that's about what he's always wanted to achieve so hey a+ work ladybug! obviously its not like he WANTS to die, theres always more to do, things he's going to miss... he'll miss talking to ted, working on gadgets and sorting through problems and making him laugh... he'll miss his family obviously but they'll be fine without him... michelle is someone she hadn't expected to get so close to, but she and ted both have booster to keep them on track

really annoyingly as she's closing her eyes the person who keeps coming into her mind though is casey. At this point nell is pretty aware that she cares about casey more than she ever planned or wanted to and has done a lot of mental gymnastics to convince herself that it's fine that nothing ever came of it (and now nothing ever will) and in her last moments she reassures herself that it's onesided and casey doesn't love her and he'll be fine without nell and You did a great job at not forming attachments ladybug that's why you're the best! but she can't help the surge of intense regret and fuuuuuck what if it was different and what if what if.........

here's my primo ladybug dying on a roof song

Nell's fatal flaw will always be her self-reliance and conviction that she's doing things the right way despite it all. if she bothered to communicate with the people in her life then she might be swayed on her views on love, or if she was less stupidly independent then maybe she would have been working with another hero and wouldn't have been in this situation. but that's tragedy i suppose, knowing how a character could have escaped their fate and yet having to accept that in this scenario with this set of rules there was no other way for this to happen

anyway if you'd prefer to think about nell alive and happy living in new york with casey then please do that. It's easy and free and it makes me smile

[epickiya722]

Y'all gonna hate me and I don't want you to, I do not. But it annoys me sometimes how quick I see some people call a mangaka of a Shonen misogynistic for something and it's like... do you know what a misogynist is?

Like, I can see a mangaka being a misogynist for killing every female character and none of the male characters.

I can see it if the mangaka doesn't develop any of the female characters and give them all the same personality and/or design (like body shape).

But... uh...

When a mangaka kills off a female character it's "misogyny"?? But then the kill count the majority be males and people act as if it's illegal for a female character to die in a story. You know, some creators are actually afraid to kill off women and girls because they're afraid the crowd will call them misogynistic for it even though just like men and boys we are human and can die, too??

Sometimes the female character killed off is a minor one with no development because it's not like she was ever important to the story anyways. And guess what? We have had male characters the same way, too. It's not that she was killed off for being female. She's killed off because just like her male counterpart, she was written to die off anyways. She isn't important just like the guy. It's not misogyny. It's storytelling.

People are quick to say "misogyny" when a female character doesn't have a huge backstory or little development, but are the same ones who have all this energy to write multiple fics giving a male character who already has a damn backstory in canon all this development and whatnot. What if she is a female character who isn't the focus of the story anyways? Sometimes, it's not necessary to give every character a backstory because of the story. Use your imagination. Where's that energy? Where?

Y'all can't be seriously the same people who can write a bunch of analysis posts on a male character and not on a female one when she has just as much as development or even more than the male one and then call the creator a "misogynist". You know how many Miruko analysis posts I have been able to write?! Just by reading one line or looking at one scene?! So it's not even impossible to do so with just little development. You just don't care to do it. You don't have to, but come on.

And the fans of a female character can be just as bad because some of y'all can only call a female a girl boss and "she's so attractive" and are hush-hush about her other traits her creator did give her.

A lot of Maki fans like to go "she's so attractive, she's so girl boss" but I question sometimes if any of you remember her backstory and why she's attending the school. Or do you just like her for being attractive?

Some of you were mad because she was sidelined for most of this arc as if she didn't get a whole arc to herself involving the Zenin clan. Hell, I say she got a lot more screen time than characters like Toge who we haven't seen in how long? Hell, we didn't get much with Noritoshi with his clan like that.

Also, uh, there are other characters? Like, I wasn't aware Gege have to stick to just writing one character. I wasn't aware, why no one told me. I thought when there's multiple characters you would want to write them all having some bit of screen time. My bad, I was mistaken.

For real, and I know someone will disagree and if you do, I honestly don't care. But compared to someone like Yuta, Maki feels more like a human character and not an accessory. She has been hyped as a character since chapter one. Megumi name drops her when comparing Yuji to her. Right there should have been a clue that Maki was gonna be a big character in some way.

Oh! And it's also "misogyny" if a female character is a villain or unlikable even though some of you yell "we need more complex female characters".

It's like with a character like Mei Mei. I already made a post about it, but I'll say it again. You say you want a complex female character, Mei Mei comes along and you want her to die. But there's been a lot worse male characters and you folks be drooling.

It's not that you want a complex female character because a story needs it. You want one so you have a female character to bully and hate on while you make heart eyes at and hype up the male one.

A mangaka isn't the misogynistic one for writing a female character like that, but it does feel misogynistic to act as if she shouldn't exist and be so quick to go "He's my husband" to the worse character in existence who is male.

And honestly, I don't see why any of you want more complex female characters like that to bully and hate on when you do it already to the less complex and/or good ones.

A mangaka is apparently "misogynistic" for not showing a female character for one chapter, but you don't even vote for her in popularity polls. Stop it now.

I think about how some of you complain about how Ochako is written and call Horikoshi misogynistic for it, but you folks be the same ones who can only seem to bring up her "crush" on Izuku even though she has been shown to have other capabilites and traits way before that moment.

Look, just say you don't like the writing. Sometimes, the writing can be a little wonky for male characters, but I don't see any name calling for that.

Overall, my point is learn when to say when a creator is a misogynist. A creator will deliver what you complain a female character is lacking and you ignore it and then claim "misogyny" if something bad happens like a female character dying. It's fair game, folks, in a story for female characters to get the same treatment as the male ones. It's not because of her gender, it's because she is a character. She just happens to be female.

If you don't like the writing, it's cool not to. No one is forcing you to. Sometimes, the writing does just suck. But it's just extreme as hell to claim it's misogynistic if it's not going the way you want to.

It's just annoying doing it when it comes to Shonen, especially nowadays where some of the mangakas actually have better female characters than years prior. Sometimes, the creators aren't afraid to treat the female characters like they're actual characters to the story.

There's going to be a lot of focus on male characters. There's going to be more developed male characters. But that doesn't mean there aren't female ones. There's going to be more male characters.

All this works in reverse with SHOJO.

At this point, watch that. But don't be that same person to complain about "so many female characters" or "underdeveloped male characters". Or probably you won't because will you see those creators as bad people the same way you do for people of Shonen? Or this is just a case where "It's okay anyways, he's male".

It is just astonishing that the same people who will call a mangaka a "misogynist" are the same people who actually don't really give a damn about female characters. Like, you either don't even have a female character you like and find all the male ones hot. Or if you do, you still don't really give a damn about her story and just like her for being attractive and a badass.

And it can't be "her writing sucks" or "she's terrible".

If you can like the blandest male characters and ones who have actually assaulted others, then it shouldn't be problem with female ones, right?

Just... stop throwing "misogyny" around especially over some damn fiction. Yes, a mangaka any one, any creator is capable of being a misogynist.

But y'all say it so much you're just muddling the word. There are cases where it applies, just not all the damn time!! There's more serious cases where the word "misogyny" applies. Like, real life issues.

It's going in the "overused and lost all meaning" word basket with words like "queerbait" and "toxic".

[hira492]

I loved this episode SO SO SO MUCH!! Crossdad (CANON)

BUt fr, it was everything I've ever wanted from Cross. Seeing how he is willing to let Omega take the lead after all his "that's what happens when you let the kid take the shots" stuff in season 1, and how he constantly tries to protect her. I love every little moment Omega had to stop that grown ass man from beating someone else to a pulp Lol. And just how the theme of "not abandoning" keeps showing up... Man. Cross really has the best character development ever and I love him so much.

I AM kind of mad at Hunter and Wrecker for the last scene BUT I'm 100% aware that is because I know what he has gone through, they do not. So, even though I would like them to hug him and just take him back, it's WAY more realistic to have them bicker and maybe fight before they reach a middle ground. They are brothers, maybe soldiers, but brothers after all and, as someone with siblings, I can say they are NOT going to resolve this in just one sitting. They are gonna act like complete assholes first and then they are gonna be okay, maybe not great, but okay. And slowly but surely they will get there.

I want to see them yell at each other. I want to see them all say what that year they've been apart has meant to them and then I want them to reconcile in a believable way. They are all stubborn and prideful idiots, but they love each other, even if sometimes they REALLY don't like each other. That's what being a brother is, tbh.

So, yeah, we're up for a whole bunch of angst, I hope.

[supercalime]

I can’t believe I found people who think about this the exact same way as I do. I don’t get these hardcore buddie stans who suddenly try to make it look like buckTommy shipper are the toxic ones. I haven’t seen a single BuckTommy shipper who was rude without a reason (maybe a bit defensive about their CANON ship). Whereas I’ve seen plenty of incredibly toxic buddie stans who insult everyone who doesn’t ship their ship or share their opinions.

Another thing and don’t get me wrong Im not defending anyone. But I’ve seen many people heavily bullying the marisol actress because she’s apparently homophobic (not saying she isn’t or is) and wanting her to be gone beacause of this reason but totally ignore the alleged racism of ryan (again not saying he is racist or not, i dont know them personally) just because he is part of their beloved ship. By their logic Ryan should leave the show too.

Hey anon, it took me some time to answer your ask (chaotic life stuff lol) but I’m glad to finally have time to talk about this first part with you.

I’ll preface by saying I won’t get involved in actor drama, no matter how true or toxic it is because I don’t have enough information nor am I qualified to talk about the issues they mishandled. I’ll just say that, no matter who does bad things, they should be held accountable.

Okay, back to the main point: yes, it’s very strange how b*ddie st*ns are behaving towards the canon bi!buck thing. Both with people who ship bucktommy but also with the creators and actors on the show. Regardless if they are right or not about b*ddie being canon, this is not how you act with entertainment, specially with the people giving the content.

I hate to bash but it looks and sounds a lot like a toddler throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get a specific toy.

And toddlers only throw tantrums because they are brand new humans who are learning how to behave. They don’t know any better so they react with outbursts and repeated demands because it’s the only way they know to get the attention of the person taking care of them.

If I’m not mistaken, the main audience for the show is 18-45. NO ONE here should be yelling in comment sections “we want buddie! we want buddie! we want buddie!” as if they would immediately get it. It’s not how it works and it’s frankly embarrassing to see a bunch of adults acting like that for everyone to see.

And I can’t stress it enough, I’m not putting myself on a high ground here and saying I’m a better person by shipping bucktommy, as I’m sure there might be a percentage of fans out there being rude and annoying as well. But at least I’m keeping my conscience clear by not acting like me shipping two characters is something big enough in my life to ruin my enjoyment of a whole show in case my favorite ship doesn’t become canon.

I hate how fandoms behave as if they can have control over the content they are consuming. We aren’t entitled to anything and if there is supposed to be ANY discourse about which character was supposed to end with, that should happen AFTER the show ended! The story isn’t over yet! So why are b*ddie st*ns so stressed? If a show is making you this angry and demanding, please step aside a little, give it some distance because that’s not how consuming content is supposed to make you feel.

And I say that last part with sincerity because I too got way too involved with fandom discourse in the past, to the point that I had to distance myself from certain shows because being that involved made me upset.

Im just tired at this point you know. Im trying to protect myself as much as possible. Im not in the bird app, I don’t follow the show or the actors on social media, im avoiding interviews like the plague. All I want from this experience is to watch the show, gather my thoughts, form my opinions, log onto tumblr and reblog the cute stuff I see about my favorite ship without having to worry about whatever the hell is going on outside my pretty little bubble

[quitealotofsodapop]

...Pigsy's/Bajies meeting

Several are like "You're a dad?!" to LMK Pigsy and then Xiaotian walks in.

Consider this (canon or au verse) bonus; Freenoodles reaction.

And ohhh LMK Pigsy would HATE IT

LMK!Pigsy is cooking up a storm while all these lazy (literal) pigs are loudly gorging and laughing like a bunch of soldiers on leave.

LMK!Pigsy ends up hiding in the kitchen for most of it until Smash!ZhuBajie (no canon rep in Smash Fighters yet so I'm thinking a chubby teenager) manages to drag him out to answer some questions about the LMK verse.

LMK!Pigsy is doing his best to spit out some answers and leave. He does not like being associated with (in his opinion) the laziest and most cowardly Pilgrim just cus of his pig-ness.

He's about to kick them out the restaurant demon-style until MK walks in from upstairs.

MK, covered in crayon and ink marks: "Hi Dadsy! Me and the other MKs are about to stick on a Monkey Cop marathon. I just came down to see how you're doing with the other pig dudes." LMK!Pigsy, griting his teeth: "We're doing just fine MK. I've had worse customers." MK, sensing tension: "K! Love you dadsy!" *hugs him before taking the empty bowls/plates to the kitchen to clean* The Other Zhu Bajies/Pigsys: *completely silent throughout the whole exchange* LMK!Pigsy, uncomfortable by the sudden quiet: "...What's the deal with you guys?" The Other Zhu Bajie/Pigsys yelling over eachother: "YOU'RE A DAD!?" LMK!Pigsy: "Well I'm... sorta his dad?? I helped raise him." 2000sCartoon!Pigsy: "With who?" LMK!Tang, walks past with an empy bowl of noodles: "You guys look busy so I'm just gonna treat myself, K piggy?" *smooches LMK!Pigsy's cheek + walks to kitchen." LMK!Pigsy, too lovingly distracted to tell him to pay: (˵ ͡~ഌ ͡°˵) LMK!Tang, passes MK in the kitchen: "Hey MK!" LMK!MK, brightly: "Hi baba Tang!" The Other Zhu Bajies/Pigsys: ԅ(☉Д☉)╮ LMK!Pigsy, back to angry-mode: "OK, whats with the staring?" Reborn!ZhuBajie: "You married your monk!?" Netflix!Baije: "I didn't know we could do that..." HeroIsBack!ZhuBajie: "Gross, isn't he like hundreds of years younger than you?" LMK!Pigsy, rage building: "For the last time... I'M NOT ZHU BAJIE!!" LMK!MK (yells from kitchen): "Yeah...! He's his decendant!" The Other Zhu Bajies/Pigsys: "WE HAVE KIDS!?" "I GET TO BE A DAD!?" "I hope our wives are hot." ( •́▽•̀) (•́▽•̀ ) LMK!Pigsy, groaning: "Ughh. You just had to tell them that, kid?"

Eventually Pigsy just manhandles all the Other Zhu Bajies/Pigsys into doing clean up duty. The next meeting is held in an open kitchen and he forces them all to learn how to cook his noodle recipe (cus one of the other dimension's MKs asked nicely about it).

[strawberry-forest-does-stuff]

aftg fancast hot take

okie so i wanna preface this by saying LITERALLY everyone is beautiful and when i say ‘ugly’ i’m talking about stupid, dumb, mostly western beauty standard

most aftg fan casts i see are a bunch of conventionally attractive actors but like you can NOT convince me the foxes are not uuugggllyyyyy! like i’m sorry their ugly. With the exemption of Kevin because he’s like the nation’s pretty boy. I have reasons for this i swear also:

They just are to me ok like they’re all ugly

Neil spent his whole life trying to blend in and he did it successfully so he prolly canonically looks pretty mundane

their dumb collage jocks— sorry

think about the Twinyards, they are paisty pale fuckers like i feel like every thing about them is unconventional

they’re foxes… they spent their entire lives struggling life can just be easier for attractive people with pretty privilege

just their vibes for me man

yeah that’s it. pretty dumb but i wanted to yell about it lmao