#hey ive been gone but this is worth it

[taesanluv3r]

forever muse

han taesan x reader

i needed to write something tht's target audience is me bcs ive been so so sad and need to feel better. friends to lovers <3 insecure and jealous taesan TT mentions of other idols as their classmates. cuss words, lowercase intended, ignore any spelling mistakes/grammatical errors! enjoyy :3

wc: 3,387

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"yn, this is crazy good! thank you so much"

kim leehan shoots yn ln a big smile, his hands holding onto a framed drawing of himself. it had been the kim boy's birthday and yn had gifted him one of her infamous hand-drawn portraits. it was a gift she gave to everyone on their special day, something she could whip up the night before and simply put inside of a wooden frame she picked up at her local art supply store. by the end of the year, almost every one of her classmates had received one. everyone except for her own best-friend, han taesan.

he doesn't understand why, watching with envious eyes as she stroked the loose ends of her hair behind her ear, grinning at the other guy's compliments. he couldn't help but notice the way the skin beside her lips dipped into dimples when she smiled, or the way her cheeks stained a shade of red darker than the cool-toned pink blush she had put on that day. a billion thoughts ran through his mind in that moment. it was his own birthday just two months ago, yet all he got from her was a card and a new sweater- which, granted, was the really nice sweater he'd been eyeing for a while and he was really thankful for it but still! couldn't she had taken the time out of her day to draw him the way she did others? was it cause he wasn't as pretty as the girls in their class? or maybe he just wasn't as handsome as leehan! or maybe she didn't care for him as much as he thought she did, maybe she just didn't want to waste her time and the ink of pen on him because maybe he just wasn't worth all of it and-

"taesan! you there?" the familiar female voice interrupts his rapid train of thoughts, his eyes widening slightly and his back straightening up. "huh? sorry, did you say something?" the boy asks and yn snickers, sitting down on her desk beside his. "no, don't worry about it. just wondering what you were zoning out about, that's all" he nods at her words, "it's nothing...i take it mister kim 'popular' leehan liked your little gift?" the obvious blush on her cheeks made his stomach turn, watching as she stared at the boy across the room from them. taesan rolled his eyes before she turned to look at him again. "i guess he did" yn smirked, a prideful look displayed against the features of her face. "well good for you" he replies, though his voice came off somewhat thicker and colder than it usually was. that, paired with the way he slammed his book shut and got up from his seat, left the girl confused by his sudden mood change.

"hey, where you going?" she asked, looking up curiously at his tall figure. he just shrugged, "i don't know, just gonna take a walk or something" the girl laughs, finding her friend's mysteriousness rather silly. "want me to come?" her eyebrows cocked up as she inquired, head tilted off slightly to the side. he shook his head, a single sentence escaping his pursed lips before he was out the door,

"i wanna be alone"

he disappeared into the distance, leaving his best-friend alone with the thoughts that began to swim into her brain. strange, she thought. the han taesan she knew was rarely ever this way- especially to her. sure, he looked mean and mysterious but even then he was never this cold. what's up with him?

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the bell had gone off and their last period of the day had started, yet the desk beside yn's remained empty. taesan hadn't returned from his walk. it worried the girl a little, her mind coming up with a thousand scenarios, unable to focus on whatever piece of the great depression her history teacher was trying to teach to the group of seniors. the girl's gaze moved towards the window that was starting to get wet from the sudden droplets of rain that had fallen from the sky. hope he doesn't get caught in the rain...he might get sick, she thought, wherever he is...

as soon as the class ended, the girl stuffed all her belongings into her bag, not really caring for the creases that might fold onto her textbooks. as she's about to leave the classroom, a voice stops her. "yo, yn! me and some of the others are gonna head to the froyo place...come with?" leehan smiles cheerfully at her, his perfect hair and his perfect teeth complimenting his perfect face, but the girl shakes her head. "sorry, leehan, i have something important to do. have fun though! happy birthday, again- bye!" she didn't even give the boy enough time to process her words before she was running out the door.

the girl skips through the whole school building in the speed of light, her eyebrows knitted together when she can't find a single trace of her friend. yn stands on the steps at the back exit of the campus, groaning when she can't find an umbrella amidst the rain that began to grow heavier. she sighs, swinging her backpack over her head, deciding to make a run for it. her feet take her to the entrance of the art building that was separated from the main one of the academy, her make-shift backpack-umbrella proving to be useless as she spots her wet hair through the reflection on the glass doors. yn ln pushes on it, her damp shoes making contact with the white marble floors and she entered the cool building. if i can't find him here...where else would he be?

she begins to walk up the staircase, a sense of comfort engulfing her body at the familiar scent of her favourite area in the whole school. her fingers graze softly over the collection of canvases displayed on the walls, a smile making its way onto her lips when she spots a piece of art of her own. it's odd, but the girl seemed to have felt a presence when she arrived at the second floor, his presence.

the smell of acrylic paint mixed with melted hot-glue entered into her nostrils, causing her to wince at the intensity of the scent. a minute goes by and she finds herself entering the empty art room at the very end of the hall, it was the art room she self-proclaimed as her own, one that nobody apart from her ever really used. her hand presses softly against the door, a creaking noise alerting anyone that happened to be inside- though it was rare, she just knew he'd be in there. as expected, the girl walks in and is immediately met with his familiar figure sat on the floor. his head titled upwards to look out the window, his knees to his chest and his hands resting on them. yn sighs in relief when she noticed that despite the rain he remained completely dry, like he'd been here the entire time when she was worried he'd wandered off elsewhere.

"i've been looking for you...even got rained on" her voice is sweet, like she just knew he wouldn't be up for her usual enthusiasm. han taesan didn't look at her, paying her no mind as he continued to examine the droplets that pitter-pattered onto the glass windows from outside. this confused the girl, the same way he did when he abruptly got up and out of the classroom hours ago, the same way he did when his words came out so coldly earlier. "what's wrong with you today?" she asked, starting to get annoyed at her friend's ignorance. he scoffs, "today?" he repeated, eyebrows furrowing as he turned to look at her at last.

"what's wrong with me everyday?"

his words take her by surprise, as did the way his voice cracked and eyes watered slightly as he spoke. it's a sight she'd never seen before. never in the years they've been friends would she have ever imagined she'd see han taesan...cry.

"what...what are you talking about?" yn asked, the empathy in her heart threatening to escape as little tears through her eyes. "it's just...i feel like you don't care about me the way you do others!" the boy's voice is clearer now, almost louder and strict. she's about to say something, but he won't let her. not until he's done. "i mean, sure, i'm not as handsome and popular as leehan. sure, i'm not as smart and punctual as class president jungwon! and maybe i'm just not as cool as hanni and minji- or as funny as haruto-" yn tries to interfere, "what are you even saying-" but even then he doesn't let her. "but i mean, i'm your best-friend, right? i'm the guy you're closest to...so why? why does everyone except for me..." he trails off in frustration, eyes moving from the floor to the ceiling, anywhere that wasn't a direct view of her. of the girl who stared at him with intent, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"why does everyone get a drawing for their birthday and all i get is a sweater and a card?"

the minute those words entered into her ear, a feeling of shock coursed throughout her body. a look of absolute disbelief present on her complexion as she let's out an exasperated sigh. "you're kidding me...right?" taesan fully looks at her again, confused this time. "i'm not" his voice is stern and serious, making the girl realize the weight of the situation. her features soften, a small smile returning to her lips as she looked into his teary eyes and sweet pout.

"you're so stupid, taesan...of course i care about you! just as much- if not more than anyone else" yn says, a giggle escaping her mouth towards the very end of her sentence. "then how come you never draw me?!" he exclaims slightly, eyebrows knitting together. this time, she fully laughs at his dramatic expression. "are you kidding?!" she asks, the same intensity in her tone. yn sighs before getting up, she fixes the wrinkles on her skirt and stretches an arm out for him to grab. the boy sits still however, only staring at her with eyes that resembled a lost kitty. the girl rolls her eyes, "c'mon! i need to show you something" she sighs once more when he doesn't budge. "fine, stay there. i'll bring it to you"

his eyes trail off to follow her as she rummages through a drawer over on the other side of the art-room. the side he knew she spent most of her free-time sitting in, running her pens and pencils over sheets and sheets of paper. he stares curiously at her when she pulls out a familiar looking sketchbook. yn closes the drawer, walking back towards the boy who was still sitting on the marble floor.

"here, look at this" she says, sitting beside him and handing him the book. taesan looks at her confused, "what? the sketchbook you always have your head in and never let me look through? you're really telling me to look at it? now?" she nods, "mhm! take it or leave it, taesan. this is a once in a lifetime opportunity" he shakes his head at her words but his fingers began to stroke over the leather material of the expensive-looking sketchbook's cover. he used both his hands to softly pry it opened, greeted with her messy scribble-like handwriting on the very first page.

'this book in your hands, the book i always use though if you looked into it you'd be confused flipping through the pages you'd find the same idea overused you'd find that only one person remains my forever muse.'

yn watched the way his eyes scanned over the poem she wrote, the confusion evident on his face as he tried to analyze the riddle-like clause. "your forever muse? if this whole book is a collection of drawings of kim leehan, i really don't want to see it" taesan says, scoffing in the process. the girl furrows her brows, "what are you talking about?" he rolls his eyes, "what do you mean? i'm obviously talking about your seriously obvious crush on mister popular!" her mouth falls opened in shock, "you idiot, i do not have a crush on that dork! never!" he chuckles, "you don't have to lie, yn...i understand it if you do...i mean isn't he just so dreamy?" he bats his eyelashes dramatically as he looks up at the roof, mimicking the way most girls thirsted over his popular classmate. she clicks her tongue before placing one nice big slap on the side of his arm. "ow! what was that for?" he whined, rubbing the spot that hurt.

"that's for being a fucking idiot...just look through the fucking sketchbook if you don't believe me!" her words are loud in his ears, a new voice of anger that juxtaposed the sweet tone she used earlier. it freaked the boy out for a second, sensing that he was wrong and obliging to her words. "alright fine...no need to yell" he said, fingers going back to fiddle with the pages of the book that now sat on his lap. he took a deep breath in, as did she, before finally flipping over to the next page. he gasps in shock, eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight before him. there, drawn in ink and pencil, the one thing that caused this whole scene to begin with. the thing he'd been longing for that he thought she never cared to make. it was a portrait of himself.

"what...is that me?!" the boy turns to face her in shock, suddenly questioning the reality of this situation. she snickers, "yeah, no shit! and if you could quit yapping and looked through the rest of the book you'd find a thousand more drawings of you" taesan lets out a laugh, wasting no time as he continued to flip through each and every page. yn watched the way the corners of his lips began to point upwards, his smile getting bigger and bigger after every drawing.

soon the ink-stained pages turned into blank ones, yet to be doodled on by the artsy girl. taesan shuts the sketchbook closed, turning to look at his friend with the fondest of eyes. "so you do care about me" he says, his voice sincere and warm. she laughs, "i care about you so so so much, stupid" he giggles, a giddy feeling in his tummy, "i mean obviously you do...a whole book of drawings of me?! you might as well just tell me you're in love with me!" he's laughing still, though he can't help but notice the way she had quieted down. did he say something wrong?

"hey...you okay?" he asks, a hand moving up to press softly against her shoulder. she's frozen, unable to utter a word. "was it something i said?" he continued, tucking bits of her hair away from her face. "what is it, yn? just tell me..." the boy was growing impatient, not really understanding what was going on in that little head of hers. she sighs, looking up at him again. "okay...but you can't be dramatic about it" she says, making him roll his eyes, "when have i ever been dramatic?" the girl glares at him, "taesan" he goes silent, "okay, i'm sorry, just tell me" she nods once, inhaling deeply.

"taesan, i think i kind of really am...in love with you"

han taesan gasps, his eyes as wide as the earth as those very words left her lips. yn watches his shocked expression, beginning to regret everything she just said. "fuck, i'm sorry. i shouldn't have said anything-" her rambling comes to a halt when his gleeful laughs serenade the room, confusing the girl for the millionth time that day. "why are you laughing?" she asked, unsure of what emotion she was supposed to feel. he smiles, "because i'm happy. don't happy people laugh?" his cheeks were dusted with a shade of pink, a similar colour on his lips that smiled warmly at her. "huh?" yn was still lost, everything that he spoke beginning to sound like a foreign language to her.

"i love you too, yn. i always have. i mean, why else would i be jealous of mister popular and all our other classmates?" the boy's words were natural, he spoke like he had no doubts and worries anymore. she looked at him with adoring eyes, eyes that were glossed with a layer of pre-mature tears. "oh don't cry, you idiot!" he said, his ears catching the silent whimper that fell out of her lips. "well then don't make me, stupid!" she whined, slapping him on the chest. taesan giggles again, pulling her into his embrace. "you're such a big baby, yn" he says, his teeth out for display as he grinned into her hair that still smelled of rain. "says the one who was literally about to cry because he thought i didn't care about him" she pushed herself off of his chest, a great big pout present on her lips as she glared at him like a child. he clicked his tongue, "don't look at me like that, yn" she's confused again, "like what?"

"like you want me to kiss you"

yn smiled, "and what if i do?"

the girl moves, getting on her knees and scooting closer to him. he adjusts as well, their faces inches away from each other now. his hands found home over on the sides of her face, her own ones soothing the skin of his neck. they stare at each other for a while, neither one of them making a move. yn gets impatient, one hand moving from the back of his neck down to the red tie beneath the collar of his school uniform. she tugs at it, sending taesan forward and crashing onto her lips. they kissed like they'd never again, an entanglement of tongues filling the otherwise silent room with lustful sounds. she giggles as they separate, gasping for air. their foreheads remained stuck together, her eyes never leaving his. he grins, leaning in to connect their lips once again. it was quick this time, a soft peck followed by about a dozen more.

"you're so handsome, taesan" the girl says, examining his features closely as she traced her finger over each one of them. "even more than leehan?" he asked, the envy still existing in his heart. she rolls her eyes, "a billion times more" the boy raises an eyebrow, "really?" yn looks up at the ceiling, as if she were making a really big decision. "maybe not a billion times more..." taesan frowns, his expression sending her heart to beat faster than a bullet train. "i'm kidding. you're a billion times more handsome than anyone ever" she assures, playing with the ends of his dark hair. "oh yeah?" he smirks, feeling proud again. "i mean duh...you are, after all..." yn trails off, pressing her forehead against his again.

"...my forever muse"

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"yn! so sad we missed you for froyo yesterday" kim leehan says as yn ln enters the classroom. she smiles, "yeah sorry about that, i had somewhere to be..." he nods in understanding before hopping off of the table he sat on and beginning to walk over to her. "that's alright, maybe you can come after school today? it'll just be us though...what do you say?" he had a shit-eating smirk placed onto his lips, confidently winking at the girl. she opens her mouth to answer but a familiar voice enters the classroom, interrupting her before she could even speak.

"the answer is no! and stop perceiving my girlfriend! she does not want you!!"

han taesan glares at the other boy, an annoyed look on his face as he wraps a protective arm over yn's shoulders. the girl sighs, slapping a palm over her forehead when leehan shoots her boyfriend a weirdened out look. the kim guy moves his gaze from the han boy and over to the girl, raising his eyebrows so as to ask for confirmation. she nods slowly,

"sorry leehan, my boyfriend asked me out for froyo today already"

the end.

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writing this made me feel so much better after ive been sad TT hope u guys enjoyed this <3 reblogs n feedbacks r greatly appreciated!! tysm for readinggg! love, kona.

[mondaymelon]

just this once. (scaramouche x gn!reader)

warnings/notes! sick insomniac reader, scara is a bit of a meanie in the beginning, fluff, implied suggestive content

(a/n) gift for kyoi!! ive been bribed to write this - also this is scaramouche, not wanderer! takes place before sumeru archon quest - requests are open at the time of writing this btw!!

epilogue in the tags!!

enjoy!!⋆｡°✩

________________________________________

"Idiot."

"Hey!"

"What? I'm not the one who's sick right now. Only idiots catch colds." Scaramouche sneered at you, dark violet eyes gleaming cruelly.

"I've got a fucking weak immune system!!" Protesting, you crossed your arms and pouted from where you lay buried underneath the blankets on your bed.

"As a puppet, all I can say is that human bodies warrant more trouble than they're worth. As far as I'm concerned, you're the one who has the lacking side of the bargain here." Scaramouche rolled his eyes at your antics, only laughing quietly to himself when you abruptly sneezed.

Sniffling, you glared up at him. "Ugh, seriously? I'm sick right now, can we just..." You gestured your hands wildly, not exactly sure what point you were trying to prove. "...not?"

"As if."

"Be roommates with Scara, they said... it'll be fun, they said..." Cursing under your breath you sighed dramatically. "Who am I kidding right now??"

The Fatui Harbinger just stared at you, a smile playing at his lips. "Go on, it's fun seeing you so worked up over nothing. Ah~ truly. Why go circuses from Fontaine when you already have such a dramatic show in front of you?" Scaramouche let out a bout of laughter, only pausing when you sneezed yet again.

Groaning loudly, you flopped back onto your pillow with a soft thump. Scaramouche watched your movements as if he had nothing better to do.

"So... are you just... going to stand there? Ominously?" You sent a pointed look at the violet-haired man, arms crossed, eyes half-open and staring down at you.

"Maybe I will."

"Whatever then. Goodnight." You turned over, gripping your plush blankets with one hand with the other propped under your head while you tried not to think about Scara's burning gaze on you. And although you were tired, tired was an understatement, you couldn't find it in you to fall asleep. Either it was the Fatui Harbinger standing by your bedside and seemingly waiting for you to fall asleep, or maybe it was just your insomnia being a bitch. Your heart hammered in your ears. Why now, out of all times, had you had to get sick?

"Hey. You okay?"

What was that?

"Turn around for a second. I can't see your face." There was a note in the man's voice that you had somehow never heard before. The sneering tone was gone, for once and it had been replaced with someone a lot more mild.

"...Okay." Turning around, you felt your face flush at the sight. Some time had passed, and now the bright moonlight streamed into the room through the windows on the adjacent wall. Scaramouche stood there, chin slightly lifted, gaze unwavering, his hair ruffled lightly and an almost worried expression on his face.

...worried...?

Scaramouche leaned forward, brows furrowing at your red face. Gently cupping your cheek, easily taking you by surprise, he frowned slightly. "You're burning up."

"W-What-??"

"Stay here. Don't get up or even try to move or you will overexert yourself. I know your limits far more than you do." Scaramouche pressed a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. However, his eyes were still uncharacteristically soft, expression weary, almost. He was acting so... soft. And it was almost scaring you. "I'm going to get you an ice pack and something to drink."

Not really sure how to respond, you just nodded.

Scaramouche smiled at your reply. And it was strange. Really, really strange. Bursts of something you couldn't exactly decipher spread throughout your body, lighting up something in your heart. It was hard to describe, as much as it was hard to feel it. As soon as you had broken out of your daze, the harbinger was already gone.

So, you sat there, and waited.

And before long, he was back. This time, carrying a little wooden tray with two cups on it. One for you, and on for him. You didn't even know Scaramouche was capable of acting like this. You gratefully accepted the cup, sipping the drink happily. It was on nights like these that you truly were able to appreciate how lucky you were.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm. Thanks... for well, everything you've done for me tonight." You beamed at him. Your fever had gone down, and now the night air felt cold on your skin. You were in a Fatui encampment in Shneznaya, but the only thing it made you do was make you long for the warm afternoons of Liyue.

Scaramouche had pulled up a chair - when, you had no idea. He silently nodded before trailing his gaze back up to you.

"Still can't sleep?"

"Ah... well..." You let out a sheepish giggle, placing your now-empty cup on the nightstand beside your bed. "You know how it is. I have trouble falling asleep."

Scaramouche stayed silent at that, and didn't say anything. You had begun to think you had somehow offended him, and he was thinking up of ways to dispose of your body before he finally spoke again. "Are you cold?"'

You nodded truthfully before saying, "It's only to be expected, though. Even with the Fatui's high technology heating systems, Shneznaya's permanent winter just can't be beaten." Shivering, you huddled up the blankets on your bed tighter.

"Then...

...Can I sleep with you? Just this once?"

Caught you off-guard was an understatement. A severe understatement. You stared at Scaramouche, who was busy examining the floor, face flushed. "...Can you repeat that?"

"Ugh- You-!" Scaramouche cut himself off, face red. "I'll sleep with you. Just for tonight."

...scara's blushing. "Why so flustered?" you jokingly retorted, somewhat enjoying the current situation.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Hmmm~ well, you'll have to give me some time to decid-"

Scaramouche didn't let you finish. He rushed forward, holding your shoulders in his tight grip as he fell onto you. Strands of hair framed his face in a picturesque manner as you stared up at him from where he had you pinned on the bed. Not even letting you stop to breathe, he pressed your wrists above your head and into the mattress, your eyes widening as you felt a warm pair of lips meet yours. He stole your breath away as he pulled back, glistening eyes dilated as he smirked down at you. His usual expression was beginning to dawn back on his face as he leaned into you and whispered into your ear:

"I don't think you'll ever have trouble sleeping again."

masterlist ✩

[modelbus]

hi!!!!! im new but ive read a lot of your work and its amazing!!

anyway, i was wondering if you could write a either hurt comfort or childhood friends to lovers, as a cc!tommy x fem!reader ?

it would mean a lot thank you !!! 🩷🩷

Why not both? Cue evil grin, mwahaha ;) ALSO! I’m back with that mcyt stuff!!

Pairing: Cc!Tommyinnit x Fem!Reader

Fighting Friends

You’ve known Tommy for as long as you can remember. Apparently memory formation starts when you’re about 6, so you knew there was a time before him, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.

There’s a photo on your desk, framed with a cheap plastic frame. Both of you as kids, him wearing sunglasses and holding a Nerf gun up to your head as you’re caught in the act of stabbing him with a foam sword (he shot you in the forehead after the photo). The picture just about sums up your guys’ relationship. It doesn’t need to be worth a thousand words, just two: fucking chaos.

Or, that’s what you two normally were.

It was a stupid argument, even you knew that. A silly remark you took too hard, something that stung too deep. He said it during a vlog, too. A quip about rather dying than dancing with you. And with those few words, you stupid crush-addled heart shriveled up and was shot through.

So you had retaliated with a poor jab, and he didn't get it, and it all blew up in your faces. To the point where your messages have sat empty for three whole days. There's no "GET ON MC" message from him, no impromptu "Movie now." Just pure radio silence.

And you hate it.

You loved Tommy. Adored the hell out of him, unfortunately for you. And not just because you had a traitorous little crush. He's your best friend. The type of person you always knew would be there.

Right up until he wasn't.

It’s funny how much colder it seems to be now that he’s gone. Winter’s blowing in, like it was just waiting for him to vanish from your life before taking over. It leaves piles of snow that you dredge through to get to your favorite cafe, braving the wind chill just for a semblance of comfort.

You used to go here nearly daily with Tommy, making you dependent on the warm atmosphere that you haven’t been in since five days ago. Have you mentioned how much you hate fighting with Tommy? The disruption to routine, the fucking ache in your heart…

It’s a bit pathetic, honestly. But that’s simply what you are without him. One half of a soul.

The bell chimes, and you drag yourself over to your normal table and pull out your laptop. Even when your world stops, the actual world keeps spinning, meaning you have work to do.

“Hey sweetheart. No shadow?” Your head jerks up, instinctively smiling at Laura, the aged worker who always serves you.

“Not today.” You sigh. “He’s… busy.”

“Too busy for you?” Her eyebrows raise. “That boy will show up eventually for you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, trust me, hon. He’s got those eyes when he looks at you.”

Hell if you know what that means, but you smile at her anyway.

“Want your usual?” She asks.

“Just a water.” You shake your head, the idea of a hot chocolate without Tommy seeming just sad.

Laura nods then heads off as you turn your attention back to your laptop. In the bottom right corner a Discord notification pops up from Wilbur, but you ignore it without even reading the message. You can respond to him later, which you’ll probably do at night while in bed. Procrastinating sleep, per usual.

A mug is set in front of you—definitely not water—making you look up at Laura in confusion. Hot chocolate, complete with your usual whipped cream.

“I—“

“Someone else ordered it for you.” She answers before you can even ask, a sparkle in her eye. Before she steps away, she leans closer and whispers, “I told you that boy adores you.”

Your eyes scan the surrounding area, seeing Tommy almost instantly. Blond hair messed up, his favorite hoodie and jeans on. He makes his way to you, looking sheepish.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out the second he’s close enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Laura step away. “I was an idiot, and I shouldn’t have said half the fucking things I did—“

“At least sit down.” You interrupt, knowing damn well he’d stand there and apologize all day.

Almost instantly, he drops into the chair across from you. You quietly close your laptop, leaving the two of you staring at each other in awkward silence.

“You ordered me hot chocolate.” You say just to break the quiet.

He ducks his head. “You always get it.”

The acknowledgment that you didn’t want to get it without him hangs in the air.

“What’ve you been up to?” You ask politely. Small talk is strained and stupid; you’ve never had to do this with him before.

“Recording and shit. Made a mod video with Schlatt and Wil and Jack. You?”

You drink your hot chocolate while the two of you talk, the argument hanging heavy over your heads like a storm cloud. When you finish the drink, there’s some unspoken consensus that you’ll leave together, him stepping ahead to hold the door for you.

“I scrapped that vlog, by the way.” He’s saying, referencing the one you had filmed with him. “Wasn’t enough content to put in a video.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, frowning, knowing that it was your argument that had made it such a short filming session.

“Why the fuck are you sorry?” He asks, staring at you like you’re an alien. “I’m the one who made that argument a whole fucking thing.”

“You?” You echo. “That was definitely on me, I was so snappish!”

“Bullshit, I started it!”

“In what fucking world did you start it? That was me, Tom, I acted like a little bitch about that one—“

You’re silenced by something, warmth covering your lips before it’s gone as quick as it was there. It’s not until he’s four steps back that you realize what just happened.

He kissed you. He fucking kissed you.

“Fuck— I didn’t— I didn’t meant to do that!” He exclaims, eyes wide. “I mean— Wil told me to just go for it, but I told him he was fucking insane man, I didn’t— I keep fucking this up, don’t I?”

“…so that was an apology kiss?” You ask, confused.

“What? No! I meant I was sorry for kissing you without, Y’know, asking.” His cheeks flush, and it’s not until someone shoves past you that you realize you’ve both stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

“It’s… it’s fine. Okay, I mean.” You say, almost positive your cheeks are the same shade as his.

Tommy nods. “So I didn’t totally fuck this up?”

“I think you fucked it up a long time ago, Tom. I’m doing charity work sticking around you.”

He laughs, elbowing you as you start walking. “I’m the one doing charity work! I’m a fucking millionaire, you should be paying to be in my presence!”

“Oh, yeah, you kissed me for charity too, huh?”

“Wha— well I— that—“

You laugh loudly, having to look away from him to catch your breath. This was your Tommy, this was what you missed.

“Oh, you asshole!” He groans. “Fine! It was fucking charity, how about that?”

Shrugging, you can’t help your grin. “Just don’t make it charity next time.”

His steps falter, but when you look over at him he’s beaming. “Deal.” He announces, but doesn’t make a move to kiss you again.

“…are you not going to—“

“I have to surprise you. That way it’s fun.”

Oh boy.

[hellowoolf]

on strawberries and masonry: chapter iv

series summary: you atone for your sins, now, in a jackson garden, learning to care for soft things and yourself. joel miller is a lethal sort of similar, and misery loves company

OR

you live in jackson and meet joel and you’re both damaged little babies and fall in love (but i’m drawing this shit out🫶🫶)

warnings: angst, age gap (reader late 20s/early 30s, joel 50s), mention of killing, mention of knives, SMUT, thigh riding/dry humping (…), fingering, pussy eating, some feelings…. (as always, let me know if i missed any !!)

word count: 5k

authors note: and so here's the thing about this is that-🏃🏼‍♀️💨💨

series masterlist | masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you wake up with a tug between your legs and your hand around your throat. you smile at the space of your room; you fucked joel yesterday. he was unflinching and hard, concrete under your inky wetness, but you walked away leaving him stained, you know, and this is enough. at last, you feel you’ve marked him just as irreparably as he has you (you cannot linger on this thought for too long).

you killed yesterday, too. sliced someone open at your feet just as you did all those years ago, left the body to rot with the rest of the mold outside jackson’s walls, and the ease of it certainly should frighten you, but the great lifting of your fuzzy secret from your shoulders lightens you as you pull yourself out of bed. joel knows the whole of you now, and in your first moments of consciousness this morning you can admit that the bareness of that pleases you. 

you’re off patrol today, jesse insistent on beginning his rounds, so he and noah have inherited your and joel’s route for the day; maria figured the early light would make the induction less horrifying than it is. you want joel again, you think, maybe once the sun’s gone down, and move through your kitchen on your first free day in months.

of course, joel has always seemed attuned to your most secret thoughts, and so when you open your front door to greet your little fruits in the morning sun—you did this so little, these days—he’s there, waiting for you. the curls of his hair reach out every which way and you want to run your fingers through them again like you did yesterday, but he looks worried, almost frantic, so you refrain. there’s mud cupping around his boots and track marks behind him in the newly thawed dirt, like he’s been walking circles outside your doorstep.

“hey, are you o-”

“can i come inside?”

something in your stomach turns over. you step aside to let him through. he paces across the floor, hands tightened into balls and then running over his jaw.

“listen, baby, i been thinkin and i don’t think we can do that again. what we did yesterday. i…you’re tommy’s friend, and ellie likes you so much, and you’re half my goddamn age i mean, jesus.” he says all of it with his back turned to you, but spins to face you, now. “we go on patrol and i…i don’t mind your company, really, but it can’t, i can’t. we can’t.”

joel is sort of winded with the words. you flare up, first, with a searing anger—you’d murdered and confessed and given yourself to him, and it’s taken joel all but 12 hours to decide none of it was worth it. and it was so good, you want it again without compromise. you flinch to lash out, to yell and scream and plead with him.

but then you think of baby. baby. baby is an artifact of the act of yesterday, of him inside you and the stretch and the warmth. despite the rest of it, you know you have him, with baby you have him. so you allow him this moment, allow him to believe himself righteous and you willing to let it go.

“okay, sting. it’s fine.”

because he knows you—an unintentional mistake, but one that will kill you someday, surely—he looks unconvinced. “fine?”

you hum. joel’s knuckles are white with the fists he’s formed at his sides, and you’re certain if you asked him to open them there’d be crescent marks in his palms. you almost break, looking at his tightness there, almost grin at him and laugh that it’s inevitable he will fuck you again, it’s inevitable. but he looks so disconcerted here, a few steps from your doorway. you nod, solemnly, wetness collecting between your legs thinking of when he’ll take you next.

“yeah, joel, come on, i’m a big girl.” he rustles. “it doesn’t have to be a big deal. we can forget it happened.” no we can’t. and it’s your internal dialogue, but joel seems to hear it, too, because he rocks back and forth on his heels, waiting, it seems, for you to convince him further. you say nothing, shifting your weight onto one leg. he nods, to you and himself, and gulps down a sigh.

“alright,” and then more sure, “alright.” he walks to your door, half-turns his face to you with a hand on the knob. “thank you, darlin.” 

once he’s gone, out through the door with his musk wafting down your hallway, you consider yourself, and the mud he tracked inside. you know he’ll seek you out again, from how off-put he seems with you now, and the way he twitched in his jeans, but still, a part of you bleeds, wounded at his attempt at rejection. what is wrong with you? it is strictly physical, you repeat to yourself for the millionth time since he came back to jackson. you think of leaving the dirt he streaked on your floor, a reminder that he came for you, but this is precisely the fear, the fear of wanting him for more than what he can give you, and so you move to wipe it up. you figure that joel is likely right; however this ends, it will be widely destructive and perhaps unfixable. but you’re right, too. it felt too good, and you’re both too unforgivable, to feign goodness now. something like giddiness bubbles up in your stomach—even against the doom you’re so adept at conjuring and the deep shadows joel casts, you’re eager, elated, thinking of him and how he touched you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the next day, you and joel return to your rounds like normal. like normal. almost normal. you talk at him from horseback, call him sting because you felt how it made him harder against your dripping seam, and he grunts responses back at you, doing his best, you feel, to believe in the normalcy. 

but he watches you. you suppose he might have always eyed you this way, but it’s more feral now, unconcealed. you catch him glancing at your ass as it bounces on the saddle, the curve of your neck when you lean down, the grip of your fingers on the reins. your arousal grates at you, screams from your cunt and up your spine, and you hush it with tenderness. you will be sated again. 

“so you heard about tommy and maria?”

joel bristles a little. “yeah, i did.”

“what, you aren’t happy for them? have a heart, sting, he’s your brother,” you smile.

he gives you a tight lipped grimace back. “yeah, and he’s irresponsible, thinks himself a fuckin hero.”

“no, not a hero. he knows himself too well to think that. he’ll be a good father, you know that.” joel stays quiet, and you look him over on his horse. the breeze makes space for the ghost he saddles up with, the one you’ve yet to meet. he is so brittle, always, but you remember how he’d asked where to touch, how intent he’d been on gentleness, at least at first. so you say, “you’ll be a good uncle, i think.”

joel looks at you surprised, and then down at his hands. you’re learning the language of his face; you watch him turn his hands over, reins slung through them, the both of you measuring their size. you’re slapped across the face with that devastatingly terrible want to hold him, the one you felt when he came to you about ellie, though you can’t bring yourself to cut through it as mercilessly as you did then.

“i hate to be the one to tell you, but you aren’t as horrifying as you think you are.”

this shakes him, but so too does it brush some of the mournfulness from his shoulders. joel looks back up at you, a little amused and a lot guarded, and says, “yeah? is that what i think?” he’s deflecting, shielding himself with your shared sexual tension, but you let him.

you hum, grinning. “mhm. you walk around like you’re this big awful beast.”

“i think i might be.”

“well, there are worse things to be.”

joel snorts. you think he likes when you criticize him. “and you’re the authority on this, huh, darlin?”

you twist a little in your seat, your own wetness more insistent. you do your best to smirk, look unaffected, defiant. “yeah, i think i am.”

he shakes his head, smiling more in earnest, trying to keep the ends of his mouth down. “you’re somethin, baby, i’ll give ya that.”

the pet names seem to come naturally now, coming and going as they please, and you notice him shift in his saddle. you know he’s just as coiled up as you are now, can feel the buckle of his body under the memory of you beneath him. you urge yourself to be patient, to wait him out, bate him to you, and let silence fall over the both of you as you trot back down to jackson, hoping the quiet soothes the sparkling ends of your open wiring.

it’s not until you dismount in your horse’s stall, saddle shucked to the side, and walk out to meet joel outside the stables that you’re struck with how immediate the inevitability you’re both playing with is. 

he notices your limp—slight, nearly imperceptible to anyone other than him, and far better than it’d been the day before—only as you pad over, his side leaned against the doorway. you make it to him, his features strung together and mouth open slightly, and with frustration that teeters on offense he says, “why are you walkin like that?”

you look down at your legs and back up at him. you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy. “walking like what?”

joel rubs a hand over the side of his face and huffs, lowly and enunciative, “you know what the fuck i’m talkin about. why are you walking like that?”

you know you won’t get the words out properly, so you keep your eyes on him and stay silent. he brings a hand to grab around your jaw, and it reminds you of that night on his porch with the strawberries, but this time he keeps it there, squeezes, inspects the push of your skin. he whispers a goddamnit, mainly to himself, and then pulls your face closer to his and you breathe into each others mouths.

“this real? are you—fuck—are you fuckin limping? or are you tryin to set me off?”

you don’t hesitate. “real.”

joel nearly growls at you, and gives your head one last tug before he drops it. “let’s go,” he grits out, and starts storming towards what you know is his house. a shudder runs through you and you feel yourself clench around nothing; a part of you makes to refuse him, to decline to follow behind him like you need him for the sake of stubbornness and point-proving. in the end, though, you let yourself be led, for the knowing that you’re pulling at him in someplace irremediable.

as soon as you walk through his door he’s got a paw on your bicep, pressing his fingers deep into your flesh, and another at your throat, holding lightly to keep your head close to his. you push your face forward to feel his tongue in your mouth, but he ducks his chin back as he hauls you to the couch in his living room, giving you a satisfied mm-mm and a shake of his head. he sits himself in the center and pulls you down onto one of his thighs, running his hands up and down your sides, under your ass, up around your tits, pressing and pulling. you duck your lips down to his again but he catches you by the throat.

“no kissin this time.”

you whine in response, but he presses his thigh up and the friction on your clit through your clothes makes you mewl. you drag your cunt, soaked through, along his pant leg, and tip your head back with a moan. “i thought you wouldn’t fuck me again,” you say, breathy and mainly to his ceiling.

joel groans watching you, pulling your hips back and forth along his thigh. “an’ i won’t.”

you grip his shoulders and glide your pussy on him, hoping he feels the wetness and unbearable heat there.

“but-”

he lets a breath out hot along your collarbone and you arch further into him. “but nothing. keep going. make yourself come on me,” he pants.

you’re sure you’ll draw blood, even through his coat, with your hold on his shoulders. your moans grow high pitched and loud, wrecked, as pleasure pulls through your limbs and swirls around your clit. and it’s so good, but your self-destructive insistence still finds a way out, between moans letting out “joel, i-” but joel moves the hand on your throat to your jaw, pulling your mouth open with his thumb and pushing the tip in. you swirl your tongue around it, accepting silence and accepting him at last, and he moans wildly as you suck on his finger.

“please darlin, just give me this, just let me watch,” and he sounds so fucking desperate you can’t help but move faster, pressing yourself further into his leg and feeling the dampness you leave in your wake. you move like that, his thumb in your mouth and watching you, intently and mercilessly, while you pant and mewl with your clothed cunt rutting along his jeans, until you feel your orgasm tapping down your shoulder blades. 

“jesus, darlin, you’re soakin me, fuck, you see that?”

you nod, his thumb corking any foul response you could possibly throw back at him.

“you need it that bad? sweet thing,” he purrs into your neck.

from around joel’s finger, you moan, “oh god, joel, i’m gonna come.”

joel grunts and groans back at you, “that’s it, baby, make a mess, fuck.”

you go tight and press further into him, thrusting faster and harder, and you’re so close when you realize he’s tipping his hips up and twitching as he moans, and oh fuck he’s coming from watching you. you spasm as you come, screaming into his skin as he pushes his thumb further down your tongue. the taste of his hands, the hardness of his cock as it presses into your leg when you thrust forward, the spreading heat from his come in his jeans, all of it twists you up, hot arousal dragging through you until you’re spent.

you both pant, clothes trapping your come to your body and his to him. he lets himself one deep breath in of your scent, running the curve of his nose through the light sheen of sweat glistening down your neck, before placing you next to him. he’s delicate with your body, limp and all limbs and elbows, as he sets you on the cushion, but still you feel him deflate. you’ve returned to that place at the edge of his bed, of his drowning in self-condemnation and your straining to keep him afloat.

“joel, let’s not do this again, it’s fine, you’re fine, i’m fine. what’s wrong with this?” it comes out lighter than you intend, voice still narrowed by your fading orgasm.

he clears his throat of something thick and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, but he’s not as decisive as he was that first time, and a piece of you lifts. “so much.”

“you’re just being combative now.”

he laughs, then, sort of delirious, but your cheeks warm with it anyway as he says, “it’s like i…” and then he raises his head to peer down at you, “i can’t help myself. i don’t know.”

you sigh. “are you planning on trying again? to help yourself?”

he looks around the room, mostly untouched despite your coming. “i guess so.”

you nod, brushing your pointer finger down his bicep. he doesn’t flinch. you find you aren’t angry at him, what with the overwhelming sense that it’s unnecessary. there’s a resignedness about him, one that’s unbiting and soft; it will give under your fingertip, if you push it. 

“okay. come find me when you give up,” you say, and there’s no malice in it. he leans back on the couch and runs a knuckle down your hand splayed between you.

“alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

by the time joel looks for you again, you’re altogether impressed—he held off, this time, for a whole 48 hours. when that soft spot you prodded two days earlier finally caves in, he comes to bang on your door in the near twilight darkness. you let him in, and he insists, repeats like a hymn into your stomach as he gets on his knees, that this ain’t fucking either, and pulls your jeans off.

you don’t tell him it’s your first time having your pussy eaten; in your experience, men find the end of the world a wholly viable excuse for avoiding it. the lack of it hasn't bothered you until he presses his face into your cunt, swirling his tongue around your clit and anchoring his hands on your hips.

“oh jesus fuck oh my god, sting,” you moan, still pressed up against the wall by the door. you pull on his hair to grind yourself further onto his face and he groans into your skin “so good, darlin, so good.”

joel laves his tongue over your clit, circling and rolling it on his taste buds. you’re screaming, and hitch a leg over his shoulder. “fingers, joel, please.”

you feel him smirk, frenzied, into your cunt, tongue and teeth still eating at you there, mumbling, “say it again.”

you whine, “please, please,” but he shakes his head, and the friction pulls your spine from the wall into an arc in the air. your toes curl as the heat of his mouth spreads from your pussy through your body and you know you’ll be close soon, but you want to feel him inside. “i’ll say it as many times as you want me to, fuck, please.”

“my name, my name, say it again,” he corrects, sounding about as lost as you are.

you respond immediately, pleading, “joel, joel, joel, please, your fingers, joel,” and as he growls at the sound of his name in your mouth he pushes two fingers into your aching sex. you feel your cunt swallow them whole, pulsing and buzzing around them.

“jesus, so fuckin tight.”

you dig your heel into his back and he thrusts his fingers faster, stroking your walls and reaching for your cervix. the sound of you, around his hand and dripping down his wrist, makes you both rasp out something unintelligible. you try to mewl out something like i’m so fucking close, and joel seems to understand, nodding slightly. as you tug tighter on his hair and pleasure comes roaring at you, world humming and white as you gush, joel pulls his fingers from you to position his mouth under your hole, pushing his tongue in and out of you. you scream, at him and yourself, that it’s so good, and he moans in agreement, lapping up everything you give him. 

when it’s over, you slump slightly against the wall, and he leans back on his haunches to assess you, naked from the waist down and barely standing. he looks down at the fingers he pulled from you, wetness shining here, and then back at your bare thigh. without a word, he begins to bring them up to your skin.

“joel, what are you-”

he looks possessed, almost, unresponsive, as he wipes his fingertips across you. you look down, light catching where he’s touched you. J. the sight of it makes you slide fully to the floor, something quick and beastly baring its teeth within you. the silhouette of his cock, stiff in his pants, draws you in. you feel him watching you as you stare.

“can i?”

he shakes his head, out of breath. “no.”

“please?”

“i think i really will die if i see my cock in your mouth,” he heaves, and you both sputter at the thought. you bump your head on the wall behind you and close your eyes.

“thank you, sting.”

you hear him sniff as he lifts himself from the floor. the door creaks open.

“wasn’t for you.”

he leaves you to cope with whatever that means, dripping onto your floorboards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

neither you nor joel ever say, out loud, that your rapacious meetings are confidential, but it’s an unsaid promise you keep regardless. the moments come to you much like the strawberries, small and saccharine and due for rot, but yours. he holds you taut against the side of the stables to pet his middle and ring fingers into you, stretching you like a promise he knows he cannot keep; he finds you, before patrol and after, to fuck you on his tongue, leaving marks down the backs of your thighs, blushing letters of his restraint; a few times he allows himself the demeaned enrapture of rutting his cock, through his jeans, along the seam of your pussy, rasping out soft and terrible things about the way you look and feel. all the while he reminds you, into your clit or along your hairline, that this isn’t fucking, though you suspect he says it more for the way it reverberates through you and comes back to him.

you find yourself unused to being someone’s secret. your first, danny, was dark moments in a treeline with the rest of your group feet away; the lot of you were shameless, an incestual sort of family, and nobody minded the noises. you’ve taken a few men home in jackson, too, but they unanimously found merit in the achievement of fucking you, reclusive hermit as you have been, and set the stories of you loose to circulate through the commune the morning after. you might have minded, the first time, but in time you supposed the rumors humanized you, at least, made you more woman than you sometimes let on. besides, such objectifications never materialized; to avoid castration or some other gruesome slice of a death, the whispering always quieted as you walked past, and quickly became uninteresting. before joel, it’d been a year, at least, since you’d taken someone to bed, and now you find yourself more woman than human with him, but the rest will never hear of it. a piece of you remains convinced the secrecy, for joel, is born of his mortification, disgraced by your body and the ways he meets it; this truth is an unrelenting one that twists something smarting through your chest. the rest of you remembers the J he drew on your thigh, painted on with your own slick, and thinks (hopes, if you can be honest with yourself) that he is just as possessive of you as you have become of him.

you sit on your porch bench with a strawberry in hand, red wetness staining your skin as you slice it with your knife. ellie told you a few days ago that she saw a magazine once, with food and chefs in it, and they had a page about fruit art. the both of you laughed at how trivial that sounded, doubled over on the floor of the greenhouse, but when the laughter died out, you found yourselves shoulder to shoulder wondering how exactly one made roses out of little fruits. you make nicks in the strawberry and pull them down with the flat of your knife to fan them out. it looks much more like a little pine cone.

“the hell is that?”

you don’t have to look up to know who it is, but you can’t help watching him approach. the warmth of late spring continues to dance through jackson, and you feel a heat curl in your stomach watching his forearms press from his rolled flannel sleeves. you grin down at your strawberry.

“it was supposed to be a rose, but i don’t feel too convinced.”

the soft rumble of a laugh rings through your ears. joel pulls your open hand toward him to inspect the thing.

“hm. maybe if i squint real hard.”

you pull your hand back, biting your tongue behind your cheek to keep from beaming at him. “you’re impossible.”

“uh huh,” he smirks, and sits down next to you. a second of quiet spreads its legs between you, feline and satisfied. his breathing comes slowly, deeply, and you feel your lungs synchronize with his, continuing to cut at your strawberry and spinning it in your hand.

“why’d you come?”

joel clears his throat. “not for that.”

you hum. “just the pleasure of my presence, then?”

with a smile he tries to hide from you he says, “somethin like that.”

another open moment, the wet scratch of your fathers knife reverberating in the air. joel watches the people of jackson walk by, on their paths to food or sleep or love somewhere, squints his eyes as the horde makes its way and does not turn its head to you.

“you don’t…” he circles his thumbs together, shaping his words very carefully, “you don’t got a lotta people to talk to here, huh?”

“is that what you came here for? to ask me that? don’t be an asshole.” he shrugs. you let out a tiny huff. “i don’t know, i guess not. but i don’t do a lot of talking, so i don’t need that many listeners.”

“don’t do a lotta talkin?”

“no, not really.”

“well shit, darlin, you talk a helluva lot with me. why’s that?”

something biting sinks its teeth into you, cheeks flushing and hands closing more over the strawberry, nearly mutilated now (the both of you). “cause you refuse to say anything and the silence gets exhausting.”

“i’m exhausting?” and there’s a smile in his voice that you take in like a tonic and nearly spit back up. you will not feel this feeling, you will not.

“yes, you are,” you insist, and you know you’ve laid your cards out now with the waver in your voice, feeling him shift beside you. you think he’ll let it go.

“really…” a breath, “why d’you…talk so much to me?” the emphasis, there, to me, surprises you.

“what do you mean why?”

“i been told i ain’t good company.” you smile something tragic at your feet. he continues, “and you’re so young. pretty little thing. and you don’t have any friends your own age. it’s sort of…odd.”

you could turn around, storm inside and slam the door behind you; you consider this option. but what’s one more awful truth? what’s a million more? you seem to relinquish them all, at one point or another. pretty little thing, oh god, oh god.

“i think you’re a lot like me, sting. a lot like me.”

joel shakes his head, admonishes, “don’t say that.”

“i mean it, you are.”

“i ain’t.”

“you are! i am violent and ruthless and the killing doesn’t bother me anymore. i get nightmares and i think i’m saved, but then they slip right off. the people here are so tormented by the blood on their hands, or they have none to begin with, but i don’t even mind it. that’s so much fucking worse.” joel opens his mouth to say something but you stop him. “and that’s what you are, too. i know you’ve killed people, joel, a whole fucking mass of them just like i have. but then you’re…” and here’s the most horrific part, you brace yourself for it, “you’re sort of gentle with me. did you know that?” you look at him, now, and wish you didn’t. he winces at you like you’ve punched him square in the stomach. still, you don’t rush the words, let them crawl out slowly. “that’s not forgiveness, that’s apathy. you don’t care about the things you’ve done. and i don’t either. so i…” you make one last scoring line with your knife before setting it down, cupping the fruit between both hands and letting the juice seep out. “i guess i thought talking to you would feel good. it does feel good.”

joel’s eyes are brown and gleaming at you, and you watch as he unties the things you’ve said. he looks over your eyelashes, the bridge of your nose, at the plush of your lips, and then out onto the street ahead, slouching over. please say something, say anything.

“you got a real keen eye on you, baby.”

something heavy and unforgiven washes out of you, but he sounds like absolution, you think, with the drawl and the sugar in his words. “you think so?”

“mhm.”

the tone of his voice reaches around you, shakes a grin along your lips as you hold back deep heaves in the column of your throat. his broadness sat next to you, his unrelenting appraisals of you, it’s all deeply intimate; he twists you in his palm like you and your little fruit, but he does not slice you open. he raises a thumb to cup around the back of your head, stroking the pad back and forth along your hairline. you don’t dare move. 

he whispers, “so soft here.” you shudder, and the bench creaks as he leans over. you feel the heat of his lips press, light as anything but intentional, decided, right under where he’d dragged his thumb. threading his fingers up through your hair he holds you in place, dipping his canines a moment into the line of your neck before pulling back, flickering his lips one final time on the little mark he made. goosebumps raise down your shoulders and wrists at the closeness of him, scent of his spit and skin. 

you’re certain he’ll leave as he sits back in his spot, certain he’s pulled you both back to his terror of the sweetness of you. but his hand stays, he stays. you sit there, unspeaking with wet fruit in your hand, until the sun dips below the horizon, his palm behind your neck, brushing his fingers over the fading indent he left. a ravenous thing tugs below your navel, pulling your wetness out, swelling your clit in your jeans, and you greet it like an old friend. but the grip up higher, around your trachea and through your arteries, is new. the beating heart of it grows with the swipe of joel’s fingers, and you know you are fucked, but oh, you’ve fought so hard. you’re condemned to love him—you’re nearly there, it occurs to you. maybe martyrdom and death in halfway love with him is worth it, if he can keep his skin on yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @koshkaj-blog @shotgun-shelby @limerence4u @5oh5

[musubiki]

i might have mentioned this sometime before but ive been thinking about it again: the reason why lime doesnt ask mochi out and vice versa for a while

Some time after mochi becomes a witch and lime has been in her guild, also after he becomes PAINFULLY aware of how he feels about her, theres a moment where he has a conversation with her (casual-like) fishing about how she would feel about getting a boyfriend. as long as hes known her, shes never gone on a date with anyone, no ones asked her out, and shes never mentioned having a crush on anyone to him. so during some conversation about something or another, he asks something along the lines of "Well when you get a boyfriend, he's gonna need to be okay with your weird witchiness I guess haha-- (lowkey interest check)"

and his plan here was IF she answers to some extent that she would like a boyfriend, he would ask her out. but instead she kinda smiles a bit and falls quiet, before responding "If I could have one..."

and when he asks what the hell that even means, she tells him the same thing pom and tiramisu told her when she first became a witch: "This isn't just some happy fun times, willy=nilly side hobby you treat carelessly. Your family legacy and more importantly, your life, are both constantly at risk and you need to always be focused on learning and mastering your magic as it grows. To that end, you don't have time to date and be in a relationship-- it'll only be a distraction to you and a weakness that can be exploited. You'll constantly be split between your magic and your partner. Either you won't be fully committed to your studies to spend time with them, or you won't be fully committed to them because of your studies. It's not a luxury you can afford. Until this is complete and you have full mastery of your magic to the point where you're not constantly in a state where you need to fight for your life, having a boyfriend is advised against."

and lime just kinda stays quiet for a bit, before going "...so no boyfriend until the magic shit is all done..."

and in his head hes thinking yeah, fine, that makes sense. I dont want to be a burden to her or distract her, and I dont want to cause more stress for her because pom is like an asian mom that constantly will remind her about what a bad decision it is. and this ALL hinges on the event that she wants to date him and it doesnt ruin their friendship. so he eventually decides fine. ill hold off on it for now, just be there for her however i can and i'll ask her out when this whole thing is done (and in the meantime, maybe i can gauge how much she likes me if at all, and if not i can try to get her to fall for me)

(worth noting he WANTS to ask her out right before the timeskip happens, something like "Hey we should go get ice cream tomorrow-- you know, to celebrate your magic reaching its full power and all." (where he was gonna ask her out for real), and she smiles and says "Sure!", but pom already told her she was leaving that night, and by the next morning shes gone)

[transskywardsword]

ive been in a four sword mood so have a little drabble with vio and shadow. could be read as romantic or platonic, up to the reader

-

Vaati’s palace was cold. Being half-tied to the dark world meant the constant chill of death drafted through every corridor, and Vio hated it. He hated every drafty room and every freezing corridor, hated the never-ending gooseflesh on his arms-- hated the absence of warmth from the other pieces of him. He'd never been cold beside Green, Blue, and Red, not really, constantly warmed by Red's smile and Blue's humor and Green's bright eyes. But they were gone, and Vio was alone.

It would all be worth it, Vio reminded himself as he leaned against the balcony's edge. A mighty windstorm ravished the ground far below, pulling at Vio’s hair. It would all be worth it; he'd destroy the Dark Mirror, stripping Vaati of his power, and then he could reunite with the Links. Reunite, and apologize. The plan was perfect, even if it left his heart aching.

“Here.”

Vio jumped at the voice, hand going to his sword hilt, but it was just Shadow. For a boy who thrived on theatrics and chaos, Shadow always moved silently, slipping in and out of darkness and slinking into the edge of one's vision completely undetected. It was more than a little terrifying to think of just what Shadow could do with such a skill. Instead, Shadow held out a dark purple cloak to Vio. He shook the cloak in Vio’s face.

“Take it. Watching you shiver is making me cold.”

Gingerly, Vio took it, running his hands along the soft satin.

“I, uh, thought it would match,” Shadow said, and the almost hidden uncertainty in his voice made Vio smile.

“Thank you. It’s very warm,” Vio said, pulling it over his shoulders. Shadow shrugged.

“It’s whatever,” he said, stretching his arms above him, “no biggie.” Vio’s insides warmed a bit at the brightness in Shadow’s voice; Shadow often tried to hide his true feelings behind grandiose actions and brash language, but with Vio... with him, the kid always seemed brighter, softer. More human.

"I didn't think you'd be able to feel the cold," Vio said, burying deeper into the satin as a particularly strong gust of wind blew across the balcony.

"Oh, I can't," Shadow said matter of factly. "Just like ta pretend."

That was what intrigued Vio most about the creature beside him. Despite existing purely because of dark magic and being about as close to a living Hylian as, well, a shadow was to the sun, Shadow seemed determined to live. Despite his fangs, his waxy dead skin, his hollow eyes, Shadow seemed determined to be a person, forcing himself to eat, enduring burning sunlight for morning walks with Vio, even spending hours each night staring at the ceiling of his room, trying his hardest to will himself to sleep.

"Here." Vio held up a corner of the cloak and gestured for Shadow to come closer. "Now you can pretend to be warm."

Shadow blinked and Vio gave him a reassuring smile. Slowly, the creature sidled up against Vio's side, tucking his chin on Vio's shoulder and holding the cloak tightly closed around them.

"Better?" Shadow said, his breath tickling Vio's ear. Suddenly, Vio's voice was gone. He was going to kill Shadow. Destroying the Dark Mirror would most certainly take Shadow with it, Shadow and his drawl and his gifts and his desperate, desperate need to live. Vio knew this. He knew the plan from day one. But with Shadow so close, his temperature-less hands on Vio's, the thought was excruciating. Much to his embarrassment, Vio felt his eyes go wet, Shadow's face blurring with the beginning of tears.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry. I know my skin is creepy, I'll-- I'll go, you probably don't want to waste time with me and--"

"Stay," Vio croaked, holding fast to Shadow's wrist. "Please. I don't want to be alone."

Shadow pressed closer. "You ain't alone. You've got me." He brushed a strand of blond hair behind Vio's ear. "Is this about the other Links? You don't need them. You and I, we got each other. We don't need other Links, or Vaati, or Ganon, we got what we need right here."

Vio shifted, pulling Shadow closer to him and imagining that somehow he could feel the boy's warmth, could hear his heartbeat, could feel the expansion of his chest.

"Want to know a secret?" Shadow whispered. "I'm gonna usurp Vaati and take control of the mirror. You and I-- we'll be in charge. We'll create a Hyrule we deserve. With the mirror, we'll be invincible. Just you and me, Shadow and Vio, against the world. Doesn't that sound amazing?"

"Like a dream," Vio whispered. Shadow laughed.

"Better than a dream. Because we're gonna make it real."

Vio squeezed his eyes shut. All he saw was broken glass and a broken body that looked just like his.

[13tinysocks]

A nonexhaustive list of creepypasta x reader ideas ive had over the years and will never write. Please feel free to steal them and write them.

Red Eye

Coffee shop + slender mansion au. Yn is a lone night shift barista. The creepypasta(s) of your choice comes in every night for a red eye right before closing. Gotta fuel up before chasing down idiots who wandered in the woods. 

 Anyone whos worked customer service has felt a little homicidal before. After weeks of dealing with a shitty customer who management has done nothing about, yn takes matters into their own hands. By smashing their head in with a stovetop expresso maker. The creepypasta sees this though yn is unaware. Expecting them to be like any other human, the pasta thinks the next time the shop’s open yn wont be there. They’ll probably turn themselves in. Whatever.

But there’s no break in business for investigation and yns working there the next night. Upon realizing yn cleaned up the scene and is going on like nothing happened, the pasta’s interest is thoroughly peaked. Especially when another shithead customer gets brained a few weeks later. Realizing there’s a new serial killer in town, the pasta is more than interested but infatuated. 

Dead by Daylight

Slender mansion au + Splendorman

Slenderman had proxies that hunted and killed but what about Splendorman? Had always been the opposite of his stuffy older brother. When visiting after his domain collapses, he brings along his proxies. To which slender’s housemates/proxies were unaware existed. 

Splendor’s proxies are different. They don’t kill to feed him. They survive to feed him. Splendor puts them in near constant mortal peril for his own entertainment and sustenance. Be it randomly spawning them in the wilderness, sending random attackers after them, or straight up slicing off limbs. Most of his proxies don’t last a week. But yn has for years. Grizzled and exhausted, yn is a ruthless survivalist. They to keep the others alive but those stupid assholes never listen. There’s maybe one or two other proxies but they’re just this weeks cannon fodder. 

Splendor convinces Slender to let their proxies play. AKA “Hey! Your proxies should hunt mine down and try to kill them! Who ever has the best proxies wins this (slenders domain). Wouldn’t that be funny!” Except the game is contained to be only inside the vast slender mansion. 

Fun dynamics ensue. Cat and mouse. Splendor has a time out twice a day for a few minutes. Which really makes things awkward when a pasta is about to kill yn and they have to let them go because breaking the rules on their end means death. Ensue awkwardly eating lunch in the same room after trying to kill eachother. Okay, time outs over. Yns already gone. 

A rivalry esc romance blossoms from there. They def hatefuck. 

Meat Is Me

EJ x reader

Life hadn’t gone the way you wanted. Now you were working as a mortuary assistant. Work was gruesome but not that bad. Until money gets tight at work and you’re alone, finishing cleaning up after the boss went home. Strange people come into the mortuary, family, with fists full of cash to spend just another hour with their loved one alone.

Afterward, you don’t think that was a family member but you’ve made one month’s rent in a single night. He keeps coming back. He tells other freaks. They come in the night when you’re alone. You have to hide the things they do to the bodies from your boss. Sometimes they take pieces. But at least your pockets are well lined. It was almost worth it until he came in.

He hid his face. You thought he was more shameful than the other necro-freaks. When you go to check on the body after he’s had his time with it. Fuck. He’d re-opened the chest cavity you so skillfully sewn shut post-autopsy. Everything was fucking gone. Worst of all? He skipped on paying you.

You manage to hide it from the boss. But he keeps coming back. He keeps taking more and more. You can’t go to the cops about him skimping your cash, you weren’t doing the most legal shit either. But you were too pussy to do anything about it. Especially after you walked in on one of his sessions and found a gray-fleshed monster eating strings of tendon from the body. 

How the hell are you going to get out of this one? 

The Archive

Just a magnus archive au where yn is John and the creepypastas are the fears. Think about it ok.

[darkhazard19]

For the ask the oc

Hello, Leta and Ria! Hope you two are doing great there 💖💖💖

Here's my question for the both of you, what are your thoughts on meeting Val and the others for the first time?

@shinmiyovvi AFTER WHAT FEELS LIKE YEARS IVE FINALLY ANSWERED THIS I’m so sorry it took this long Shin 😭😭 Hope you like it nonetheless 🥺💖💖💖 tried to add the southern flare for Zari!

“Ah, hey there Shin! It’s been awhile since we’ve last seen you.” Leta smiles softly, “I’m doing great by the way. Ria, come say hi!”

Ria waves a hand while she lights a cigarette with the other. “Mmh, yea, hi. We’re both peachy. Let’s hurry up and answer the question.”

Leta sighs with a roll of her eyes, “Don’t worry about her, that's just how she is. So, our thoughts when we first met Val and the others? Well, to be honest when I first saw Lena I was happy to know I wouldn't be the only woman in the crew. God knows what I’d do if I had to deal with all these boys and that testosterone on my own. But…..I also noticed something about her, like…..she lost someone or something dear to her. It made me feel sad cause I know what that pain feels like.”

Ria nods her head in agreement, “Licia reminded me of myself, a woman wronged by the world and protecting herself behind a guise of anger and coldness. It also felt nice to have somebody to possibly relate to.”

“Meeting Ji Eun was interesting I suppose. I could instantly tell upon seeing her that she wasn't one for bullshit and I respected that. But somethin’ told me we wouldn’t exactly be super close and boy was my instinct right. Not that we hate each other but don't you reckon you’d hate it if somebody was puttin down the effort you have for your work. I know she’s testing me but gee does it irk me. Sorry for rambling but I respect Ji Eun and I’m glad to be in her company. Bout you, Ria?”

Ria was unusually quiet as she took another huff of her cigarette, “......I felt heartbroken meeting Ji Eun for the first time…..It was clear as day what she had gone through ...what haunted her. It made me feel…..angry not at her but for her. Made me wanna protect her, poor gal doesn’t deserve any more pain or heartache.”

Leta looked at Ria in slight surprise but shifted into understanding, she decided not to dwell on it and went to move on.

“Hmm okay well, let's see we can talk bout Arthur next. One look at him and hearing him talk told me I’d constantly be having headaches around him. But I also knew I’d share some pretty good laughs.” Leta smiles softly, chuckling. “Nowadays he likes to tease and get on my nerves but it’s nothing a little sarcasm and wit can’t fix.”

“.....He’s like the father I wished I was blessed with. At first I was wary, and didn't really think much of him. Suppose it was the kindness he had and the fact that he actually seemed to care and listened to what I had to say that drew me in. Honestly, I think my heart knew that we’d be able to form a connection but my mind just wasn't ready for it at first.”

“Suppose we can't trade one for the other?”

“Hold your horses there, girlie!”

“Worth a shot wadnit (Wasn’t it)?”

Ria snorts, “Anyways, lastly there's Dragomir. Don't judge a book by its cover would be an understatement here, thought he was gonna be that type of man who likes to act all big and strong or even the silent and brooding type but boy was my gut instinct so off. Not that I’m complaining, it’s actually kinda heartwarming to see how sweet and kind Drago can be and don’t tell him I said this but he’s almost like a big teddy bear with how sweet he is. It’s also nice that he’s a great listener.”

“......It was hard to talk to him at first….sometimes it was hard to even look at him….Miro reminded me of my brother so much. It was nice to have someone like Red around but it was like a reminder that I would never get to see my brother again. Sometimes I like to think that Red sent Miro to me, lemme know that it’s okay, that he’d never be mad at me for moving on. Similar to Lena who I see as a sister, Miro quickly became like a brother to me and sometimes I feel guilty but then I remember Red always wanted me to be happy and I tell myself that he’d be happy to see I was able to form such a great bond with the others.”

Ria puts an arm around Leta’s shoulders and pulls her in for a side hug for comfort. “Hope that answers your question, kiddo. And have a nice day/night alright?”

[fight-the-corn]

sbi x reader part 8

A few days later, Wilbur reached out to me. I felt my phone buzz and when I checked it, I saw the following message:

W: hey! how r u?

I smiled as I responded.

O: im good, hbu?

The answer was instantaneous.

W: ive been good! u wanna come over to our house for dinner tmrw? we miss u!!

Dinner. Usually, I had to get food made for my parents. But, if I timed it right, I could feed them then sneak out?

O: what time were you thinking?

W: probs around six? if I wanna change it tho that's fine idc

O: any chance we could do seven, or is that too late?

W: great! that totally works!! looking forward to it!!

O: loved " great! that totally works!! looking forward to it!!"

That have me enough time to get food to my parents by six, then be at the Craft's house by seven. Call it stupid or selfish for choosing the villains, but at least they made me feel safe. I went to bed that night with a smile on my face for the first time in a while.

---

I got through the next day happier than normal, having something to look forward to. By early evening, food was done and two plates were made up. It wasn't suspicious that I didn't have a plate, I don't usually get one. My parents prefer to eat alone.

At six o'clock, I set their plates on the table, ran upstairs, and slipped out the window. My heart was pounding in my chest, terrified of the punishment I was risking by leaving. It was worth it though, I reminded myself. I was going to get to spend time with an amazing family, and I was going to have fun, and it was going to be awesome.

I made it to the Craft house by 6:30, knocking on the door. Tommy opened it, grinning. "THE WOMAN HAS ARRIVED! Come in, come in," he beckoned me inside. I smiled as he led me to the table where I sat, and Phil brought a plate over and they all sat around the table.

Dinner was fun. Lots of jokes, lots of smiling. No alcohol in sight. I was getting comfortable with the family. Techno suggested game night, then wiped the floor with us in Scattergories. After, Tommy insisted on Twister, which led to Phil calling colors and Wilbur just trying to get in Tommy's way as much as possible. I fell over second, after Tommy, because Wilbur had tripped him and I laughed so hard I fell. Phil then offered up Clue, which suprisingly, I won.

As all good things must come to an end, it was getting to the time I needed to get back home. Finally, I called it.

"Ok, I think it's time for me to go home."

" Awwww, one more game? "

"I'm sorry Wil, I have to go."

Phil stepped in. "Do you need a ride?"

" Yeah, actually, that would be awesome. "

"Ok, I'll take you home. Boys, you're on cleanup duty."

Tommy whined, but Tommy always whined so everyone ignored him.

---

The ride home was nice, I chatted quietly with Phil the whole way home. I learned about his love for gardening, and he told some stories about the boys that almost had me in tears I was laughing so hard. As relaxed as I had felt the whole evening, I couldn't shake the underlying fear that gripped me the whole time. What if my parents found out I was gone? What if something happens with the Crafts, and they decide they don't want me anymore? Even though I've lived with nobody in my corner for so long, it would be so much more painful now that I know what it's like to have people who I feel safe around. As we neared my house, I tentatively spoke.

"Is there any chance you could drop me off around the corner? My parents kind of don't know I went out." I ducked my head as I spoke, not sure if how he would react. Would he be mad? Hate that I was lying to my family?

"Why didn't you tell them?"

" Um, they can just be a little strict sometimes, but I really wanted to come to dinner. I swear, I don't usually do stuff like that. "

"What would happen if they caught you?"

"They probably wouldn't be happy with me. I'd just get in trouble."

" Your shirt slipped during twister."

I froze. He silently pulled over and turned to face me.

"Why is your stomach so bruised?"

I open my mouth, then close it. "I'm clumsy?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you know that I used to be an emergency foster placement care parent? I've seen after effects of some bad homes."

I blink, then duck my head. "I have it under control."

He's quiet for a moment, then: "We can't help you if you don't let us."

My eyes fill with tears at the gesture, because not only was this the first time anyone has offered to help me, but Phil is offering his help after I've been nothing but a pain, spending days in his house recovering, eating his food, crashing his family game nights.

"I understand it feels like a really big thing, but honestly, any paperwork is worth it. We have the money and the resources, and our family loves you. You would be safe. "

I debated it. I really did. I looked up and met his eyes.

"What if I just promise to call you if it gets too bad? "

"I don't want you to have to get to the point of too bad. Also, I don't know if you can fairly identify 'too bad'."

"I called someone that night in the snow."

"Only after you had been out there for multiple hours."

I stay quiet at that. He has a point.

"Look, just call me if you need, okay? Any of us, anywhere, anytime. We can help you."

I nod.

"And I mean that. Even if your parents catch you sneaking back in tonight, or something happens at one in the morning, or you're two cities over, call us. Ok?"

" Okay. Thank you Phil. "

"Of course. Anytime."

I get out of the car. He gives me a hug. I turn, and walk towards the house that is the source of all my darkest fears.

[hook-line-and-sinker]

hey so hi so i may or may not have gone insane abt mollusc blood/hemocyanin a while ago.

so. squid blood transfusions. could it happen????? they dont have blood types to complicate it because they dont have red blood cells or a hemocyanin equivalent (blue blood cells?) cause their blood protein is just dissolved in the blood. so like. could you hypothetically do a blood transfusion between squids. the world needs to know.

You have gone insane. And I did not give you permission to take me with you dammit! >:(

So, Squid Blood Transfusions, huh?

I fell down a research rabbit hole so lemme take this from the start.

1. What 'bout them blood transfusions?

So in order to take blood from a donor your blood types have to be compatible. Your blood type depends on the antigens displayed on the surface of your red bloodcells. The antigen receptors in you blood are located on the surface of B-Cells and T-Cells. If they recognise antigens not present on your own red bloodcells they trigger an immuno response (as to why a blood transfusion with a non-compatible blood type is so dangerous for you)

There are 36 different systems in which you have a blood type, the ones most relevant being the ABO and Rh Systems, these make up the blood types you know like A-, O+, AB-, ect.

Source

Interestingly, in fish only 3 Systems of blood types have been found, for example Tuna's blood can be sorted into the Tg System.

Source

2. What the fuck is wrong with squid blood???

The blood of most invertebrates is not red, they don't have red bloodcells and transport the oxygen through their body in different ways than us. Notably, Octopi, squids and cuttlefish use blue haemocyanin. This has lead to their blood often being falsely labelled as blue, even though its more translucent.

Source

Their blood also lacks an equivalent to T-Cells and B-Cells so it lacks the receptors as well.

So Squids don't have blood types.

Source

3. But what if they get sick???

Cephalopods have a very efficient immune system, it's just very different to ours and barely understood. Research is still ongoing, but from what I've understood they have many different responses to health threats.

Source

4. So Squids can do blood transfusions?

Technically yes. From what I've figured. Though obviously theres other factors of complication that I might have overlooked/misunderstood and as I said the field is still very much left unexplored.

I'm very much not an expert in cephalopods (when I set my ask button to 'ask me about squid' It was more a shits and giggles thing, Im so sorry anon lol) but ive dedicated an evening to researching this and discussed it with my mum who studied medicine for what thats worth.

I hope I could affirm your theory, researching this was really fun. Also Anon u wanna be friends I don't think I can be normal anymore haha. \hj TT.TT

[alpinezro]

hey i saw your tags about being native and i think i can offer some advice! since your mom was adopted and if you have info on where she was adopted from that’ll give you insight on which nation/band she comes from. lots of nations (at least in my direct vicinity) are working on support for residential school survivors and their kin both socially and financially, so once you have that info, it’s likely there’s community events like workshops and gatherings that you can attend to build connection. i am a white native myself, and while many of my facial features resemble other native people, my skin is light so lots of non-natives don’t recognize my features for what they are. the important things are recognizing and understanding the privileged that white skin affords, and knowing who and where you come from, which is something you’ll be able to begin to learn once you’ve found connected with the community your mother was taken from. connection to people and land is what defines native-ness,

it’s very likely your culture and your people will embrace you and your mother with open arms and welcome you home if you are willing and ready to do the work of reconnecting. it will be difficult and emotional but ultimately it will be worth it. take care, pishkamisshow <3

GODDD thank you so much for this response, you have no clue how much it means to me and I appreciate the clarity. my mom has already reconnected, we're aztec and lakota and ive just barely started to reconnect but i've been hesitant because of the issues i described. the furthest i've gone so far is exploring my identity through writing/folklore but at some point i just said fuck it and went to a powwow with my mother to bond with her. im glad i did, it was a very welcoming experience and i even got to sit/speak with the head elder about how bad i was about making frybread. thats off topic though THANK YOU.

[wackymaci]

@marscats37 OH HEY YOUVE GOT JESSE QUESTIONS?? well!!!!

although all wiki progress has been made exclusively on the Maci page and No Where Else, the good news is!! Jesse has his OWN brief section ON Maci's page in and of itself!! how tf did Jesse end up in Elysium indeed??

short answer: Maci adopted him as a pet once Tory moved to the underworld bc mortals do better in pairs

long answer: COPYPASTES ENTIRE LITTLE JESSE SECTION OF MACI’S PAGE BEHIND THE CUT ;;;; UWU UWU UWU,

With Tory's impromptu move to the Underworld, he hadn't left much behind in the mortal world. One such was his only other friend, Jesse - the person who'd summoned Maci from Tory's phone during that fateful night, so many months ago. Maci had only met Jesse once before that night, only just long enough for Jesse to suspiciously clock the puppy-dog eyes that Tory had aimed her way every time he'd thought no one was looking, and long enough for Jesse to have thought of her when Tory had gone through a crisis. From the events of that night Jesse, a sunny, easygoing person who had bafflingly aligned himself at Tory’s dark and moody side since their childhood, had earned himself an immediate spot in Maci’s heart too. Now that he lived in the Underworld, Tory kept in touch with him through the long distance of an entire realm apart until eventually Maci offered to sneak him into the Underworld to visit and hang out in the safety of the Elysium palace, too. She’d already broken the rules with one mortal, why not two? Besides, Melinoe was still on the loose, Hades somehow had not lashed out again with his weapon of Thanatos yet, and since retaliating at the vulnerable people indirectly around Maci clearly their go-to, it was perhaps safer for Jesse to start spending some time in Elysium with them. Tory was Maci’s one mortal exception, but Jesse had already earned her trust to be let in, too. More infinitely adventurous than Tory was, when he wasn’t hanging out in the palace Jesse spent the other half of his Underworld time wildly running around exploring all over Elysium, only stopping at the barrier’s edges when Maci reminded him that he was definitely accidentally killable if he went off somewhere without supervision. Jesse’s open running invitation into the Underworld stood concurrently with Maci and Tory getting closer to Glaukos on a platonic and physical level. As Jesse was already one of the rare people Tory had let down a wall around, when given the option of sleeping with a new third, Tory and Maci approached Jesse to be the new one to slot between them. He didn’t think twice at all before leaping at the opportunity, and becoming Maci's second ever mortal exception. Skipping ahead a little bit in this narrative, it's worth mentioning now that Jesse would become so intimately inseparable from Maci and Tory that he was formally asked to live with them permanently within the palace on Valentine's Day of the next year. There would be a number of people that Maci would go on to meet and adopt into her arms, under her roof, and in her (their) bed; not ever formally dating, just elevated and loved as super-special friends with benefits. Again, the pantheon's standard trend. The palace would continue to be populated with these people Maci latched onto along with Tory, eventually all conglomerating together into one interchangeable family unit as the years continued on... within this special category, Jesse was the first of Maci's little adopted pets, the very beginning of their trend. (Though Maci and Tory's relationships with Hypnos and Pasi, and Glaukos and Oiolyka, would continue with importance - none of the four of them ever moved in!) Jesse would even go on to later marry Laphi, another of Maci and Tory's palace residents discussed in the section below.

honestly its sooo funny as ive been looking at oldschool elysium content like, where all our main characters and our focus were SOOO different than where they are now ;0; like.... look at that up there but how often do i even ever DRAW jesse in the modern day??? A CRIIIMEEEEE HELLO??????

**full disclosure much of jesse's pre elysium backstory history is in the process of being heavy retconned actually but i do have i think Many things straightened out from where he threw himself into the palace onwards with just a teeny handful of exceptions lmao???<333

underrated fave honestly !! anyway yeah the even shorter short short version is bc Maci's a sex pest and Jesse is Extremely Cute + Pre-Tory-Approved

[almalvo]

STAR TREK: DISCOVERY | S1E2 "Battle at the Binary Stars"

[I will react to each episode individually and in full, raw reception and then post as is unrevised here onto my tumblr for the full span of every and all NuTrek episodes and series that have been and will be released. If this falls under your field of interest - I welcome your company in joining me. Enjoy the ride.] -------

god this show looks so fucking juicy with all its colours and shapes and resolution … BURNHAM IS SAREK'S WARD??????? bro bro is she a sibling in upbringing with spock or something. everyons so fucking pretty ugh these sounds i really want this uniform LMAO THAT LOOK SARU GIVES BURNHAM AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA saru is so good looking UGHH THIS INTRO I CANT I CANTTTT LOOK AT IT ITS SO PRETTYYY i love the feeling DISCO gives me im so happy for star trek getting such a massive visual and all around production upgrade also i just realised since old-trek's Star Trek Enterprise series, we have been inching closer and closer to the one that started it all. Star Trek ENTERPRISE > DISCOVERY > STRANGE NEW WORLDS…

does this… mean we are…. just possibly……… heading into a reprisal of some kind of "Origins" production in the future non-AOS?

if so i know it will never be a replacement of what is irreplacable. but im actually EXCITED to see something like that. if even it were to be a bad project, it would still be such a tickling spectacle - an experience that reminds us of where we came from.

but also.. to see what came before to be such a modern topic to discuss and potentially (i fucking wish) revive the world with its gravity and vision - all eyes on Star Trek once again……… it would be so worth it. it would be. everything.

anyways back to the episode LMAO UGHHH look at the way all the united federation ships warp in among their brethren ughhhhh ughhhhhhh takes my breath awaayy i like klingon whats odd is it sounds so slow in this rendition man the amount of work it took to get this pronunciation right ughhhh everything looks so pretty in this literally movie quality for a TREK series

no but also one more thing - back to the idea about the future of modern trek, since the movie saga has fallen flat, if we head into a modern revival of TOS, featuring AOS cast as a different universe/mirrorverse or seomthing cameo in TV/STREAMING EPISODIC FORMAT would be just… JUST-

...

i am so curious as to how and why burnham and sarek are even existing together simultaneously ugh damn look at the damage on the ship the detail i love saru's eyes hearing this as the ship's computer voice is so odd to me because im so used to Majel's voice but hey its smooth what is happening also oh my god this mind meld scene is so pretty oh my god im so curious how Burnham and Spock's dynamic even IS THE FUCKKK?? what would that even BE??? i only know spock exists because that is one of the few spoilers ive seen of this show - i KNOW hes in DISCO. as well as pike but thats it. what purpose they serve and why? no idea. and how burnham becomes captain?? god im so curious iits so intersting to hear statements as familiar as "weapons disabled" being said in such a new setting. with such a new sound for somehting so classic. tractor beam WHO WHOS EUROPA? WHATS ON THAT SHIP WHOOO

the human and klingon transmission will never be in peace… until far into TOS's timeline.. man this is so INTERESTING. HEARING KLINGON TERRAN. I CANT LIE i miss their fabulous long locks of hair bro klingon ship is fucking knifing through this ship dude that is so hardcore but also devastating af oh my god this antimatter explosion looks so fucking pretty admiral is gone the chian of command shifts how does this go phillipa doenst become admiral does she? then burnham as captain i doubt its this easy nah its so weird to hear klingon so spaced t'kuvma is such a cool name ughhhh lok at all the WARPPPING SHIPSSSS hearing klingon accent is cool love how smart the ship is oh god burnham you MADLAD yo they goin hard the klingon attire is so victorian english inspired not too keen on that ahha ughhh saru is sooo NICE TO LOOK AT such nice features this ready room is very reminiscent of what is to become enterprise internal design i mean, of course. but i just cant help but hype over it all thats interesting, to have a human taught as vulcan. hmm a subtly different circumstance than that of spock. the visual aberration effect is working well in this series ahaha DISCO has a very…. odd feeling from since its first episode that continues into its second one - it doesnt feel super episodic at all? it feels all like a really long montage. the sets are so pretty whoa those armoured vests though? touch screen energising ughh the gold animation of the energising effect is lovely those klingons dropped so fast and easy from those phasers dude these are some of the sexiest phaser designs ive ever seen. the klingons are just dropping like nothing whoa burnham's yell when the klingon grabbed her was so not her XD it didnt sound like her oh wow we are actually seeing the short handheld klingon knife OH SHIT well i see that this is how phllipa is usurped by burnham.. BRO YOU JUST LEFT HER BODY THERE hmmm interesting the pacing of the first two episodes is very… fast

t'kuvma is dead already?? i think its this pale klingon that ive seen on the comic cover whoaaaa all these shuttle/escape pods leaving like baby toads off momma's back XD (if you know, you know.) its so montagey very consistently - i guess THIS is where we start the series as it is to be? i really like this chiaroscuro lighting hm. its over already huh idk if its me - but apart from the visually and audially beautiful presentation - it has an odd feeling to it i cant lie. i think it must be because of this 2-episode montage. i hope it is.

i guess ill find out.

[liverobinreaction]

🖊️, 🌈 (banshee in a well), 💻 ?

IM SORRY I KNOW THIS IS OVER A MONTH LATE, i lost the original ask post and it took me ages to find it BUT I FOUND IT so boom! late but here

ask game here

🌈 What inspired you to write banshee in a well?

basically, i had just been thrown head first into the batman fandom and was scouring through ao3 for things to read, before i kind of. ran out. this was during the weeks i was meant to be studying and writing an essay, and i was doing literally anything except that, so i had a lot of time on my hands. now, ive always been a sucker for fake character death and angst, so i decided hey, why not shove my newest blorbo tim into something like that! initially, it was going to be a one shot where tim was trapped in a collapsing building and was crushed to death, only to crawl his way out eventually while the bats were looking for his body. i wrote the beginning, and then when i looked back up i had 10k words and a completely different plot. and so banshee in a well was born.

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

yes and no! i try to actively avoid writing stuff that requires a lot of technical knowledge because im a) lazy, and b) easily distractible. the moment i start researching when i want to write means i tend to fall down a wikipedia rabbit hole and end up with knowledge about 9th century chinese concubines. do not ask. BUT that doesnt mean i never do it, especially if im writing about a specific culture or religion. for example, i did some research into jewish funeral practices for banshee in a well, and read some articles by rabbis about whether you need to sit shiva for neglectful parents.

ive also been doing a bit of research into stomach cancer atm for 'and you know this will be gone in the morning'. i also absolutely got on a watch list while looking up other things for banshee, such as: how long does it take for blood to be deoxygenated, how do you get down from a noose, can you survive a ruptured lung.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

here's a bit from my generational depression fic 'To Find Forgiveness In The Weeds' (cw: depression and suicidal thoughts). thanks for the ask!!!

There isn’t really any sort of final straw. Maybe it would be better if there was some kind of definitive moment that he could point to and say ‘there, that’s where it all started, that’s what made me this way’. He almost wishes there was a catalyst like that, because then it would be a lot easier to explain away most of it. But Tim’s life has never been straightforward, so instead, it goes like this:

At 8am in the morning on a Tuesday, as he’s getting ready for work, Tim looks into the mirror while adjusting his tie, and realises that he doesn’t want to be alive anymore.

A mental breakdown would be easier. This sort of quiet realisation doesn’t really give much way to screaming and crying, nor is there anything he can even do with it. Granted, he’s always thought of dying in some sort of manner, but he’s never bluntly admitted to himself that he’d prefer to be dead. Most of the time, it shows up in an abstract, distant way. The temptation of a high rooftop, the ease of a subway track, the simplicity of a rope. Sometimes he’ll see death traps and feel a pull towards it. Not an active wish, so much as a temptation. A soft, gentle thought of ‘I’m tired. Wouldn’t it be nice to be dead?’

But it’s always been chased away, the logistics of actually dying and their impact keeping him away from ledges and chairs. The clean-up would be such a hassle, his brain would point out, and he’d agree. Someone would have to scrape him off the floor or tracks if he was selfish enough to do it in public, and that’s not even mentioning the traumatised passer-by’s. Ultimately, killing himself would cause more trouble than it’s worth, and that’s always been enough for him to ignore those thoughts and chalk them up to a flight of fancy or a call to the void rather than genuine suicidal ideation.

There’s none of that when he looks in the mirror and consciously acknowledges that maybe, just maybe, Tim doesn’t really want to live anymore. That, if given the chance, he can’t confidently say he wouldn’t take such an opportunity.

It’s a strange thought to have, and he finally lets his hands drop away from his tie as he observes himself. He’s seen suicidal people before, of course, both as Tim Drake and Robin and Red Robin. He watched as Bruce threw himself into deadlier and deadlier fights, uncaring of the consequences. He’s gently talked to people shivering on the edge of a skyscraper, eyes screaming for help despite their hollowness.

He doesn’t really fit that image, though logically, he knows that depression takes different forms. And that’s another thought that stops him and makes him furrow his brow. Is he depressed? Depression tends to cause suicidal ideation, so it would make sense, but once again, he’s never needed a therapist or broken down in tears from sadness.

He takes a few steps back to perch on his unmade bed. Messiness is a sign of depression, he remembers, but he’s always been messy. His father was the same way.

Except...

He glances around his room, frowning at the overflowing waste basket, the crumpled up cans and balled up protein wrappers. Clothes are haphazardly dumped into a corner, because he rarely has the energy to put them away. There’s dust everywhere except his bed, bathroom and desk, and kitchen roll still sticks to a spot on the carpet where he spilled some soda and forgot to clean it up.

It isn’t exactly the expected luxury penthouse of a CEO.

His room in Wayne Manor had been untidy, but it was the general clutter of a distracted teenager. He would still throw trash away, would dust and mop up spills when needed, because Alfred had enough on his plate already and tidying their rooms had always been their own responsibility.

His apartment, however, is messy in a way that indicates he’s stopped caring.

The thought is quiet in his mind, but it’s enough to stop everything else.

Has he?

Has he stopped caring?

[nin-jay-go]

mmmmmmm i have only been thinking about ninjago for the past few weeks. you will be here for my brainrot

so ive got this rewrite i'm working on rn, which ive called alterline (portmanteau of alternate timeline) since like 2018. ive picked it back up and i'm officially working on the rewrite, but for it i added a few new seasons. specifically 3 brand new fanseasons.

the other two don't matter right now. all that matters is s17. my mad science season.

fun fact about me i am in love with mad science stuff and i figured hey! why not! i needed to do Something with my s17, so why not work some fucked up science into it :)

the tldr for those who don't wanna hear me ramble or don't wanna see what i will be rambling about (bc heavy tw for mad science themes like body horror, vivisection, and general medical malpractice) is below, but one bit of information before we proceed. nya is still the ocean. let her stay dead for longer than 2 episodes !

s17 is a kai focus! he and the ninja get invited to a lab by a scientist to run some tests (they are still powerless), but she traps them and runs experiments on them. there, they find out that 1) nya is alive now, 2) dr cy is working with aspheera, and 3) the new ninja are clones of the old ninja. kai ends up blowing the lab up and going on a minor destructive arc before calming down. the rest of the season focuses on the new ninja realizing they're clones and helping the old ninja take out mayor trustable.

so now that the summary is over. time to get into the details (or just what i have so far)

hi thanks for uncovering the hell. i'm gonna be rambling for a while.

again, this is a kai-focused season! we haven't had one since my s11 and he deserves to have a focus. as a treat :) (i realize this is just kai suffers the season. i realize that. but it's fiiiiine don't worry)

some prehistory for the season. dr cy calls up aspheera for her magical talents, and they summon nya together. they pull her from the ocean and violently rip her back into her body. of course, she can only be here if her powers are gone, so aspheera drains her water powers. nya has no memory of who she was or what she's doing here. she just knew she was the ocean. and now she's here.

a month later, the ninja are ninja-ing. it's been a year since the events of crystalized, two since nya died. that's the longest any of them stayed dead (sans morro who was dead for 40 years). kai really misses her, but has accepted the fact that she's gone. (she helped out in crystalized, but she wasn't really nya. she was the sea)

he runs into dr cy, who offers him and the ninja an opportunity to get tested. she could figure out the origin of elemental powers and help restore them to the ninja. they deserve their powers back, after saving the world so many times! she's a huge fan!

kai discusses it with the team, who agree that it's worth a shot at least. pixal stays behind since she's mostly unaffected by elemental nonsense, but also to keep an eye on the new ninja. she doesn't trust them. plus, if it ends up being bad, she can break them out.

the first tests kinda go normally, just general doctor checkups. she's just being a little bit weird about the nonhuman members of the team (aka everyone but kai), but a lot of people end up being weird about it. jay's publically part snake, zane's obviously a nindroid, lloyd is lloyd, cole used to be dead, and morro's got their own thing going on.

(oh. some background context. in my rewrite the ninjas' public identities are secret. the only ones with a face and name known to the public are lloyd and morro, to an extent, and jay for those who remember the alternate timeline)

when the ninja thank cy for her time and investigation, she uh. traps them in there JKDFSHKJSFDH because she needs to find out where elemental power comes from. and how she can bring it back for the ninja. to restore them to their full glory.

they're stuck in there for a while. a week, maybe? i haven't decided how long exactly, but a Long Time. pixal does try and rescue them but is taken out by aspheera with water powers, meaning pixal is the first person to find out about nya being alive. she doesn't take it well, so she and aspheera are kinda duking it out out there

meanwhile, the ninja are being put through tests to activate what's called their elements' emergency response, aka a hypercharged form designed for protecting the body and the element. kind of like nya's merged form with the ocean, but temporary. cy is trying to activate the emergency response through putting the guys through Situations that they don't like one bit. one of them included kai in a super frozen room and zane in a super boiling room, morro being pretty much buried, and other stuff like that.

sometimes she tries to stimulate them further by exposing them to their element, like frying jay or lloyd with electrical currents, or piling heavy boulders on cole. maybe that will trigger their emergency responses, but nothing seems to work. she even tries it out with nya to see if she can summon back her water powers, but nya's kind of being a sad sack of amnesia right now.

speaking of nya, she's just kinda. here? around the lab? she's mostly locked in her cell, but she treats aspheera and cy as important people, like parents. she trusts them. she's also kinda having a bad time physically, constantly melting and dripping water. she's not really a solid person right now :(

[tw for vivisection begins here] so eventually, cy tries to take it a step further and pulls out some Forbidden Things. she needs to make kai's fire act up more. he's 100% human still. how would his body react to parts of a fire dragon? so she tries it out, doing a quick lung transplant to see if, maybe, the lungs being close to the heart could kickstart a bit of fire. maybe even some dragon blood? all to see how kai reacts to it.

he reacts badly.

congratz on the dragon parts now, kai! the last human is no longer human, not fully. he refuses to acknowledge that he isn't fully human anymore, denying that he'll probably never breathe the same way humans do again. it's fine. he's fine. [end tw]

through this, however, cy decides to keep a closer eye on his developments. eventually, she lets him in on a secret. she leads him to the back of the lab, a room that no one is allowed to enter. she shows him what's inside.

it's cloning pods. she had already had their dna for who knows how long, and had used it to essentially clone them. make perfect ninja replicas. ones that had all their skills. only five managed to survive the process and come out the other end alive. cy reveals this was something she was hired by mayor trustable to do, and when the clones finished growing, he took them off her hands.

but she's always hated him for that. the original ninja would always be superior. the clones could not come close, ever. that's why she's so adamant about bringing their powers back. she wants them to wipe their clones out and prove they're superior.

kai thinks that's absolutely unhinged and manages to escape, running through the lab. he took a wrong turn and finds a cell, where nya is sitting. his sister is alive. he and nya talk, but it's obvious she doesn't know who he is, or who she even is. kai promises to get her out, but nya doesn't understand. he leaves and gets captured and sent back to his cell.

he goes to visit nya's cell sometimes, now that he knows where she is. he tries reminding her of her memories, to which she listens to best she can. she's a bit... spacey. but it's ok, they're bonding.

that is, until cy catches him visiting her and gets pissed. she threatens to hurt nya if he doesn't back off and go back to his cell, to which he snaps and activates his emergency response. his sister is in danger. he would not let his family be in danger.

he becomes a wildfire and destroys the lab. it gets burned down, its entire foundation gone. and for her cruelty, for what she did to him, his friends, his family, his sister, kai kills dr cy.

still in his emergency response, he can't do much other than rampage, a living wildfire. the others find nya and they all get out of there. pixal, meanwhile, is holding kai back and fighting him off. he's not kai right now, just a mess of fire and rage. it hurts to see him like this.

but nya sees him like that. memories flood back. the element of water rushes back to her (aspheera losing hold on the magic) and she turns back into the sea. she has her memories. she stares kai in the firey face and they calm each other down. their emergency states fade away, leaving two not-quite humans in their wake. kai realizes what he did in his state. nya realizes how long it's been. they're both sobbing messes against each other.

now that cy and the lab are gone, and nya and kai have their elements back, there's two issues to solve. the first is the others' elements, which they don't really want to trigger the emergency response for. the other is the new ninja, their clones.

the og ninja decide to tell the new ninja directly that they know they're clones. turns out the new ninja also did not know they were clones. so that was a fun development where the new ninja realize that Oh God. they're not even actual people. they were just made for one purpose.

the bizarros also get involved. it becomes very confusing to have like three people with the same face in the same room, but the bizarros deserve to know there's clones of their light counterparts. i'm normal about my bizarros.

with their combined effort, they overthrow mayor trustable. and everyone lives happily ever after. more or less.

the new ninja agree to also be city protectors, since they were literally made for that, but that they'll also learn to live their own lives and figure out who they are as people. they aren't the bizarros, who are kinda predisposed to doing bad things.

kai is having a time, meanwhile. he killed someone. he isn't human anymore. he's changed. if there's any more room left in the season, it's left for kai to discover who he is again. maybe he goes on a vacation. they all can go on vacation. they deserve it.

how did the others get their elements back? fuck if i know <3 i haven't gotten that far yet kjdhfgkjdhfg

[sydmarch]

Hey can I ask what you meant by a formal dx putting your autonomy at risk? I just got dxed a couple months ago and I keep seeing people allude to this stuff, but can’t really find any sources. Though I’ve chosen not to disclose to work or to my doctor (just psychiatrist) so maybe that makes a difference?

I dont have any sources atm honestly it's mostly a decision I've made based on anecdotes I've heard from fellow autistic trans people discussing how having an official diagnosis has made it more difficult for them to get gender affirming care & as someone who's interested in a somewhat non standard top surgery (reduction rather than a complete removal but not really like the "usual" reduction bcus im already relatively speaking small chested) I don't want any potential barriers in the way of that getting taken seriously. I'm also interested in tubal ligation and thats already something ive heard enough horror stories about even cishet nt women who already have children having difficulty getting doctors to give the ok to so i am NOT looking to have a potential barrier in the way of that either & yeah things like disclosing at work & other situations could potentially open up another can of worms but I don't really know much about that side of things. I also just like, don't have much faith in things in the world getting better ableism wise anytime soon lmao & when countries like australia (& possibly nz iirc?) already prevent disabled people including autistic people from immigrating it just does NOT feel worth it to me to have a dx on my record when who knows if other countries might follow suit someday, & who knows if eventually I'll have to get out of the USA for some reason? but this is just my somewhat pessimistic view & I feel like getting a dx or not is something deeply personal and depends on your circumstances. if the benefits someone will get from it outweigh the potential downsides great! I personally don't see any real benefit to getting a dx since I've gone undiagnosed long enough that I've managed to figure out how to deal with things on my own. maybe it would've been nice for people to have noticed I needed help when I was younger & VERY OBVIOUSLY dealing w lots of sensory issues looking back & I wouldn't have HAD to figure everything out on my own but that's water under the bridge now. anyway this kind of got away from your original question but yeah