#i haven’t lived here for more than five years now but its like they took something away from me

[alwaysmicado]

smile, baby

5.1k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: D/s dynamic, drinking, degradation, orgasm denial, masturbation (m), spitting, big fat cumshot Summary: Nathan teaches you a lesson in submission. You hate love it. A/N: Filth with heart. I can't be normal about this man, okay? Can be read alone or as a prequel to in control and predator & prey. Enjoy and let me know what you think! 🤍

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks. “Giving up control. Being able to turn your brain off.”

– – –

“What are we doing tonight?” You sit down on the couch beside Nathan, a glass of wine in hand. 

“I’m watching TV,” he answers coldly without as much as a glance in your direction.

“Hmm…okay,” you murmur. You take a generous sip from your glass, appreciating Nathan’s excellent taste in wine. It’s your favorite; you discovered it on a trip to France during your college years and haven’t been able to find it since then. 

What an incredible coincidence that he would just have it here, right?

Not right.

Unbeknownst to you, Nathan meticulously arranged every single detail of your living environment before you even crossed the threshold of his mansion for the first time. 

The exquisite wine you now sip, seemingly a stroke of luck, was deliberately stocked to align with your taste. Much like the lavender shampoo that envelops you in its soothing fragrance during each shower, the never-ending supply of fresh strawberries, and the perpetually replenishing KitKats in your minibar, each aspect of your surroundings has been carefully curated to ensure your every comfort is met.

You haven’t really picked up on that fact yet, as you’re still in the process of settling into your new, exciting, but overwhelming environment.

In the two weeks since moving in, you’ve immersed yourself in the intricacies of artificial intelligence, navigating the uncharted waters of innovation under Nathan’s eccentric mentorship.

And eccentric, he is.

It took you five minutes of mostly one-sided conversation to realize that his intellect, an unmatched force of brilliance, is rivaled only by the staggering magnitude of his ego.

And, even more strikingly, it took you just as little time to realize you’ve never craved another human being as badly as you do him. There’s just something about him…beneath all the arrogance and assholery. You can’t put your finger on it, but you feel it’s there.

Nathan sensed your immediate attraction to him, of course, reading your microexpressions and body language. And after a few days of subtle teasing, he decided to give you a small taste of pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of, only to leave you without it for the past week since then.

Beyond lingering glances, the subtle brush of his hand against the small of your back in the kitchen, the knowing smirk when he catches you stealing glances at the bulge in his shorts, or his deliberate choice to work out shirtless—Nathan has been purposefully cold, relishing in your growing desperation.

For him, this is more than a game; he revels in a level of amusement he hasn’t experienced in years.

He could never get the androids to look at him with the same intensity, hunger, and raw need he can see in your eyes, and the control he now holds over your desires is a source of unparalleled satisfaction.

He definitely made the right choice by selecting you.

Nestling your feet under you in an attempt to find comfort on the cushion, you silently study your boss’s profile, observing as he brings the fourth bottle of beer to his lips. Your eyes slowly trace the distinct contours of his nose, the meticulous lines of his beard, the strength evident in his neck and shoulders, until they finally reach the casual sprawl of his naked feet at rest on the coffee table.

His lidded eyes remain unwaveringly fixated on the screen as he leisurely surfs through the channels, a deliberate act of indifference that extends to ignoring your presence. You nervously chew on your lip, trying your hardest not to break the silence first, even though you so obviously want to.

Seemingly absorbed in the movie he settled on, Nathan is keenly aware of your eyes repeatedly drifting towards him, lingering for a few seconds before retreating reluctantly back to the indifferent glow of the screen. 

You’re so cute when you’re trying to be coy. 

“Did you think of me?” he asks suddenly, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Did I…huh?” you respond, startled, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He turns his head to look at you, his face revealing no emotion, his dark eyes piercing yours. A shiver runs down your spine as his gaze drops to your lips for a split second before finding your sparkling eyes again. 

“When you were fucking yourself with that purple dildo last night. Did you think of me?” He peers at you with a straight face, casually taking another sip from his bottle. 

“Wha–”

Your heart skips a beat, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks as his words hang in the air. Shocked and exposed, your eyes widen, and your body tenses. After a few endless seconds, surprise turns into a mixture of anger and humiliation as you figure out how he knows.

Mother. Fucker. There’s a fucking camera in your room.

“No need to act embarrassed, baby,” he scoffs. “You put on quite a show.”

“It’s not technically a show when I’m unaware that my pervy boss is watching me, though, is it?” you snap at him, crossing your arms defensively in front of your chest.

“Yeah, well. It’s all in the NDA you signed.”

“Oh, of course it is,” you chuckle incredulously, looking up at the high ceiling of the living room. 

“Did you think of me?” Nathan asks again, his eyes not leaving you.

“Uh...yeah, I did.” You down the rest of your wine in one go.

“Tell me about it.”

You sigh deeply. “You saw everything, so why don’t you tell me?” you say, unsuccessfully trying to mask your embarrassment with annoyance.

Nathan raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond.

When he had you on your knees in front of him a week ago, hands tied behind your back, allowing you a few seconds to catch your breath before going back to fucking your throat, he asked if you’d thought of him while touching yourself. You were flying high at that point, teetering on the edge, so desperate for release that you would have admitted anything he asked.

And so, you blurted out the truth. 

He can tell you regret it now, but that only makes him want to push you further. The thought of forcing you to admit what you want, what you are, has his cock hardening in his sweatpants. 

“Okay, fine,” you murmur, unable to take the deafening silence anymore. You clear your throat and shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“I couldn’t fall asleep and thought…you know, an orgasm might help. So I started with my hand, trying to get myself off as fast as possible. But then, um, that wasn’t enough,” you trail off, your gaze avoiding his, and you set the empty wine glass on the coffee table with a sigh.

“Look at me, baby.”

Nathan studies your face, typically adorned with a confident smile, and feels a surge of satisfaction as he takes in your dilated pupils and bashful expression. This is turning you on.

“Continue.”

“My fingers weren’t enough, so I thought I could use the toy I brought. I, um,” you inhale and exhale deeply, “I imagined it was you and I thought of what you…I thought of what you’d do to me.”

Anxiously, you search his eyes for a sign of approval, your heart racing in your chest.

“What did you think I’d do to you?” he asks, taking a swig of his beer without breaking eye contact.

You swallow audibly, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your cheeks ablaze with heat. The sensation coursing through your body is undeniable—an intoxicating blend of humiliation and arousal.

Under Nathan’s intense scrutiny, you can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing second, succumbing to the forbidden pleasure of confessing your innermost, shameful desires.

“I thought you’d grab me like last time and kiss me…kiss my neck, bite my lip, hold me down while…” you stop again, too ashamed to go on.

“Hold you down while?” Nathan prompts, making it clear that you’re not done talking.

You tilt your head and furrow your brow as your gaze lingers on the man who has dominated every waking thought since the first time your eyes locked with his.

He’s condescending, self-centered, moody, and so used to playing God in his kingdom of androids that he’s seemingly forgotten how to connect with humans and their emotions. And yet, there’s an inexplicable allure about him that has you longing for his touch, his attention, his…guidance.

What is going on with you?   

“I imagined you’d put your weight on me, keeping me pinned down, making it impossible for me to get away,” you say, peering at him through your lashes. “You’d fuck me, hard, using me in any way you like.”

You bite your lip and shift in your seat, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you catch sight of Nathan’s hard cock twitching beneath the elastic fabric of his sweatpants. He’s still looking at you, his casual demeanor unchanged, beer in hand on his belly. 

“You’d take, um, you’d take control of me, choking me, muffling my screams with your hand, grabbing my tits. I’d beg you to let me come, you’d bring me right to the edge and then you’d stop, denying me over and over again, and using me until I…”

“Until you?”

The subtle arch of Nathan’s eyebrow, the lingering scent of his beard oil, the way his lips press against the glass bottle’s opening—it all ignites an overwhelming surge of arousal within you, urging you to give him what he wants.

“Until I couldn’t take it anymore,” you purr seductively, your pupils so dilated your eyes are black.

“Is that the thought that made you squirt all over your bed?”

Your jaw drops and your chest tightens, the humiliation intensifying as he talks about this intimate, vulnerable moment with such nonchalance. Like it’s not a complete invasion of your privacy. Like he’s not penetrating the very core of your personal boundaries. 

You feel a flutter in your stomach, and your throat constricts as you struggle to find your words.

“I…no,” you murmur, averting your gaze. Your eyes land on Nathan’s hand gripping the bottle a little harder than before. “What pushed me over the edge was you telling me to come.” 

When your eyes meet his again, you recognize the same dark glint in them that you saw seconds before his lips crashed against yours for the first time. 

“I would beg you to let me come over and over again, and you’d always deny me…until you decided I deserved it. And when you, uh, when you ordered me to come on your cock, I came so hard I lost all control.” 

Nathan can barely hold back a groan as you confess your desire for his dominance. His cock is leaking precum, staining the inside of his pants. He’s this close to ripping your clothes off and taking you right here, right now, burying himself deep inside you and filling you up with his cum. 

But that’s not the plan for tonight.

“Is that so,” is all he says, turning his head back to the TV, a satisfied, almost unnoticeable smirk playing on his lips. He chugs the rest of his beer, then sets the empty bottle down on the little side table next to him. 

Keeping his eyes on the flickering screen, he purposely ignores you again, reveling in the escalating neediness and desperation he perceives from you. He can sense your fidgeting and squirming beside him, uncertain of your next move. After a brief pause, you lift your hand but retract it hesitantly. Amused, Nathan catches a glimpse of your indecision from the corner of his eye.

You’re such a perfect little slut—beautiful, eager, smart, pliant. And it just tickles him that you could scream at him to fuck your ass harder during sex, but act all shy and flustered when asked to talk about it. 

Another minute of silence, and you’re unable to resist any longer. Your swollen clit is painfully sensitive, your damp panties are clinging to your pussy, and your brain is screaming at you to make a move. You reach out again, this time making contact with Nathan’s clothed chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart becomes palpable under your touch, and feeling his body connected with yours has you pressing your thighs together. 

Your breath quickens as you slowly start trailing your hand down his chest and his belly, but before you get a chance to touch his cock, he stills your hand with his.

“Don’t,” he says without looking at you.

You wince and immediately pull your hand away, clasping it protectively against your chest with your other hand.

“I thought…sorry.” You look at him like he just slapped you.

Nathan sighs, but doesn’t say anything. There’s no scolding, no inquiries, no indication of what he wants you to do—it’s unnerving. You’re fidgeting with your shirt again, clearing your throat, and shifting your legs, trying to find a position that will alleviate at least some of the burning ache in your core. 

“Can I–” you say quietly, but cut yourself off. You’re facing him completely now, feet tucked under you, hands on your thighs, a silent restraint preventing you from reaching out to touch him again.

Satisfied that you’re learning, he decides to reward you with his attention. His eyes find yours again, and he’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. It’s not just lust or neediness; no, you’re lost. Completely, unequivocally lost without his orders.

Nathan’s used to Kyoko looking at him with a blank face, awaiting his commands, reacting to his actions, doing what he programmed her to do. But this is different.

You actually want him to tell you what to do.

He takes his feet off the coffee table and scoots back in his seat, spreading his legs. “Sit on the floor,” he orders, watching with an imperceptible smile as your eyes light up. You quickly get off the couch and kneel on the floor between his legs, your eyes fixated on the outline of his cock inches from your face.

You want to taste it so bad you can feel yourself salivating at the sight. You bite your lip and move a little closer, looking up at Nathan expectantly before gently putting your hands on his thighs. He lifts his hips slightly, groaning at the delicious feeling of his tip rubbing against his pants. You take that as a sign to continue, moving your hands further up to the waistband.

“No,” he says calmly before you can pull it down. 

“Why not?” You don’t pull away your hands this time. “You’re hard. Why won’t you let me–”

“Look.” He leans down to tilt your chin up with his thumb and index finger. “I get that you’re a needy whore and seeing my cock instinctively makes you want to suck it, I really do, baby,” he scoffs, condescension dripping from his words. “But I honestly thought you’d be able to follow a simple instruction even dogs can understand.”

A sharp inhale catches in your throat and your eyes widen at his demeaning words. Your gaze locked onto his, you can feel a surge of frustration coursing through your veins, tinged with a spark of defiance. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure.

Nathan tilts his head, studying your expression, your reaction. You could have slapped him by now, stormed off, told him to go fuck himself—anything. But no, you’re still kneeling between his legs, lust and determination evident in your eyes.

“Let’s try this again, hm?” His thumb gently traces your bottom lip. The sensation sends a wave of ecstasy through your body and it takes all of your self-control not to start sucking on his finger. He can read in your eyes what you’re thinking, so he repeats the motion with your upper lip just to test your resolve. 

The way you squirm under his touch is mesmerizing and oh so gratifying.

“Sit on the floor.”

He releases his hold on your chin, reclines into the couch, grabs another beer from the side table, and redirects his attention back to the TV. 

You decide to crawl out from between his legs, ensuring he gets a tantalizing view of your shapely ass in those snug yoga shorts. Leaning against the couch with a deep sigh, you position yourself next to his leg. You glance up at him, searching for a sign that he’s happy with your obedience—and also very much hoping for a reward that involves him fucking your brains out again. 

It’s not as if you don’t deserve it for enduring his grandiose monologues and drunken crying sessions every other night. Besides, you’re hot, and he should be so lucky…

To your frustration, though, he’s ignoring you again, absentmindedly tapping the beer bottle with his index finger as his eyes stay focused on the movie. He can feel your annoyance, your anger, and it’s almost enough to get his softening cock hard again.

You sit in silence for a minute before quietly scooting closer and gently leaning against Nathan’s leg. Feeling him, even through fabric, is enough to embolden you to go further. You look up at him, trying to be sneaky. He doesn’t look at you. His eyes are fixated on the TV, one hand cradling his beer, the other casually draped over the backrest. 

You’re not giving up that easily. Your pussy won’t let you. Just one little touch, and you’re convinced you can get him in the mood. Just one little touch, and he won’t be able to resist you. Just one little–

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Then why the fuck am I down here?”

“Because I want you to be.”

“Oh, wow,” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “And now what? You think I’m just gonna sit here and watch you get drunk?”

He ignores your pouting.

“I got better stuff to do, you know.”

He turns up the volume of the TV. 

“This is so dumb, Nathan. Why do you want me to sit here if you’re just gonna ignore me?”

“You like it when I tell you what to do,” he says calmly.

You’re taken aback by his statement and furrow your brow. “Well, yeah…but this isn’t…I–”

He looks down at you, effectively shutting you up.

It’s absolutely amazing how he can watch in real time as the defiant fire in your eyes fizzles out. The small, self-satisfied smile creeping across his arrogant face stings.

He’s such a cocky bastard.

You huff agitatedly, cross your arms in front of your chest, demonstratively turn away from him, and kick your legs out from under you. Nathan, on the other hand, relaxes in his seat. He’s thoroughly enjoying your little show, and your pouting doesn’t bother him. Not as long as you’re doing what you’re told. 

After a few minutes of listening to the blood rushing in your ears and the occasional gulping sound coming from Nathan working on his beer, you can’t hold it back any longer.

“I’m not just gonna stay down here,” you hiss at him. 

“Yes, you are.”

Unbelievable. 

You stare at him incredulously. “And what makes you so sure of that, huh? I could just walk away and leave you here to sulk. I don’t need this, okay? And you–you can’t just–”

Nathan says your name sharply. “Stop your whining. You’re sitting on the floor because I told you to. That’s it.”

He looks at you, his eyebrow arched, daring you to defy him.

“That’s it?” you repeat, your eyes narrowed. 

Nathan smirks and turns towards the TV again, slowly sipping his beer.

“Yup. That’s it.”

You glower at him, and, for a brief moment, he half-expects you to finally get up and storm out in frustration. He wouldn’t mind, really. But there seems to be a subtle shift within you, and after a few tense seconds, you release a long, aggravated breath. Turning away from him, you cross your arms with annoyance, and firmly plant your back against the couch.

Nathan keeps an eye on you, observing how your tense posture relaxes and how you make yourself comfortable after a few more minutes of sitting at his feet. 

It’s an image he wants to savor.

You’ve been good for some time now, doing what he told you to do, submitting to him nicely. He decides to reward your obedience, reaching out to pet the back of your head. You’re startled and your body stiffens at his touch, but he can feel you relax more and more with each gentle stroke of his palm up and down the nape of your neck. He gives you a soothing massage, soft scratches, allows you to lean into his touch. 

He’s stroking you for some time, relishing the feeling of dominance, of control, until a quiet moan escapes your lips. 

Nathan smiles to himself and tightens his grip on your neck for a few seconds, intensifying the sensation. You sigh in pleasure and close your eyes, getting lost in his forceful touch. He then loosens his grip, and you release a contented sigh as you rest your head against his leg. He lets you, gently scratching your scalp, your soft moans music to his ears.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “It’s so much better when you do what I say, hm?”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your brow furrowed.

Seeing you look up at him with those pretty, lust-filled eyes of yours is enough to get his cock hard again.

“You can just do what you’re told,” he says, his fingers gently tracing your neck. “You don’t have to think, or ask questions. You can just let yourself fall and give up control.”

Your eyes widen, and he caresses your cheek. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks. “Giving up control. Being able to turn your brain off. Not having to think for yourself, not having to make decisions.”

You don’t respond, mesmerized by his dark eyes and calm voice. There’s a hint of surprise in your expression, but that doesn’t surprise him. You’ve been suppressing your desire for submission for a long time, and now, he’s presenting you with the chance to finally embrace it.

“If I want you to sit on the floor because that’s where I feel you belong, you don’t ask why. You just do it,” he says, running his thumb over your lips again. “Right?”

You nod slowly and press your thighs together with a little whine. Your panties are drenched and it physically hurts you how empty you feel.

“Very good,” Nathan murmurs, pressing his thumb against your lips, and giving you a quick nod when you look at him questioningly. You open your mouth for him to slide his finger inside, your eyes going even wider at the sensation.

Nathan’s cock twitches at your total submission.

He gently thrusts his thumb in and out of your mouth, sliding it along your warm tongue. You suck and lick it seductively, eyes half-closed as you hum around the digit, swirling your tongue around it as if to show him what his cock is missing.

He sucks in a sharp breath and takes his thumb back out of your mouth, pulling down your bottom lip slowly before bringing his face close to yours.

You half-expect him to kiss you, but instead he murmurs, “Clothes off, hands on your thighs.”

He watches contentedly as your eyes light up, and you eagerly follow his orders, pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, pulling down your shorts and panties in one swift motion.

“Kneel over there,” he says, directing you to a spot away from the couch.

He gets up and pulls down his sweatpants, letting them fall onto the floor. You stare at his cock with need, awe, and a tinge of fear—your holes were sore for days after your last encounter. He smiles to himself, crossing the distance between you two, and positioning himself in front of you. 

You’re sitting back on your heels, thighs spread, your hands firmly placed on them, your glistening pussy on display. There’s a smooth arch in your back and your head is tilted upwards as you wait for further instructions.

Nathan looks down at you, his eyes scanning your naked body, spits in his hand and starts stroking his cock. He groans at the delicious feeling of finally getting some relief. He hasn’t jerked off all day, despite watching the tape of you fucking yourself after he got up this morning. And after lunch. And again this afternoon.

To say he’s pent up would be an understatement.

“That’s it,” he moans, wasting no time to tease himself. His right hand sets a steady pace, sliding up and down his length with honed efficiency.

“I’m gonna come all over your pretty face, baby. And you’re gonna take it like a good girl, aren’t you?”

The thought of it, of Nathan marking you that way, dirty and wrong and everything you’re not supposed to desire, it sends a surge of heat through your body, settling in your clit with a throb.

You whimper an unintelligible response, your eyes fixated on his hand moving in practiced motions around his thick cock. Nathan chuckles above you, and you manage to tear your eyes away from his cock to catch the look of dark amusement on his face.

“You gotta speak up, baby. Or are you too cock-drunk to use your words already?”

You swallow hard and dig your nails into the flesh of your thighs. “Y-yes,” you manage to choke out. Your face burns with humiliation, intensifying your desperation as you plead, “Please come on my face, Nathan. I want you to mark me. Please give me your cum. Please.”

Shocked at your unexpectedly bold words, Nathan’s hand momentarily falters in its movement, before picking up again with increased speed.

A strangled groan bubbles out of his throat, followed by your name and a swipe of his thumb over the tip of his cock. His dark eyes meet yours for a split second, looking down at you as you’re patiently waiting for your reward with an opened mouth.

You writhe and squirm at the sound of Nathan’s groans and the intense sight of him pleasuring himself. You’ve never seen anything hotter. You want to touch yourself, to rub your clit or slip your fingers into your wet core—to finally get some release—but you resist the urge, clenching your hands into fists.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, baby,” Nathan pants, his words coming ragged and tight. He’s so close.

You look up into his lidded eyes and whisper, “Please.”

“You want that, huh? Oh fuck. Such a filthy little cumslut.”

You moan at his words and feel your walls clench in desperation. Your arousal is dripping out of your pussy onto the floor below, an obscene sight that confirms what Nathan already knew. 

You’re loving this.

Nathan’s hand is jerking his leaking cock, fast and firm, as he races toward his orgasm. He’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel—the wet squelching sound of his hand around his slick cock, his grunts and moans, the mumbled curses, the heat radiating off his imposing body.

You see him twitch in his hand and your swollen clit pulsates in response. He increases the speed of his hand and reaches to fondle his balls with his left hand. It takes a harsh squeeze and a “Holy shit, fuck!” before he’s coming with a long, low moan.

Your eyes shut instinctively but you don’t flinch as you can feel it hitting your face and tits in hot, wet spurts. You stay still, like the good girl that you are, moaning as another thick rope of Nathan’s cum lands across your lips, dripping into your mouth, salty and bitter on your tongue. 

You don’t get to see his face as he comes, but the explicit sounds that reach your ears are enough to make you twitch and moan in pleasure, expanding the puddle beneath you.

Nathan strokes himself through his orgasm until his balls are empty and he’s milked every last drop out of his cock and onto your face—until he’s painted you with it, until he’s marked you as his. 

“Goddamnit.”

Spent, he lets go of his pulsating cock, putting his hands on his hips, taking a step back to take a good, long look at his work of art.

Your face is painted white with cum, spread all over your cheeks, chin, and dripping down to your tits. You put on a little show, gathering up the drops with your finger and sensually putting them on your tongue while keeping unwavering eye contact.

“You can swallow,” Nathan says, pleased with your conduct. 

You do as he says, happily adding some more cum from your lips, and swallowing it all down with a blissed-out smile.

“Thank you, Sir,” you coo.

“Such a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, stepping closer. He bends down, grabs the back of your neck forcefully, and tilts your head up.

“Open your mouth, slut. Tongue out.”

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for him to see. He leans in to let a big glob of his spit fall directly into your open mouth. He hums in satisfaction as he watches you swallow it eagerly, and then he finally kisses you, dirty and messy, tasting himself on your tongue. You moan into his mouth, bucking your hips, desperate for him to finally touch your neglected pussy.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips, making you moan. “Now, go get cleaned up.”

Oh no, he wouldn’t.  

You stare at him with wide eyes. “But I–”

“Go. Get. Cleaned. Up.”

“But I haven’t…what about me?” you stammer, your voice trembling. 

“What about you?” he responds with a raised eyebrow, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Your face falls and his cock pulsates at your expression. You look like you’re close to crying, your thighs pressed together to alleviate your aching clit, your nails painfully digging into your palms. You’re shaking with anger and frustration.

Nathan’s never been as turned on as he is from seeing you suffer—you’re just so pretty when you’re denied.

He can already picture himself playing with every part of you for hours on end, denying you over and over again until your body is ablaze with burning anticipation. And then, once he’s finally reduced you to a brainless, overstimulated mess, he’ll wrap his hand around your throat and make you take him until you beg him to stop.

But that’s for another day. 

“Smile, baby,” he smirks, tapping your cum-stained cheek and straightening up to get himself another beer from the kitchen. “You’re on camera.”

– – –

Thank you for reading! 🤍

in control || predator & prey || main masterlist

tagging: @pattwtf @tuquoquebrute let me know if you want me to add you!

[thinking1bee]

You Haven't Failed Part 14

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tags: Spidey!Reader, Venom!Reader, So Much Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut

Everything Taglist: @ara-a-bird, @alexawynters

“Baby, it wasn’t your fault.”

You were already shaking your head and looking away from her before Wanda could finish the words. The memories fizzled from view and in its place was the vibrant green of her eyes. No. It was your fault. Everything that happened then and everything happening now was all your fault. While you didn’t speak, Wanda could see in your dimming eyes that you didn’t believe her. She cupped your cheeks and gently maneuvered your face so that her eyes could meet yours.

“Y/n, you haven’t failed me. You haven’t failed anyone,” she said with such conviction that you couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips.

“Wands,” you began, your voice breaking as you shivered. “I was supposed to protect you. You were supposed to be okay. Instead, you were gone for five years.” The tears flowed faster as you peered deep into softened emerald. “You died. I did fail.”

The tremors in your body were getting stronger and Wanda watched as blood began to drip from your nose. It was now or never. You were out of time.

“Y/n, please, baby, please listen to me,” she begged. “I need you to take off the suit. I can’t lose you. Okay? I just got you back and I don’t want to lose you. Don’t force me to live without you.”

Hearing her plead for you to stay alive disturbed you, and that was because she shouldn’t be in a position where she has to beg you for anything. You wanted to make Wanda happy. She was your happily ever after, and just as you couldn’t live without her, she couldn’t live without you. You didn’t even try to live without Wanda, and she saw so herself. The moment she was gone, you fell apart. You remembered the pain that you were in, the way it felt like glass filled your lungs every time you breathed and how it felt like acid filled your chest where your heart should have been. You weren’t going to put her in the same position. She’d already lost so much. Her parents. Her brother. Her best friend. She couldn’t lose you too. The moment you realized that, you looked into Wanda’s eyes and nodded, your hands, though still covered in Venom, overlapped her hands that still cupped your cheeks.

“Okay,” you whispered resolutely as you nodded.

“Okay,” Wanda repeated, a slight smile overtaking her lips.

She took a step back as you grabbed at the unraveled tendrils. You wrapped them around your hands to ensure you had a good grip, to ensure Venom couldn’t try to escape you. Then, you met Wanda’s eyes. She could see just how weakened you were by this. She could see it in your eye. It was duller, the color almost muted to a black. No matter what happened, she was going to help you. You knew that this was going to hurt so much, and as you took several deep breaths, Wanda nodded to you in encouragement.

“I’m right here, baby.”

Yes. She was right here. Wanda was with you. She was fighting for you, and you were going to fight for her in return. You inhaled one more time before you started to pull with all your dwindling strength. The moment you did, the world around you pulsed violently, and darkness flooded your vision. A high-pitched ringing noise filled your ears, and as you slowly came to, the world now way too bright, you cried out. It was like jagged glass slicing through your skin. It was like needles through your veins. The agony was more intense than you ever could have imagined. Everything burned. Everything stung, and your cries turned into screams as you fought to tear Venom off you. Wanda wrapped her magic around the pieces that were snapping off of you, because that’s what was happening. Venom was clinging on to you desperately, its screeches blending with your screams of agony. Little by little, you peeled the symbiote off you, the alien clutching on to you so fiercely that you were literally snapping thin strings of its flesh from your body. When your face and the tops of your shoulders were bare, you swayed, a whimper leaving you as you buckled. Wanda tried to catch you, but Venom was quick. It tried to wrap itself around you again to take you back over. Wanda stopped it with a small barrier around your exposed body. It beat against her magic, but Venom was growing weaker the more you removed it from your body. You would have face planted onto the street if it wasn’t for Thor. He was in front of you so suddenly, his eyes so blue that it was dazzling to you in your current state. His hands held your shoulders before his searing hot hand cupped your cheek.

“Keep going Y/n! Keep going!”

You nodded as gasping breaths left you, but you took hold of the symbiote and pulled again. Black flesh tore down the middle, and it exposed your naked chest underneath. Wanda wasn’t even going to begin to wonder about your missing clothes. You screamed and screamed, your throat raw as sobs began to mix in with your cries. Thor assisted Wanda, and with his Stormbreaker, began to strike Venom with lightning. From behind, Tony pulled more flesh off your back, and Bruce ensured that Venom wouldn’t get away if it tried to make a run for it. For Wanda, it was torture watching as your cries turned hysterical. Your muscles strained beneath your skin, your entire body taut with strength and pain. Venom was screeching and squealing, its tendrils and sheets of torn flesh writhing hellishly as Wanda, Tony, and Bruce fought to get it off you. With a sickeningly graphic tearing noise, one that made Wanda lurch, Venom was torn away from you. It tried to wrap itself around Tony, but he closed his helmet and began to shoot at it with his repulsors. When it failed, it tried to wrap around Bruce, but Wanda was faster. With a snap of her arms, she encased the alien in an impenetrable barrier of red magic, and watched as it screamed and scratched at the sides. She didn’t spare it a second glance. Her eyes glowed even brighter, her power increasing tenfold as she shot the full force of her magic, her chaos magic, into the alien. It screeched and writhed until it died. Everyone watched as it disintegrated, and when Wanda released the barrier, ash floated away like it was dust in the wind. What was left of Venom disappeared into the night.

Soft, choking gasps grabbed everyone’s attention, and Wanda looked down to see you on your back. Your skin was so pale and beneath it, she could see the full network of black veins. They were like dark, ominous spider webs that covered every inch of you, like dark cracks in your skin. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breaths wheezy and pained as more blood trickled from your nose. Wanda was on her knees beside you in an instant, and upon closer look, she could see your tears streaming down the sides of your face.

“Y/n? Hey, Y/n. I’m here. It’s okay,” Wanda murmured in a soothing voice.

She tucked her red hair behind her ears as she leaned over you, and her hand took yours. She laced her fingers through yours and kissed the back of your hand fiercely. You were shaking. Hard. You could hear her, but you couldn’t feel her. You couldn’t feel her warmth, or the fan of her breath against your cheeks. Wanda’s hand cupped your cheek but to you, all you felt was pressure against your body.

“детка? Can you open your eyes?”

It took so much energy, and even with you trying your best, all you could do was crack them open. Despite the pain that wracked through your body, you gave her a crooked smile.

“God, your accent is so fucking hot,” you whispered, and Wanda laughed as her tears spilled over and dripped onto your body.

“You did it,” she said to you, her fingers resting against the side of your neck. “You won.”

A single breath of air was all you could manage for a laugh. You may have done it, but you didn’t win.

“You have to get up. We have to get you to the compound.”

You looked into her eyes and your vision blurred with fresh tears. Wanda held you close to her, her body shaking with adrenaline and fear. She rested your body on her lap and wiped your tears when they fell faster. You had to choke out your next words.

“I can’t.”

You couldn’t feel your body. You couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. Everything felt so heavy, and you tried to fight against the urge to close your eyes, but you were losing. 

“Don’t say that, Y/n. Please don’t say that.”

Her voice was breaking, and you could tell that she was trying to remain calm. She was trying to hold herself together for you. You hated this. You hated that you were going to put her through the same pain you felt when she died. You wanted nothing more than to be by her side, and to love her along the way, no matter what obstacles life would put you through.

“I love you,” you whimpered, and a sob escaped her.

Her chest heaved as she cupped your cheek with her other hand. Was this what you felt all those years ago? This sense of helplessness that made her want to tear her own hair out? Was it the dread of watching someone die knowing that she couldn’t stop it? She had all these powers. Wanda had all of these amazing abilities. She was the damn Scarlet Witch, and yet she didn’t have the power to save you. This wasn’t like when her parents died, or when her brother died. This wasn’t even like when Vision died. There had been a despairing kind of bitter acceptance that she felt with all of them, though her brother’s death had been the most painful. With you, Wanda felt hysteria claw at the edges of her logical mind, her desperation tearing through her body and wrapping around her heart, and she began shaking her head as she watched your eyes slip shut.

“Y/n? детка? Please…”

Even as she begged, she could feel your heart rate slowing down beneath the fingertips that pressed against your neck. Your heart was tired, and it was trying to keep you alive, but the muscle was sluggish in its own beats. You took a weak breath, and then another raspy one, before you spoke again.

“I-I’m sorry…Wands.”

She felt your hand go slack in her hold. Wanda squeezed her eyes closed, her heart fracturing as painful sobs wracked her body. She leaned over you, her forehead resting against yours as she continued to hold your hand.

“Don’t leave me, детка,” she pled. “Please don’t leave me. Please stay. I love you too.”

You didn’t respond, and for the first time in a long while, Wanda let her grief swallow her whole. She screamed into the night as she sat up, her eyes at the starry sky, but unable to see anything through the tears. She felt the pressure grow in her body, and even as her throat ached, she screamed and screamed and screamed, until a shockwave of red exploded from her body. It engulfed Bruce, Tony, and Thor, who had watched you sadly, but the sheer force of her grief was like a bomb detonating. They were all sent flying backwards as Wanda clutched on to your body, her screams haunting the night and filling it with her sorrow.

Part 15

[amarylliasky]

Number 22! A random scenario I thought about.

Do You Feel Better Now?

Hmm, not behind that one either?

Cale closes the secret passage; the latest one in the long line of secret passages and compartments that he has looked for the children in. Usually, the children spent at least half the day traversing the many hidden paths of the Super Rock Villa. Today, however, he hasn’t seen fur or scale of the children averaging ten years old, though he has caught sight of a flighty Korean teenager. Now if only Choi Han hadn’t kept escaping him.

Catching sight of a dark cloak once more, he resolves to catch the man off guard. If Choi Han was acting strange, then that means he knows where the children are. Or at least, that he knows something.

After even more searching, and eventually reaching the garden, Cale decided to take a small break. Who knew running around a five story villa looking for any sign of its occupants would be so exhausting..

-Are you sure you didn’t miss anything?

It seems even the Cheapskate was tired of this never ending search.

-We’ve been with him this entire time, of course he didn’t. Uuuugghhh. We’ve been looking for hours!! Cale, let’s take a snack break and continue searching after. You haven’t eaten anything aaaalll day!

Of course the Glutton had to chime in with her two cents.

-Hey Super Rock, why did you have to make this stupid villa so ridiculously big?!

-You of all people, Thief? I thought you would appreciate all of the valuables and secret passages.

-Anyone would be frustrated if it took them over two hours to search half a villa, old man!

-Hey! I was in my forties when I died! How is that old?!

-Heh. Well I was in my twenties.

-Hic. Crazy kid, that’s not something to boast about. That’s so saaad! You were all too young! Hic.

-Ah geez.

-Here we go.

-Come on...forty isn’t that young either…

-HAH! So you admit it, old man!

‘Sigh…they’re so loud…’

-In any case, the Thief is right, Super Rock. It has been way too long since Cale started searching. This place is almost…deserted. We haven’t even seen Choi Han in over an hour…

‘Glutton has a point.’ He hadn’t actually seen the Korean in the last hour. It really is..quieter here without everyone.

-Geez, you don’t need to say it like that!

The Crazy Kid complains. Surprisingly, without any cursing. Maybe she’s trying to be considerate? That or she’s almost as tired as he is.

-I mean, you make it sound like they’re never coming back! This isn’t that stupid Wind Island test!

-Crazy Kid!

-Realy?!

-Why would you…

-Oops. Sorry, Cale….I didn’t mean to bring that up. It just sorta…came out..

The Super Rock mentally sighs. For what it’s worth, she really does sound remorseful, but remorse isn’t gonna change how Cale had gone completely stiff at her comment.

They know that Wind Island was a major sore spot for him. Heck, that’s putting it lightly. That test was quite literally his worst fears come to life. It was torture just for them to watch him go through that. To not be able to do anything during the test, Super Rock almost felt like he was going to go crazy with how scared he had been. For them, his friends, who had gone through similar things; for Cale, the child who had lived that nightmare again and again and still had to experience something so horrible; it was almost worse than when he realized that everyone he cared about was gone. Super Rock never wanted to experience something like that happening to one of his people again. And Cale, Cale is most definitely one of his people.

“It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean to.”

All conversation stops as Cale mumbles under his breath. The way his voice shakes ever so slightly doesn’t escape their notice.

It’s not alright. They know that. Cale knows that. It will never be alright. Especially not for him, who doesn’t have the luxury of forgetting something so horrible.

Cale knows she didn’t mean it. Obviously she’s not heartless. None of them are. He doesn’t blame the Crazy Kid for bringing it up,(but he was trying to avoid the comparison as much as possible. Even if the situation was scarily similar.) nor does he blame the Thief for making such a test. At least, not now. She had been insane with grief and anger, unable to make rash decisions, and she had already apologized to him for the test over and over since then. It’s just…It really is a sore spot.. And it seems that no matter how long it’s been, no matter how many times he sees his family happy and whole and alive, there will always be this irrational part of him fearing that what he saw could be his reality. That maybe this is his future. Maybe what he’s living right now is his past. Maybe he’s eternally stuck in a loop where the only thing he does is gain family just to lose them again. Maybe he’s destined to be alone and surviving and empty.

Sometimes he gets stuck in the records. And sometimes they come to him out of nowhere to drag him down into an endless abyss of despair and numbness. Sometimes he wakes up at night and his eyes are locked on a scene he desperately hopes is fake.

He’s been having a lot of those nights lately, now that he thinks about it. Maybe that’s the reason this is getting to him so much.

Shuffle.

Hm?

Step step step..

A shadow is cast over where he slouches on a bench in the villa’s garden. He looks up to see a pair of black irises locked onto his own. When had Choi Han arrived here? Had he been here the whole time and Cale hadn’t noticed?

“I’m sorry.”

What? He’s sorry? For what?

-This dense-!

-Oh come on!

-Sigh…

“I’m really, really sorry, Cale-nim..”

Cale would like to know what exactly he has to apologize for. Did he break one of the windows while training? Did he go too far with a sparring match? Did he try to cook again?

He startles when he feels Choi Han’s hands grasp on to his shoulders tightly, but not enough to hurt. When he looks up(when had he looked down again?), he sees Choi Han’s eyes that hold so much guilt that Cale is momentarily stunned.

“I’m so so sorry, Cale, Rok Soo..”

Huh?

“I’m sorry I left you alone.” Choi Han grits his teeth, eyes locked onto his, as if trying to convey how sorry he is feeling with one look alone. “I should have known-should have realized-….I never wanted to make you cry.”

Wait, what..? Cry?

He brings a hand to his cheek, stunned for a different reason, as he realizes that he was indeed crying. Huh. Why? Why was he crying?

-Cale..

-Punk. You were lost in your records again.

-Hnng. He really cares about you.. Sniffle. He reminds me of my own hyungs. Hic.

-….You do realize that he’s more of an ahjussi, right?

Oh.

For a moment, Cale wasn’t Cale anymore.

For a moment, he had been Kim Rok Soo in his twenties who had just lost everything again. He had been the Kim Rok Soo that never showed any tears outwardly, but inside he felt like he’d been torn to shreds. The Kim Rok Soo that survived because he could not do anything else. Who was numb and tried in vain to push out the bad records but kept drowning in the grief anyway.

For a moment, Cale had thought that he was never Cale in the first place.

-What a scary ability….

He couldn’t forget and he couldn’t remember. He had been stuck in limbo, and Choi Han had been able to see it.

Maybe it’s because he had Choi Jung Soo’s memories. Maybe it’s because he’d been around Cale long enough to be able to read him so easily. Whatever the case, Choi Han had been able to see what Cale was going through. And Cale can’t decide whether to be relieved or angry that he’s so transparent to someone.

The Super Rock spoke gently, yet firmly, as if sensing Cale’s own emotions rather than just hearing his thought.

-Cale, he cares about you. They all do. You know they would never want to hurt you. Cale…

-All they want is for you to be happy. Choi Han, Prince Alberu, Raon, Even your old team..

Flinch

-Your family just wants to see you happy and healthy. Just like you want for them.

Ha

“haha..ha ha ha..”

“U-um, Cale-nim..?” Choi Han nervously looks on as Cale lets out soft laughter, unsure of why exactly his liege is laughing like that. It doesn’t seem like an empty laugh? But it’s not a full laugh? Why exactly is Cale laughing?? Choi Han keeps his hands on Cale’s shoulders, just in case.

Eventually, the laughter subsides.

“Sigh. Choi Han.”

“Yes Cale-nim?”

“You can let go now.”

“A-ah! Yes!”

Choi Han jerks back, as if burned. He nervously stands there, avoiding eye contact.

Cale stands up slowly, stretching his legs after sitting for so long. Huh. Has it really been that long? He can’t exactly see the sky down here.

He closes his eyes and sighs before opening them. He then looks straight at the not-so-young man in front of him.

“Choi Han. Thanks.”

Choi Han raises his eyes to meet Cale’s calm gaze. There’s a not quite smile on his liege’s face.

Choi Han is relieved.

He smiles brightly; what some might even call innocent.

“You’re welcome, Cale-nim.”

———-

Choi Han later reveals that the kids and everyone else was planning a surprise birthday party for “Cale.” Which Cale didn’t know about because he doesn’t know “Cale’s” birthday. Choi Han couldn’t keep it a secret after what happened. I don’t blame him. Deal with your trauma, Cale.

[thewulf]

Interesting || Joel Miller

Summary: I’m craving some more Joel Miller angst to fluff. Hurt/Comfort even? And some Ellie! I haven’t seen much Ellie in your work so maybe her to? Up to you. Timeline set closer to the second game/season... Read Rest Here

A/N: Well... I started playing the second TLOU game and I got to that Abby scene and I'm... a mess. I don't think I can watch the second season of TLOU lmaooo byeee... ANYWAY please enjoy. Heads up - my summer classes are staring up so I'll be slowing way down on my posting for the next 8 weeks. Love you guys!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Y/N

Word Count: 6.5k+

It was cold. So fucking cold. You didn’t have your heavy jacket on you when you had to flee. Running for days. Days turned to nights turned back to days. You had to keep running. Every time you stopped they caught up to you. Hunted. That’s what was going on now. How sick. What a fun world. Hunted for fun at this point.

You kept going until your feet couldn’t physically move anymore. This was it. Hopefully the cold or the hunger took you before they found you. The same group of men who murdered your partner and his girlfriend so easily. Your partner and your good friend not thirty feet from you. Killed as if they weren’t anything. No mercy. Shot right in the chest five time each. You’d been out to use the restroom when they were ambushed. You were saved by mere minutes and a decision.

You’d wanted to scream. The people you’d been traveling the country with after escaping the Austin QZ years prior had been killed so senselessly. They weren’t infected. They weren’t a bother. They weren’t even hunting the area. They were killed for sport. For fun. No use. It’d been nearly twenty years since outbreak days and the horrors that humans committed still never sat right with you. It was so pointless. So senseless. It hurt knowing people were just cruel to be cruel.

It was life or death now. You were standing thirty feet from them and miraculously hadn’t spotted you yet. You took off without another thought. You didn’t have the right boots. You didn’t have the right coat. But this was your only chance. It was either that or get gunned down. As hellish as the world was you had some fucking sick desire to keep living in it. Good old human instinct. Fight to the very end.

You ran until you couldn’t anymore. Until you needed to rest. Finding a tree, you slid down to base of it using the trunk as a pillow. Sleep never came easy before but now? Now it seemed impossible when you were actively being hunted. But you needed it. You had to. So, you tried. Tried your best to get some sleep.

 You felt it before you saw it. Fuck. Maybe you slept longer than you thought you would? How had they caught up to you already? You felt the barrel of some sort of rifle pressed to your temple like you’d felt so many times before. Would this finally be the time a bullet would actually be fired? Your end met?

You were able to turn getting quick look at whomever it was. To your utter surprise it was a girl. A small girl. Not a raider. Maybe just maybe you could talk your way out of this one.

“Who the fuck are you?” She tried to sound intimidating. You knew because you did the exact same. The both of you had to be brash. Aggressive. It was life or death outside the walls of a QZ.

You closed your eyes calculating what the hell to do. Tell her the truth? Lie straight to her face? Try and divert the conversation?

“Where am I?” You asked hearing your voice for the first time in days. It almost sounded foreign to you now.

She scoffed rolling her eyes pushing the gun further into your head, “I asked who the fuck you were.” You closed your eyes slowly feeling he cool metal pushing into the side of your head. She wasn’t going to do it. She didn’t want to do it.

“Y/N. You need to go.” You shivered feeling the effects of the melted snow crawling its way up your jeans. You didn’t have your sleeping bag to shield you between the ground and your clothes.

The barrel of the gun dropped slightly so it wasn’t contacting your head. She must’ve seen the fear in your eyes, “Why would I do that?” She still had the gun pointed at you. You wiggled your legs hoping you’d regain the feeling. You sighed knowing you still wouldn’t make it that far on foot. You were truly gassed.

“I’m being hunted. They’re bound to be here soon kid.” You didn’t feel like elaborating as you closed your eyes leaning your head back on the tree. How had it come to this? How did he die before you? He was the more careful one. He was the more calculated one. He was the one that deserved to live. Not you.

She frowned dropping the gun completely now, “What?”

Eyes opening slightly, you noticed her more relaxed stance, “Some raiders,” You sighed recalling what you’d been through in the last three days. Horror. Definitely your worst three days since outbreak day, “They killed my partner and his girlfriend. I’ve been running from them for a few days. I don’t really know anymore. Every time I think I’ve lost them they catch right back up.” You felt the tears coming on. You’d thought you’d already cried them out over the last three days but apparently not. You would have never of dreamed of crying in front of a stranger like this before. But what’d you have to lose at this point? You’d accepted your death. Who really cared if you cried in front of her. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore.

She groaned suddenly very conflicted, “Fuck.” She threw her rifle over her shoulder, “Stay here.” You nodded seeing her jump on her horse and trot off calling for somebody named Joel.

You smiled knowing it was likely nearing the end for you. She didn’t have the guts to kill you. Not that you blamed her, you wouldn’t either. But you understood the world you now lived in. She had to go get this Joel person to do it. It was fine. You just hoped they would make it quick. Have some mercy on you. The raiders wouldn’t. They would take their time with you since you ran. Maybe it wasn’t the worst option.

You closed your eyes hoping maybe the darkness would take over again. But your wishes didn’t come true when you heard the girl’s voice shout, “Over here.” A much deeper than hers responded with a grunt. Must’ve been the Joel she was calling for.

“Ellie, this is a bad idea. Let’s head back.” You had to agree with him. This was a very bad idea. You tried moving your legs again, but you were left with literally nothing. You knew you weren’t paralyzed because you could feel them. They just didn’t have enough energy to move.

You just knew she was rolling her eyes. She seemed like the type, “Shut up. She’s right over here.” You heard her voice get much closer, “Found ya!” She grinned jumping down from her horse, “Over here old man!” She shouted a little too loudly for your comfort. What if the raiders were close?

“You did.” The smile that crossed your lips was rare. But you knew these would be your last moments anyway. Why not smile? Why not show that human emotion that always wanted to come out but had been refused for decades at this point.

“I brought you these. Well, actually Joel did. But he didn’t need them. You do. So here you go.” She handed you a pile of beef jerky and a bottle of what you assumed to be water.

You took them quickly before looking at her curiously, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Eat up.” She nodded watching you expectedly. You didn’t want to question her, but you had to wonder what the hell she was up to? Maybe they weren’t going to shoot you right then and there.

You shook your head in disbelief. You hadn’t a clue that Joel had been and continued to watch the interaction between the two women before him. Your smile was something like he hadn’t seen in years. It struck a small feeling in his heart as he watched your soft expression study Ellie. He didn’t like that he was thinking these thoughts about you. Last time he let that happen his heart was shattered in an instant when she was bitten. It’s a cruel fucking world he wished he didn’t have to participate in. He’d only looked at you for thirty god damned seconds and you had him questioning everything. What in the hell was wrong with him?

“Why?” You were too curious for you own good.

She shrugged, “Why not?”

You laughed in retort, “I can think of about a million reasons…” Joel smiled enjoying your truthfullness. He knew how sharp you had to be to survive with a partner out in the open let alone by yourself. He didn’t want to be impressed but with each word you spoke he grew a tad more curious.

Ellie stopped you by shaking her head quickly, “Just eat. Are you really arguing about the food right now?” She raised an eyebrow sitting down next to you.

You nodded, “Fair.” Taking a big bite of the jerky not really giving a damn what you looked like. This was everything you needed and more.

“Joel, you can come out now.” Ellie rolled her eyes. You felt a strange solace sitting by the girl. A comfort you rarely felt towards anybody let alone a complete stranger. She was so warm towards you. Unafraid of what you could be capable of. A pure heart.

You watched as the older man slowly approached watching the both of you cautiously. You smiled softly observing his careful nature. You took him in for a moment too long. Eyes making contact on accident you looked away quickly. Making sure to thank Ellie for the food. You knew you wouldn’t make it anywhere without it. Whether she’d admit it or not she literally did save your life.

Even you had to admit he was rather handsome. You’d have guessed he was fifteen or so years older than you. It didn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate what was right in front of you though. I mean come on. He was tall, muscular, gruff, and handsome. So, fucking handsome. It’d been a long time since you’d been able to appreciate a man’s attractiveness, but here you were. Appreciating him. How could you not? The man was everything you could’ve dreamed up.

“Sorry for him. He’s like this normally. Grumpy old dude.” She smiled seeing you devour the second strip. Whether you wanted to admit it or not you were starving, and the jerky strips were delicious.

“You infected?” He asked taking a small, cautious step forward.

You shook your head quickly, “No, I promise I’m not.” You put your hands up when his gun made aim for you. Oddly, you didn’t feel threatened by it. You knew he was doing it for their protection. Again, nothing you wouldn’t do. “Are you alone?” He looked around skeptically as if he didn’t believe your story. Like you’d planned an ambush or something. You didn’t blame him. You’d operated the same way until they got killed. You could never be too careful. You had to laugh to yourself, in a different world the two of you would’ve made amazing partners. You’d agreed with his and her tactics along each step in the overly cautious first meeting.

You nodded your head, “Technically yes. But I am being tracked. Hunted if you will.” You didn’t want to lie to him either. You watched as his hardened face took in your words and softened ever so slightly as he truly registered your words. Hunted. Who would hunt you?

You didn’t give him much time to respond as you went through the same story you told Ellie an hour prior. How the only people you’d loved for so long had been killed so mercilessly. While you were alone you weren’t alone out here. He understood taking a second looking at Ellie before turning back to you.

“Come on.” He sighed pointing at Ellie, “You’re explanin’ this to Tommy and Maria.” He grumbled before hopping on his horse trotting away without waiting on the two of you.

Ellie’s grin instantly brought joy right to you. She wasn’t like anyone you’d met before. Pre or post outbreak. She stood giving you her hand, “Can you stand?”

You nodded knowing you were going to have to find your way onto the horse, “Yeah.” You took her hand letting her pull you up, “Thanks.” You mumbled finding your footing. Using your arm, you leaned on the tree while you let the blood rush through your legs again. Already feeling lightheaded from the exertion, you didn’t know how far you’d actually make it.

“Sure, think you can make it up on Shimmer?” She pointed to the brown horse with a white diamond on its forehead. It was the simple things like naming horses that felt so domestic it almost hurt you. You craved for the world that little 14-year-old you grew up in a lifetime ago. Where you could go horseback riding or apple picking without a care in the world.

You were 16 going on 17 when the world went to hell right before your very eyes. You’d been a lucky one already living in Austin when it was walled off and sealed from the outside world. You’d spent ten years living and working low wage jobs and living in shitty apartment with your brother before he was killed in a random shooting down in the streets not far from where you lived. You’d already lost your mom on outbreak day and your father not long after that.

Then you met him. Joseph. Joey. Your partner. You’d started with small runs just for extra cash, so you didn’t have to work those shitty jobs endlessly. Then he’d convinced you to go on the run with him. It only took him a few months then you’d agreed. You’d met Sasha on the way. His girl. She was quick and smart. You’d become fast friends and the three of you became a trio. For ten years you’d lived as such. You’d never found anyone. It was alright with you. You were just trying to survive. You were ready to live that way for the rest of your life. Overly content with your best friends.

That was until they were murdered.

“I can try.” You walked over slowly, carefully. Thankful for the food you’d eaten only moments prior given you a little strength. You’d managed to find the stirrup and hoist yourself up. Ellie noticed you struggling to throw your leg over, so she helped. Using he shoulder she pushed a leg up and over the smaller horse. You sighed feeling horrifically weak. Thank God you’d managed to be found by two people who weren’t going to hurt you.

“Thanks again, Ellie.” You mumbled grabbing onto her once she hopped in front of you to guide the horse back to wherever the hell they came from.

She kept her eyes forward as she had Shimmer move forward trying to catch up to Joel. She was still on patrol after all, “Yeah, no problem. You owe me though.” She grinned knowing you were kind enough not to argue back.

“Yeah, I mean I do. Saved my ass.” You leaned your head on her back as the horse trotted along. You didn’t want to, but you were exhausted. It was taking everything in you not to pass out right then and there. So, laying on her was your only option to saving the energy needed to stay awake.

You must’ve nodded in and out of consciousness as she shouted at you abruptly, “Y/N!”

“Yeah?” Your eyes opened in surprised. The gentle rhythm of the horses steps stopped so suddenly.

“You’ve gotta stay awake.” She sounded more annoyed than worried. You appreciated her for that. You had to admit you’d be acting the same way.

“I’m trying.” You hummed knowing you weren’t going to make it, “But I feel so heavy.” Your knew your words were slurring as you tried holding onto her tighter. You heard her call for Joel before you slumped into her further succumbing to the darkness in front of you.

You woke under the most comfortable set of covers in what looked to be a home in the woods. Turning in the bed you saw the fireplace was blazing lowly keeping the room cozy compared to the freezing outdoors that had nearly killed you. The memories of the last few hours came rushing back. Looking around you didn’t see anybody in the room with you. Where in the hell were you anyway?

When you stood you noticed the IV hooked up to your arm. That was probably why you were feeling so much fucking better. It was light out. Probably mid-day. That meant you were either out for almost a day since Ellie and Joel found you last night. You rolled the cart with you as you made your way to the bedroom door. You probably should’ve been more freaked out, but you still felt oddly calm about the whole situation. You’d already accepted your death, and this was somehow turning out to be the best-case scenario.

Opening the door, you braced for the worst thankful to be met by a mostly empty living room. The whole thing felt oddly familiar. Like your own family home so long-ago pre-outbreak. You tried walking out only to be stopped by the IV stand getting blocked in the doorway, “Shit.” You groaned knowing you had just inadvertently pulled out your IV and were probably profusely bleeding.

You quickly grasped your forearm with your free hand hoping to stop some of the blood flow.

“Oh! You’re up.” Ellie’s cheerful voice rang from behind you. Spinning around her face dropped once she saw the blood dripping from your arm, “Shit, Maria!” She called loudly for the woman. She just wasn’t good with this kind of stuff. She knew what she was good at and it certainly wasn’t care taking.

“Yes, Ellie?” The woman named Maria came running out of what you presumed to be the kitchen.

Ellie just pointed at you and your arm. Maria’s eyes followed. She didn’t say much before springing into action. She pulled you into the bathroom not far from your room.

“Sorry.” You spoke softly as she worked to close the IV line in your arm.

She shook her head, “It’s okay. Are you alright?” She did a once over of your appearance, much more pleased with your normal color rather than the ghostly pale one you came in with.

“I am. Much better. Thank you. For that. All of this.” You weren’t much for words. Joey never was. Sasha got you talking more often but even she tired of your shorter answers. Ever since your brother passed you hadn’t had much to speak into the world. A part of you died with him all those years ago.

She nodded slowly. Eyes right on the spot of the bleeding. She cleaned it up before wrapping it. Ellie stood in the doorway watching the whole thing. As much as she didn’t want to know she needed to know. She had to know these kinds of things. Maria wouldn’t always be around to do it for her.

“Sure thing.”

“Where am I?” You had to ask again. Ellie never gave you an answer when you asked the day prior. This was all so incredible to you. The bathroom lights worked. There was hot water coming out of the sink. The house smelled good and was well maintained. People lived here.

She stood up watching you admire the space before you. She knew how amazing it was. Especially when you hadn’t seen anything like it in years. Sure, the QZ had power, but it was spotty at best. It certainly didn’t have heat or air-conditioning. That was a luxury few had.

“Jackson, Wyoming.” She answered your question, “A small commune. We’ve been here for almost ten years now.

“Wow.” You walked out of the bathroom after Ellie moved looking around you. Ellie forgot how incredible it all really was. It was easy to get complacent, “This is amazing. I’ve never run into a place like this.”

She smiled, “Few and far in between. We stay quiet. For good reason.”

You nodded, “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I’ll get out of your hair soon. Thank you for everything.”

She gave you a quizzical look, “Where are you going?” Ellie watched in almost amusement. Where did you think you were going?

You shrugged, “Not sure, I guess.” You didn’t have a plan, but it wasn’t staying here. You didn’t think you were wanted.

Maria laughed. Straight belly laughed in your face. Ellie joined in when she didn’t stop. You smiled feeling the contagion hit. You couldn’t even help the small laughs that left your lips. What another foreign fucking feeling. You hadn’t laughed in literal years. Joey wasn’t one for the giggles and Sasha always respected that. That was a piece of you that you thought died with your brother.

“You’re tough. That’s for sure. But you wouldn’t make it far. You’ll stay.” She said so matter of factly you weren’t even sure if you were going to question her. Like it was so unquestionable.

“Really?” You weren’t sure why you kept pressing your luck, but you did.

She nodded, “You’re young, able bodied and will be completely healed up here soon. We’d love to have you here.”

You looked out the front door in awe of the rows of homes that lined the street. You assumed you were in some sort of neighborhood. You watched as a pair of children raced down the street on bicycles screaming and laughing as the snow slush spit out behind them. You smiled as a neighbor tried to get their dog to come inside but clearly wasn’t having it. Everything looked and felt so oddly normal. Like you were taken and placed back in time from so long ago.

“Half a mile north is the town square. Joel and Ellie live a few houses down that way. We’ll put you up in a home across the street from them. Tommy and Joel just finished it up.” She pointed as she spoke.

You kept looking at her like it was all a big dream. Maybe the raiders really did get you. How were you to be the one to get so lucky? It just didn’t seem right.

You nodded afraid your voice would crack.

“Ellie, why don’t you show her the house? There’s a coat by the door for you. Ellie and I picked some clothes out for you while you were asleep and left them in the house.”

“Thank you. For all of this. I can’t even begin to thank you for everything.” Speaking quietly, you found it hard to look them in the eye. This wasn’t common. People being kind for the good of it. Because they didn’t want to kill.

She gave Maria a curt nod before putting her coat and shoes coaxing you along, “Come on Y/N.” You followed her out of Maria’s home after putting on the new boots she had gotten you. Again, you thanked her profusely still not used to the kindness. You were ready to do whatever the town needed now. Need a hunter? You’d learn. Patrol? You had a good shot. Gardner? That’s what you were good at.

You were used to walking quietly. Sasha would often fill the void with her chatter. You and Joey would occasionally chime in. Sometimes Sasha would find a topic that got you interested in for more than five minutes. Those times were rare though. You were merely surviving in this world. You weren’t here to thrive.

Ellie was apparently not used to walking in silence. She started bombarding you with questions the second you left the warmth of Maria’s home. The cold hit you like a ton of bricks. It amazed you how you were able to survive it in the open for as long as you did.

“Where are you from?” She asked once you got your bearings about you.

You smiled remembering that old life. The one that seemed so fucking simple compared to this, “Texas.”

“Just like Joel!”

A small smile crept over your lips. The two of you seemed to have so much in common the more you learned about him, “Oh yeah?”

She nodded smiling, “Yeah!”

“What about you? Where are you from Ellie?”

She shrugged, “Grew up in Boston.”

You had to laugh, “We’re far from home.”

She joined in, “Do we really have a home anymore?”

Looking down at her you didn’t try to hide the frown, “I’m afraid not. Especially now that I have no one. Again.” You felt defeated. Each time you started to build a life it was suddenly ripped right from your grasp. First your brother, then Joey and Sasha.

Her soft smile felt sincere as you nodded contemplating what to tell her. Again, what did you have to lose? Might as well tell her everything. So, everything you did. The two of you walked slow as you told her all about your brother. How he was killed. How you found a new person in Joey. How the rest turned to history.

She was fascinated by your story. She thought that she had been on an adventure but couldn’t fathom what you’d been through by being outside a QZ for nearly ten years. She hadn’t heard about many people like you. Probably because there weren’t many people like you. It was too brutal. Too risky. One slip up and it’s over. Joey and Sasha were proof of that. You should’ve been but you were lucky. So fucking lucky.

You were nothing short of amazed when you walked into the home, and it already seemed cozier than Maria’s. Everything was stocked with anything you could need. The kitchen cabinets were loaded, the clothes were piled high on the bed on the main floor.

You’d invited her to stay to keep talking. For whatever reason Ellie was able to pull it out of you. You wanted to talk to her. Ask her questions. She was so real in this fucked up world. Too often the people you came by tried to sugar coat the situation. She was refreshing. A rarity.

You were sure you would’ve kept going had Joel not walked right through the front door. Only freezing when Ellie let out a, “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

He turned giving her a stunned expression, “Me? What are you doing in here?” He’d known her for years now, but he never tired of her personality. He adored it. Adored the kid growing far too fast for his liking.

Ellie, again, pointed right at you making Joel’s eyes lock with yours. You gave him a soft grin, waving slowly feeling a tad uncomfortable by the attention. Joel relaxed immediately.

“You’re up? Already?” He so desperately wanted to walk forward and give you a once over. The strange desire to protect you hadn’t gone away. But he knew better. You can’t get attached in this world. Never ever. He’d already let Ellie in on his small circle. He couldn’t let it get too big. That’s when bad things started happening.

“I am.” You nodded. A woman of few words. What were you supposed to say? It’s not like he gave

“You look a lot better.” He commented before turning to Ellie again. He’d sit there and stare at you all day if it wasn’t so god damn creepy.

“I feel it too. Thank you.” You kept it short this time. Thanking him not only for the comment but for agreeing to help you in the woods.

He nodded feeling a small heat creep up his neck. He needed to snap the hell out of it and quick. He couldn’t be having physical reactions to such innocent comments. It seemed as if you were trying to kill him already and you didn’t even fucking know it. He was a goner, and he knew it. His only chance was to avoid you. But he had a feeling that’d be damn near impossible with you living right across the street and Ellies uncanny ability to make friends with almost anybody she wanted… he was toast.

Ellie noticed. Course she noticed. She loved picking on her surrogate father. A dude who’d never claimed to be but always took on the role. People problems? She ran to Joel. Gun issues? She called for Joel’s help. Issues with schoolwork? She used Joels contractor brain to solve her issues. It was her role as his self-proclaimed adopted daughter to make his life a living hell. A fun living hell.

“Y/N! Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?” Ellie grinned giving Joel the side eye, “Joel’s making burgers and they’re so good.”

Joel’s eyes went wide as he glared at the girl. She had a knack for picking up on things far too quickly for his liking.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.” You spoke. It already felt like you were a burden on Joel. Hell, he wouldn’t even turn to look at you.

Joel turned back almost accepting defeat so soon, “It’s fine. It’s no imposition.” Short and to the point.

“Alright. I’ll come over.” You smiled sweetly at Joel hoping he’d know it was a thank you. You didn’t know how rare the smile Joel flashed you was. When he turned back to Ellie he was scowling once again. She hadn’t a clue he’d flashed you one too.

“Six work?” He asked.

You nodded, “Six works.”

“Okay.” He turned to leave before Ellie stood to stop him.

“Weren’t you here for something?”

He pointed at her, “The sink. Need to hook up the washer. Last thing.” He nodded at you as he disappeared off into the kitchen leaving the two of you once again. You continued talking until he left. Ellie got up to follow him over letting you get settled before tonight.

“He likes snickerdoodle cookies by the way.”

You had to laugh shaking your head, “Of course. Every Texan’s favorite cookie.”

She nodded her head excitedly, “So you know how to make them?”

“By heart. I’d never forget.”

She clapped her hands together. You were clueless as hell to her devious plan. Operation get Joel together with Y/N. Joel never showed interest in a single soul. So, the second he did Ellie was going to pounce on it. That was her promise, “Perfect. See you tonight with those snickerdoodles!” She waved before shutting your door. It still amazed you this was now your life. A little safe haven in the middle of no where Wyoming. What could go wrong?

You’d rapid fire knocked on their front door. It was so fucking freezing out here. How you didn’t freeze to death was a mystery.

Ellie flung the door open not too long after, “You look pretty.” She commented after taking your coat from you.

Smiling you nodded, “Showers help quite a bit.”

She shook her head, “No, I think your just a pretty person.

“Ellie!” Joel called through a door, “Would you stop?” That’s when Joels eyes caught yours. He was a bit taken aback. Ellie was right. You weren’t just pretty. You were drop dead fucking gorgeous. Who in the hell were you?

Your soft smile turned to one much larger, “It’s sweet. Thank you Ellie.” Ruffling her hair, you walked over to him. He wanted desperately to back away into the kitchen. You were all consuming. Too much for him to handle. But he also didn’t want to see you frown or get upset by his actions.

Handing him a small plate of cookies you grinned looking up at him, “For you. As a thank you. A little birdie told me you liked snickerdoodle’s.”

He laughed taking them from your grasp as gently as he could, “You didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to. You’ve all been so kind. It’s a small thank you.”

He took them gratefully meeting your eyes again, “Come on in, burgers are almost done. I’m sure Ellie wants to show you around.”

She nodded, “Those cookies… are for me to? As a thank you?”

You laughed a good true laugh. One that was so absent from your life for so long, “Of course Ellie. I’ll even make some more if you ask.”

She immediately went to hug you tightly, “Thank you! Now come on, I wanna show you my room.” She grabbed your hand dragging you along without much reluctance.

Joel watched the innocent interaction with love in his eyes. It was easy for Ellie to make friends, but it wasn’t easy for her to actually like them. Ellie didn’t like many people. Joel most days. Maria sometimes. Tommy almost never. Dina all the time. She seemed to genuinely like you. He hadn’t seen Ellie so eager to help with such a spark in her eye. Like she found a sister. Somebody with a common bond.

Maybe it could work with you. You seemed sweet. He knew you were more than capable. Who in the hell just lives outside the QZ? You were mad and he kind of loved it. He’d known you for what? All of an hour and here he was planning stuff with you in mind? He was mad and he didn’t know if he loved it or not.

Joel was setting out the onion and tomato Ellie pulled from the garden earlier out when the two of you walked into the kitchen.

“So, who was your favorite singer before the outbreak happened?” Ellie asked ignoring Joel’s curious glance up from the kitchen.

You laughed remembering those days spent gossiping in the hallways of your high school. What you’d give to go live a day like that again, “Not a person, a band. NSYNC. God, they were everything to me. Sixteen and had dreams of marrying JC one day.” You hummed remembering the posters that lined your bedroom wall.

Ellie grinned ear to ear hearing that response, “Guess what I have on the CD player?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Shut the hell up. Don’t tell me you have an NSYNC album?” You beamed with excitement. Oh, how long it’d been since you’d heard that band sing. You’d occasionally hear music hear and there. Nothing consistent though.

“I do! After dinner we can listen.” Ellie looked proud of herself Joel noticed. You looked like a little kid in a candy store eating that information up.

“That was Sarah’s favorite band too. That or what’s the other one? The Back Boys?” Joel joined in setting the burgers down at the table. He’d taken a seat next to you and not Ellie at the four-person table.

“The Backstreet Boys.” You laughed appreciating that he somewhat remembered, “I liked them. But preferred NSYNC. Who’s Sarah?” You never knew when things would get awkward, but you felt the air shift in the room.

“My daughter.” Joel answered forgetting you weren’t already part of the family. How quickly you seemed to mold in.

You nodded deciding not to press further, “She has wonderful taste.”

“Had.” He sighed knowing you weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon. What would be the use in hiding it or lying about it? The truth always came out. It could never hide, “She was shot on outbreak day.”

You nodded in understanding. You’d lost as much as he had at the same time, “I’m sorry. It never gets easier does it?”

He shook his head, “Never. Who’d you lose?” He didn’t care for pleasantries and what was proper. He wanted to get to know you the real you. You prepared your burger as you thought of your answer. Taking your time letting Joel know you needed it.

“My mom on outbreak day. My dad a few days later. Shot by FEDRA. My brother ten years after that. Killed in a Firefly incident.” You leaned back in your chair observing his reaction while he studied yours.

He nodded silently while fixing his plate.

“Was life fun?” Ellie asked, “Before?”

You laughed taking a long swig of the iced tea Joel had poured for you, “My life was. It was amazing. It wasn’t perfect but it was everything.”

Joel nodded in agreement, “It surely wasn’t perfect. There was stress. But it was different.”

You smiled, “I prefer that stress. Can I afford my gas this week? Rather than am I dying today?”

It got a chuckle out of both of them as Joel nodded agreeing with you, “Much preferred to this.”

Before anybody could respond the landline rang. It was a sound so unfamiliar it had you jumping out of your seat, “Is that a telephone?”

Joel nodding with a slick smirk on his face, “They have everything here.”

Ellie shot up from her seat, “That might be Dina! I told her to call after her patrol. Do you mind?” She gave Joel the cheesiest grin. He simply waved her off which was his signal to let her know it was fine, she could go.

You watched him watch her. It was clear he loved her dearly. Maybe even as much as a daughter. You hadn’t met many men like him, but you knew he was special. Just like Ellie was. You’d needed this so bad. So, fucking desperately. Just when you didn’t think you could go on it’s like the universe gave you a new purpose. One to simply exist and learn now. Grow and feel safe again. Like the challenge had been conquered and you were being given your reward. You just needed to take it. He was sitting right there watching you now, lost in thought.

He didn’t turn once you caught him staring. He just smiled and continued watching. You decided to ignore him and start eating. Too enticed by the smell rather than wait on Ellie.

He grinned joining you, “You’re very interesting, Y/N.” He simply stated after taking a large bite from his burger.

“Hopefully a good interesting and not a bad one.” Your heart sped up as he acknowledged you.

“Definitely the good one.” He tipped his head as if there was a hat on his head, “We don’t get too many new commers around here. When we do they’re usually stuffy. It’s nice to have ya. A nice change.” That’d definitely been the most he had spoken to you since you got here, and it was incredibly kind. He was trying and that was simply more than you could ask for. Just as Ellie had sensed it you had too. You’d seen his apprehension die down as he got to know you just a bit more. He was beginning to feel calm in your presence. Bringing out the good in him.

“Thank you Joel.” You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. You didn’t bother putting makeup on. Honestly, you’d forgotten how to do it. And why would you have needed it? You had forgotten how blissfully your cheeks exposed you at the drop of a hat.

“Anytime darlin’, anytime.” He didn’t know where in the hell this was going to end up, but he was starting to get more than excited for the ride he was about to take. The gleam in your eye told him he needed to buckle up or you’d buck him right on off.

Taglist: @loving-and-dreaming

[shade-pup-cub]

Febuwhump 2024, Day 14: Mask(FD) & Link - Blood-Stained Tiles

Fandom: LOZ/Linked Universe

Summary: Mask seems to be the only one that can see what is going on with his big brother and he refuses to stand to the side when he could try to change it. Unlike his own Zelda, this era's doesn't show the same care. Their hero is only a tool.

CW: blood, injury, mild language

Link’s limp wasn’t hard to miss if you looked. His slight hitch in breath when he gave a slight laugh, drew in breath or spoke too much could be seen, if someone would look for it. His posture was guarded, arms stiff and hardly moved away from his sides. His smile was fake, pained and his eyes wanted to shut from the lack of sleep. All of this could be seen if someone just looked.

Mask watched from afar after the battle was over and had slipped the Fierce Deity mask back onto his belt. He saw Link get hit a few too many times and knew he would be kicking for not doing better.

A meeting had been called for in the castle to discuss the next move against Cia and Ganondorf the second the battle ended and Link was off the field. Mask cursed aloud when he lost sight of Link, crowds of people pushing and shoving. Being hip height had its disadvantages, but Mask was not above hitting kneecaps to get through.

It was the rare occasion that the eleven year old hero wished he had his sixteen year old body back. He could easily get through if he was taller, but he wasn’t. He scaled the nearest wall somehow undetected. He balanced his way across beams, careful not to fall into the swarm of bodies below. Living as a Kokiri was like living in one big playground, making this easy.

It still took much longer than he wanted it to to get across the castle, run down the halls to where Link’s personal chambers were. Mask jiggled the locked handle to the door. Link never locked it…

“Link! Open this fucking door!”

There was no answer outside of the shuffling of feet, something being tossed around and something breaking.

“Don’t make me blow this door off its hinges!”

When Link still did nothing outside of continuing on, Mask grew more worried. Link knew that Mask wouldn’t give idle threats, especially ones that included blowing things up.

“Cap, you’re worrying me… Please open the door.”

A few moments later, the door creaked open. “Worried? Now that’s a word I haven’t heard come from you before.”

Mask looked up at him, eyeing him curiously and cautiously. Something wasn’t right. Link had less dust and dirt on his tunic, meaning he had taken it off. He wouldn’t do that for any other meeting, especially with how urgent the Queen made it sound.

“Did you take a potion?” Mask went right to the point.

“No, I didn’t need one.”

“Did you wrap your wounds?”

Link furrowed his brow, “I didn’t have any.”

“Bullshit, I saw you take some hits today. There is no way you went unharmed.” Mask went to push on the Captain’s ribs, but his wrist was caught by Link. “If you don’t have any, why stop me from checking?”

To Mask’s surprise, Link’s expression cracked for a split second before he straightened up. “Because I do not have time right now. There is a meeting being held to strategize our next move. Even if I were injured, our supplies took a great hit today. We are short of most things. Small cuts are not worth my time worrying.” He let go of the younger’s wrist. “Stay here if you want, but I have somewhere to be.”

Mask flinched slightly back at his big brother’s became uncharacteristically angry with him.

Link deflated. “I’m sorry. I have no right to take my frustration out on you.” He took off his scarf, wrapping it around Mask snuggly. “Get some rest.”

Watching Link walk away hurt, but Mask had a job to do. He needed to figure out a way to get the good Captain to rest some. It had been three days since he slept anything more than two hours, a week since he slept five hours at one time.

He sighed with a groan as he walked into the somewhat large room. He went and sat on the bed, kicking his feet while his brain raced. He couldn’t think of a way to help his big brother and even if he did, no one would take him seriously due to his age. Well… he was just going to have to make them listen.

Looking around the room again, something caught his eye. Something white and red. ‘That bastard.’ He knew what it was before he reached it. It was old bandages that someone had tried to hide. That meant that Link had been hurt some time before and hid it from everyone.

Mask pushed open the bathroom door, wanting to take all the bandages out of there and hide them so Link would be forced to seek out proper help. What he wasn’t prepared to see was blood smeared across the marbled tiled floor. Several towels had been used hopelessly to clean up the mess and there were still small pools of blood that hadn’t been touched.

Mask’s breathing picked up as he took a few steps back. Horror gripped him like an icy hand around his middle. That was too much blood. How much was Link hiding? How much worse was he than Mask had originally assumed?

His anger roared back like a grease poured on an open flame. He folded Link’s scarf in a hurry, tossing it on the bed. He was on a warpath to where this so-called meeting was being held. He ran through people, not caring who it was. Many times he collided with the wrong people, all agitated warriors or nobles. A few pushed him away hard enough that he landed on the ground and nearly trampled. The others only spoke harshly towards him.

None of this stopped him from reaching the guarded doors that held the highest ranking officials in this Hyrule. He thought about blowing the door off the hinges, but that would cause too much destruction and bring too much attention from outside people. Direct approach it was…

Mask kicked and screamed as the guards tried to pick him up and throw him out of the castle for intruding. ‘This shit again, really?’ He managed to get a few good kicks to the door, calling for Link. With no one responding from behind the doors, Mask bit one of the guards and pulled the Fierce Deity mask from his belt threatening to put it on, backing up slowly, then literally kicked the door open.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?!” one of the nobles asked as everyone jumped to their feet.

Mask eyed Link as he tried to stand up fully without wincing. Link tried to keep eye contact, but sat down first with a hand holding his ribs.

Two more men went to snatch Mask, but he raced over to the way too oversized round table and climbed onto it. The Queen waved her hand for them to stop.

“Mask, what brings you here?” Zelda asked, calmly.

“Him!” Mask pointed at Link as he tried to catch his breath.

Link huffed, “Mask, go back to the room and get some rest, please. There is no concern here for you to be worrying over.”

“You don’t get to speak, Cap! Not after what I saw!”

Losing patience, Zelda also sat back down, prompting the others to do the same. “If something was wrong with our Captain, he would say something.”

“Are you blind? Are all of you blind to what is in front of you? He is injured, still injured from the battle before today, hasn’t slept in gods know how long, eating is a rare thing and he is refusing any medical treatment because he thinks it would be wasted on him when he should be the first person to receive it!”

“We are at war, child. There has to be sacrifices even if it comes to oneself.” A random nobleman said.

Swiftly turning, Mask gritted his teeth as he spat out. “No one was talking to you.” Looking at the Queen again, he asked, “How well do you sleep in your ivory tower, knowing that this war is all on Link? He has saved you, Impa, Lana, everyone in this room, this whole kingdom, but who is saving him as he drowns in his own thoughts of doubt and self worth? Who does he get to lean on when it becomes too much to carry alone on his shoulders? He isn’t some plaything from the goddess, he is a real person who deserves better than this. Heroes deserve better than this!”

The same nobleman decided to speak up again. “What would you know of a Hero’s job? You call yourself a hero, but how could an eleven year old understand the complexity of war and what Link is to uphold his part as the hero?”

Rage boiled in Mask’s veins, slowly turning back to the old man. “I took up the role of the hero at age nine, where I was sent to the future by sleeping until I was sixteen. I fought Ganondorf and his bloodthirsty monsters and I defeated him. When I was sent back to my original time as a nine year old, I did it all over again. I earned the title Hero of Time, though it came with many steep costs. I went to an unknown land called Termina, ridding it of one of the most powerful demons ever known to the world, Majora. I did both adventures alone outside of my fairy and the few that I could trust to point me in the right direction, but I walked alone.

“The work of a hero is damning and lonely, even if we aren’t alone. No one truly understands what we need or what we go through. I refuse to let another hero go through the hell I went through for the sake of his country. I don’t care if I have to do it from my grave, heroes from now on will never have to walk alone.”

The silence was interrupted by a puzzled Queen. “This still has nothing to do with you. Leave, Mask, we have work to do and every second that you waste by badgering us with things that are irrelevant, Ganondorf gets stronger. If Link has a problem or an issue, he knows how to deal with it. He is an adult, capable of taking care of himself.”

“Clearly not by the state of his bathroom! The tiled floor is stained in blood, fresh blood has pooled on top of it from where he tried to take care of himself and I’m surprised he’s even standing by how much was there! Do you not care for your Hero?”

“He is not my responsibility!” The Queen stood, matching Mask’s height where he stood.

“Mask, that is enough. This only makes matters worse. It doesn’t matter what happens as long as we win the war.” Link rubbed his face, elbows on the edge of the table. The lack of self preservation was overwhelming. Mask knew what it was like, but his big brother was being thrown to the wolves with no hope.

“See, boy, if our good Captain Link says he is fine, then why should we be listening to you? Now, run along and let the adults handle things.”

If Mask could have gotten away with it, he would have skewered that old bastard. Instead, he took the Fierce Deity mask, sighing, “Since you won’t listen to me, maybe you will listen to him.” He pressed the mask to his face with a scream. The scream wasn’t because of the pain like others thought, but because of the amount of emotion trapped inside with no way to release it except when Mask used them. Fierce Deity's hurt the worst.

“Mask no!!” Link hollered and scrambled to get to the youngest in the room.

The wooden table groaned under the weight of the god that now stood where the young Link was. The Deity knew why he had been called on, afterall he could go through the mask’s wielder's thoughts. His glowing eyes took in the room, landing on Link who was now doubled over and clutching his side, blood coming through the green tunic.

The Deity growled in disgust, “It takes a child to make you see what you already know, yet you call yourselves the responsible adults. I would have never treated my own men with such disregard.”

Much like Mask, his eyes locked on Zelda’s, lips pulled back to show all his teeth. “You, Queen Zelda, I would expect so much more from my sister’s blood than what you have become. You disgrace the goddess’s bloodline and all she believed in.”

Link took in a wheezing breath. “D-Deity…” He collapsed to the ground, head nearly slamming into the stone floor if it weren’t for the Deity’s quickness.

Large gloved fingers inspected the head in his hands, feeling for damage. He sighed when he felt the bump below the crown of the young man’s head. If he remembered correctly, Link got his with a shield there. Placing the man’s head on the ground softly, the Deity pulled the tunics and chainmail up, showing bandages soaked and hardly wrapped around him properly.

Almost like she cared, Zelda was at their side. “I had no idea… truly. We need to get him to the infirmary right away.”

“You will do nothing. You do not get the right to suddenly step up for him and care about his well being. I will take him to his quarters and watch over him. He needs rest, not people hovering over him. Besides, friends and foe are wearing the same colors nowadays.”

With Link in his arms, he made his way to the door, but stopped short to say one last thing. “If his body gives way and we lose him, my host will not fight in this war, I will make sure of it. You will do this on your own and you will lose.”

[frozenjokes]

Something A Touch Ominous

[2/6] Prev / Next / Ao3 Link

“I’m home,” Impulse closed the door behind himself as he walked inside, letting the many bags he carried slide off his shoulders and clatter softly against the hard floor. Well, every bag except one. Its contents were fragile, yes, but the care he took had far more to do with its value. Impulse’s stomach twisted, a mix of nerves and guilt. He shouldn’t have this.

“Heya Dippledop,” Skizz waved from the couch. Impulse was excited to see a bright alertness in his eyes even despite the fact that he still sounded horrible. “I’m starting to miss you man, coming home late all the time like this,” Skizz swooned, and Impulse laughed, struggling to even roll his eyes.

“Is forty-five minutes after closing late now? What, you counting the minutes?”

“Well with Scar helping you out, I’d expect faster transition time,” Skizz teased Scar’s name, earning a real eye roll this time.

“That was one time, and honestly, he was more of a hindrance than anything. The only reason I got home faster was because I was scrambling to keep him from breaking our wares. That guy is a complete disaster.”

“Did you see him today?”

Impulse hesitated for a moment, holding his package close, “No, I didn’t.” Skizz cocked his head in a light skepticism that Impulse tried to ignore. He wasn’t lying, not really. He really hadn’t seen Scar today.

Skizz was never the type of person to entertain an awkward silence. “I swear, if you two go off and elope, I’m gonna be pissed. I could care less if he’s twenty years younger than you, I better be invited to the damn wed-” Skizz yelped as Impulse grabbed his face, pushing him back into the couch before plopping down beside him.

“Running away with someone after knowing them for two weeks? Sounds more like something you would do. Actually, ‘sounds’ implies that you haven’t done it before.”

“Hey!” Skizz pushed back, “That was one time and it was true love! Sometimes you just know, yeah?” Impulse was too relieved at how lively Skizz was acting to bite back. After a rough couple of days, seeing Skizz so animated was a blessing. Skizz’s eyes followed the bag as Impulse set it on their small coffee table, but didn’t speak as Impulse brought his hand to Skizz’s forehead. Impulse was grateful he didn’t ask, though he clearly wanted to. Impulse wasn’t ready yet.

“Fever’s gone down, but I think you’ve still got one.”

“Oh really? Compared to yesterday, it’s like I’m a new man! I’m hoping to come in with you tomorrow if this keeps up, I’m itching to get out.”

Impulse managed to squash down his first instinct to respond with a resounding No, but just barely, which left him sputtering for words, “I- I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he managed to wheeze, “You should recover fully before-“

“Before meeting Scar?”

“No.”

“Yes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Are you sure?”

Impulse let out a miserable sigh before conceding, head in hands, “Listen, it’s not that I don’t want the two of you meeting, only that I.. I want to know what Scar wants first. Right now, I have no idea! I don’t know if he’s just being nice, or if he’s just naive, or if he’s dangerous or-“

“Or courting you?”

“He is not courting me. He has absolutely no reason to be courting me.”

“What’s with the gift then?” Skizz pointed to the bag on the coffee table, and Impulse cringed away.

“I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t- I didn’t give him any indication we needed it- or anything! Actually, I don’t even know if it was Scar, to be honest, he didn’t give it to me himself, he just-“ Impulse rambled, only cutting himself off with a yelp as Skizz lunged forward, snatching the package before Impulse could grab it away.

“Enough, enough, if there’s a ring in here I’m gonna..” Skizz trailed off as he ripped through the paper padding, his face falling, “Dude.”

“I know.”

“You need to give this back. How does he even- you didn’t tell him I was sick, did you?”

“I’m not giving it back. No way. And no, I told you, I didn’t tell him anything. He doesn’t even know you exist! When he’s around he spends the entire day talking about himself anyway, he never even asked about my home life. He probably just assumed I have kids like you’re always saying.” Impulse snatched the bag back, readjusting the brown paper around the bottle of medicine. For fever, for pain relief- anything. It was expensive too; there was no price tag, but Impulse had never seen bottles like this in this town’s markets.

“Dude, he’s courting you!” Skizz’s exclamation cut through Impulse’s thoughts. “ Oh I’m coming in tomorrow, I’m gonna give him a real piece of my mind!”

Impulse put his head back in his hands. “Please don’t.”

“I’ll say ‘Scar! Welcome to the family, buddy. You are IN. Congratulations, we have been bought, but I’m a package deal, hear me?’”

“He is not courting me, he is just weird. That, or he wants to rob us of everything we own. I still haven’t figured it out,” Impulse sat up, rubbing his temples. He sideyed the medicine on the coffee table, but quickly looked away. Skizz caught his eye and lowered his tone, something more serious.

“To be honest, I don’t really see why this should mean I can’t meet him. I get it, I know something’s up. Weird guy, bad vibes.”

“Not bad necessarily-“

“Sure, right, but you’re also acting odd. Listen, I’m sure this dude is a total clown, but I’d like to see it for myself so I know what we’re getting into. We, Impulse. You don’t have to deal with this by yourself.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? Talk to me, please.”

Impulse paused for a long time, struggling to figure that out for himself. Skizz was sickeningly patient, just like he always was.

“I don’t want him to know he was right.”

“What?”

“I don’t want Scar to know he was right. About you. About someone being sick. This whole gift thing has been freaking me out, man, I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

“Well,” Skizz paused, eyes narrowed in thought, “I don’t know if that,” he gestured, “was really Scar ‘knowing’ anything. To me it comes off as more of a display of wealth than anything. Listen, I’m just as cautious as you are about this whole fiasco, I just don’t know if this particular instance goes that deep.”

Impulse didn’t respond. He wasn’t quite sure what to say; it’s not like he had any proof. He just knew that Scar knew something . Something he shouldn’t. Impulse closed his eyes. Maybe he had mentioned Skizz before. Maybe he’d even alluded to his illness. Their shop was called ‘Imp and Skizz’ after all, it couldn’t have been too much of a jump to guess .

“Hey,” Skizz broke through, putting a calloused hand on Impulse’s forearm, “How’s this? You go in tomorrow, by yourself. I’ll stay home, work the forge a bit, rest, and the next day when I’m sounding better, we go in together. How’s that?” When Impulse was quiet, Skizz continued, “Y’can’t keep me cooped up here forever. If I don’t get to talk to some new people I might just keel over. I’m dying’ here.”

Impulse lightly shook his head, “No, I don’t want to do that. That’s good. That sounds good Skizz, thank you.”

“You bet! And if you need me to, I’ll tell Scar straight he needs to back off. We’ll be just fine without some hustler hanging around making my buddies uncomfortable, yeah?”

“It’s fine, Skizz, really. If he goes too far, I’ll make sure he knows it. I will. I like Scar, I do, he’s just a bit odd sometimes. If he’s around tomorrow, I’ll talk to him.”

“I’m serious! I’ll kick his ass!”

“Please do not do that.”

“I’ll fold him!”

“I believe you! Dude, I don’t think Scar could fend anyone off to save his life! He’s got a bit of muscle, yeah, but I don’t think he’s ever been in a real fight his whole life, much less with a sword. He really is all talk, I know that much,” Impulse laughed, and Skizz joined in, continuing his stream of vague threats until they were so absurd, both men were left wheezing.

Sitting here, unable to catch his breath with Skizz; there was no other way Impulse would rather spend the rest of his life. He didn’t know what Scar wanted or what he was planning, but for now, it didn’t seem to matter too much. For now, everything was alright.

[daffi-990]

Hi Daffi!!!

Tell me about your Fantasy AU!!!

Ahhh Fantasy AU .. my beloved .. that I really need to spend more time on 🥲

The summary for it is:

23 yr old Buck lives with his adoptive father, Bobby, in Los Angeles. One day his life is turned upside down when he’s attacked in the street by what he can only describe as a monster. He’s saved by an attractive stranger named Eddie, who apparently knows Bobby and claims they’re in danger.

He also claims Buck is a powerful mage from another world, and is prophesied to save it from an evil that has plagued it for the last 30 years.

I’ve written small bits and pieces of it, most of it spoilery haha

BUT!!

Your ask actually encouraged me to write the beginning of it! So here is something I whipped up this afternoon in the notes app of my phone ☺️

Buck has lived in LA his whole life and still isn’t used to how suffocating the city can feel. Most of the time he’s okay, happy to explore the city and partake of its nightlife now that he’s old enough to do so, but sometimes the city feels like a cage that he’s trapped in, far away from home. Which is ridiculous because LA is home. Except lately it doesn’t feel like it. The only place Buck is able to find some semblance of peace is out on the trails. When he’s out here away from the hustle and bustle of city life, he feels like he can breathe. The kind of breath that’s deep and expands your lungs to their full capacity. He feels alive out here among the tress, the soft sounds of nature a gentle melody that has the restlessness in his bones quieting down to a dull thrum. It’s why he tries to get out here as often as he can.

Bobby likes to come out here too, in fact the two of them used to come out here together every weekend and camp. They’d eat s’mores and gaze at the stars and spar with the swords Bobby owns. Buck still has no idea where he got them, but they’re the real deal. It took Buck a while to build up the strength to wield one, but once he did he adapted to its weight pretty quickly, favouring the heavy weapon over his foil and sabre.

Bobby had gotten him into fencing at a young age and Buck had instantly loved it. It was a positive outlet for him to work off his excess energy, plus it made him feel like Aragorn from Lord of the Rings. Along with fencing, Buck also learnt hand to hand combat through a mixed variety of martial arts, boxing and MMA being his favourite.

Bobby liked to test his skills on their camping trips, and despite being much older than Buck, the man could hold his own. It’s only been the last few years that Buck’s been able to beat him, and that’s probably because of the extra MMA lessons he’s been able to get with his staff discount at the gym.

Buck misses those weekends. They haven’t had one in a couple months now due to Buck’s new job. He has this weekend off though so maybe they can come out here again.

Buck checks his watch for the time. It’s almost 4pm which means he needs to start heading home to get ready for his shift at 6pm. He likes working the night shift at the gym, it’s usually pretty quiet with only the regulars coming in so Buck has a lot of free time to workout himself or just relax after he’s done all his usual jobs. Most of the time he just chills out behind the front desk and watches YouTube videos which almost always results in a YouTube spiral that sees him five videos deep into the subject of how to make your own cheese or something.

Thank you for the ask and the unintentional inspiration haha 😘

wip tag game list

[pimento-playing-hopscotch]

TK Strand's growing up years- but what if he wasn't an only child? Here's the fic...

So I told myself I was going to write a fic covering TK's life from when he's a kid to the now, with the au addition of if his parents had another kid before they split- it starts when his sister is born when TK is five years old and in the most recently posted chapter, TK is fifteen and his sister is ten- also I fixed the spacing so it's more readable now and thus I want to share it on here (shoutout to the mutual who told me about this; I genuinely didn't know it was a thing)

This first excerpt is from one of the more fluffy chapters; I also included one of the more angsty chapters (also might coming up; an excerpt from one of the injury chapters; if there is one thing I believe, its that any and all Strand children are danger magnets and agents of chaos-

Fluffy chapter-

From 2001 (January)

“Now that I’m worried about”. Owen muttered as TK joined them.

“What?” Gwyn asked. “TK, eat your cereal”.

“TK on ice skates”. Owen said quietly. “I’ve seen him slip on wet grass and narrowly avoid cracking his head open. I’m worried about the odds when the ground is literally made of ice”. He glanced at his son, but TK wasn’t paying attention to his parents. TK was taking the fruit Gwyn had put in front of him and was trying to move it in front of Sophie as quietly as possible.

“He’s been in the PeeWee hockey league for almost two months”. Gwyn replied. “You just haven’t gotten to see him skate yet. He’s pretty good. TK, I put that grapefruit down in front of you, not your sister. Please eat it”.

“Do I have to?” TK whined. “It tastes so bad”.

“It’s good for you, TK”. Owen told him. “I’ve finished mine already”.

“You can have mine, Dad”. TK suggested eagerly.

“TK, you have to have more than that”. Gwyn said firmly. “You don’t have to finish all of what I put in front of you, but I need to see some of it gone, or you can forget about going anywhere today”. TK stomped and grumbled to himself, but he started slowly eating the grapefruit.

“Would this have anything to do with that fact that you can’t skate?” Gwyn asked Owen quietly.

“Oh, I am hurt”. Owen said, clutching his hand to his chest dramatically. Across the table, Sophie giggled. “I can too skate”. Owen said.

This, TK had heard. “Dad you can skate with me today!” he said excitedly, swinging his feet. “You haven’t seen me skate yet”.

“I know bud,” Owen said. “I can’t wait to see you skate”.

“Can Sophie try to skate?” TK asked as he moved his fork around his plate. “She can walk better now”. He turned to his sister. “Sophie, are you going to skate today?”

“Teek,” Sophie said, reaching for TK’s cup. They hadn’t gotten her to say “TK” yet, she either called him “Tee” or “Teek” which sounded more like a squeak.

“She’s still too little, sweets,” Gwyn said. “They wouldn’t have ice skates that would fit her feet”.

TK nodded. “Mom, can I go turn the TV back on?” He held up his plate. Almost half of the grapefruit was gone.

“Okay”. Gwyn said as she took his plate. “But only for a half hour, TK”.

And now for the angsty chapter-

2002 - January

“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me about this”. Owen sighed.

“Do you want the list of things I don’t understand?” Gwyn replied. “For instance — I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of this. So your son saw a therapist. Off all people, I would think—”

“For the thousandth time”. Owen pinched the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t that he saw a therapist. It’s that you didn’t tell me that he was seeing a therapist. In all the time it took to decide he should, and then to find one—”

“Keep your voice down, Owen”. Gwyn hissed. “I know this isn’t a place you’ve been frequently, but your children live here”.

“Goddamn it Gwyn”. Owen was trying to stay calm. Key word being trying. He breathed through his mouth slowly. “You didn’t answer my question”. He said as evenly as he could manage. “Why wouldn’t you tell me about this?”

“Which part?” Gwyn asked. “I’m being serious. Which part didn’t I tell you about? About our son having nightmares — cause I know I told you about that. The three times I told you that the school psychologist wanted to meet with us; as in both of us, because we’re both his parents? Or when I showed you the drawing that TK did with the title, “What My Daddy Sees When He Closes His Eyes?” Because I did show that to you after I went to the meeting. By myself”. She turned on her heel and walked into the bathroom connected to their bedroom. Owen followed her and leaned on the doorframe.

“You know where I was,” he said. “I wanted to be there. I don’t think that’s very fair”.

“Owen Strand, do NOT talk to me about what is and isn’t fair”. Gwyn said sharply. “That is something you don’t get to do”. She punctuated this by angrily shoving the drawer on the bathroom counter closed.

(Also I promise the story doesn't entirely take place in January; it just worked out these were the two that I picked).

This fic is ongoing- read more here-

[0verc00ked-simp]

So I just finished the third season for the first time last night (I know, I know, I have no excuse for holding off this long) and I have. Some thoughts. Spoilers, obviously.

First of all, it really wasn’t as bad as I was expecting from the way people talk about it, but I have my issues I wanna talk about.

Allison. They took all the parts of Victor I hated in season one and shoved them onto her in this season. Now don’t get me wrong, at first I was excited to see her get her much-deserved snap after all the trauma she’s endured but… They did it so wrong. I see no point mentioning the Luther scene as I’m sure we all share the same opinion on how that was a terrible mishandling of her but the thing that gets me is the fact that she made a deal with Reggie, and when that deal led to the death of Luther and Klaus, she still didn’t back out until she herself was injured. What??? Like, no, as soon as Luther died, that should have been the point that the Allison I know would have been like “ok, nvm, losing more people isn’t worth this”. But whatever,,,

Also, the romance with Luther and Sloane was so rushed and forced, Don’t get me wrong, I honestly thought they were cute together and Luther deserves to move on from the incest… even though this isn’t much better… but jesus. Also, did it have to be another alternate sibling of his? Really??? They couldn’t have given him a love interest that didn’t share a father with him? Its better than Allison who he literally grew up with and refers to as his sister, but this woman is also basically his sister. And they got married after like five-ish days of knowing each other, chill.

I haven’t decided how I feel about Lila and Diego’s kid yet. I don’t like pregnancy arcs but I wouldn’t mind seeing those two happy and settled for once in their damn lives. I dunno. I am neutral so far.

Five was deffo chiller in this season, people are right about that one. He had his moments of course, but I was sort of surprised by how much of a back burner they put him on this season. He’s typically they’re main blorbo. I didn’t really have any issues with him or anything, just wished he had more to do.

Well…

There is one issue.

The last episode ended with them all losing their powers, which included Luther no longer being part ape. This is fine and I think it will lead to some interesting plot next season, but why is Five still a child? I think they could justify it in some senses, but if you ask me, he should have either reverted back to being in his fifties, or he should have finally been in his thirties with the rest of his siblings. I’m sure they just didn’t want anyone but Aidan to play him (rightfully so) but Aidan is 20 now, they could have pulled something off. It’s not like they’re trying to make an actual 13 year old appear to be in his 30 or something.

If they’re keeping him as a kid, though, I want to see that have an effect. I want to see him regress and slowly start becoming more and more of an actual teenager. (In all honesty, could just be me, but it kinda feels like that’s been happening a little bit anyhow.) Also I saw another post talking about him being in school dealing with people who are actually teenagers and I really think that would be so funny, please make the state force him to attend public high school.

This has been my random thoughts after finishing the season, if you disagree with me, that’s totally fine, they’re more just the thoughts I had late at night after being sick kept me up. Looking forward to the new season. It got confirmed to come out next year, although we still have no idea when.

Hang in there people, it will be here soon.

[camgirlsurvivalguide]

Too Little, and perhaps Too Late: The short-comings of MFC as a platform

I know how sick and fucking tired I am of hearing this exact phrase but I will reiterate because it’s important: we’re living through rough times. The pandemic coincided with a massive shift for digital SW, from a realm that was largely live stream (which in a lot of ways was very much booming then) to a content creation platform that by and large took the entire world - SW and vanilla - by storm.

MFC is not a household name. It never has been. The average person doesn’t know what MFC is, and even the average porn consumer likely just thinks of it as one of the sites that pop up as an ad here and there while browsing other sites. Even in the “hayday” (which I’d argue was probably between 2014 and 2018), the pool of people in the know was small, especially in comparison to how prolific OnlyFans has become in broader (vanilla) society.

When established camgirls moved to OnlyFans in the wake of declining traffic and declining mental capacity for live streaming, especially those of us who were five or more years into constantly grinding, we created the foundation for the platform that quickly attracted non-SW to the site as soon as the pandemic occurred. The timing was the perfect storm. With an interface identical to Instagram, it was familiar even to the most vanilla or casual of audiences. With the concurrent rise of subscription-based payment modalities, people felt as comfortable clicking “subscribe” to a $5 a month page as they did with signing up for Netflix.

MFC has not had the same luck. Yes, strategic interface choices and payment structures were conscious decisions on OnlyFans’ part, but I cannot stress enough how heavily luck played into the explosion of OnlyFans as a platform. As much as what I’m about to say (eventually, after I’m finished my characteristic long winded ramble*) may be counter to this point, OnlyFans also inevitably did draw a significant portion of MFC users away from the platform and toward OnlyFans instead. Cheaper (sometimes), faster, easier to use, more transparent. The “tokens” thing was and still is an interesting concept** (again, I’ll get into this in a second), but seeing an obvious dollar amount to subscribe with and clearly defined dollar amounts to spend on individual creators pages themselves cleared any ambiguity about spending for the consumer. For better or for worse, OnlyFans is a SW-consumer platform for consumer dummies. It simplified everything a casual user was looking for out of a digital SWer, and then grew from there.

This is not to say live streaming is dead. Live streaming is bigger than it EVER has been before - but this also means MFC has even more competition now than it ever had in the past. We were the first live streamers the internet had, and for a while, the only live streamers the internet had. We were here before Instagram live, YouTube live, TikTok live, hell we were here when Twitch was justin.tv and even then, the average person had no idea justin.tv even existed.  reference notes for internet history nerds: MFC was founded in 2004, justin.tv (which later became Twitch) was founded in 2007. By 2010, MFC was considered the largest adult live streaming platform on the internet (which also means on the internet itself, since ... others didn’t ... exist yet). Justin.tv was initially a free for all live streaming platform, but after developing a successful gaming section, it moved its gaming component to a site called Twitch in June of 2011 - later dissolving justin.tv and solely becoming Twitch in 2014, which was then quickly acquired by Amazon that same year. Tl;dr - MFC was first, and it was king. 

*re: users migrating to OnlyFans: many of my biggest contributors on MFC did not move to OnlyFans strictly because their interest is live streaming, not content creation. Over the past year that I’ve been on Twitch, I’ve seen the return of many old names that remember me from MFC but simply haven’t seen me since, because they don’t like OnlyFans. Live stream consumers are still live stream consumers - it’s not as cut and dry as “OF stole all our people!”.

**re: tokens instead of dollar amount: Twitch uses this in the form of bits. It is still a strategy that works on other live streaming platforms - so I’m not necessarily saying that MFC using the token modality is a poor choice, but I am stressing that during a time where people are keeping their wallets closer to their chests, precise understanding of how much something costs may be more important to users now than it was before.

Alright kids, history lesson concluded. Now you know. Back to the topic at hand.

MFC consumers are unique - but in their uniqueness, I personally feel that the user base that was once largely exclusive to MFC now have options to have both of their primary needs met on other competing sites. Consumers on MFC are looking for two things: personal connection and sexual gratification. For some, having both needs met simultaneously is necessary - but for many others, dividing and conquering is likely a cheaper and higher quality strategy. A user who wants to get off will go to places that are cheaper or have more immediate access (aka OnlyFans), and that same user who wants to feel a sense of community or comfort from a live streamer can go to Twitch to have those needs met over there. 

Even for the most dedicated MFC users, the history of site culture, for better or for worse, has likely impacted overall satisfaction for using MFC itself. There is massive pressure on dedicated MFC users - those with recognized usernames, at least - to provide their performer with tokens often on an hourly basis, and sometimes, depending on their reputation, the expectation is to spend a lot an hour. There is little in the way of anonymity for a user. The second they enter a room, their name pops up in the viewer list, and model expectations immediately kick in. Some of us even lurk other models rooms from separate member accounts or as guests to see members we consider “our tippers” (for better or for worse) and feel a massive sense of loss or disappointment if other camgirls are being tipped by “our tippers” more than they tip us. 

In so many ways, expectation is the thief of joy, and this is playing a role on both sides of the MFC experience: for camgirls and their audiences. We need expectations about tipping because for many of us, it’s our sole or primary form of livelihood. When our goals aren’t met, our morale sinks. When our morale is low, we have less in our cup to pour from, impacting not only our own enjoyment of our jobs, but the experience of our viewers as well. Thus, the downward spiral.

Aside from literally forcing ourselves to keep on smiling and shaking ass, much of the issues experienced are in the hands of the MFC platform itself. Since the same team had no problem copying Instagram for their interface, having MFC improve their homepage in a Twitch-esque way even if only slightly could help new users (particularly those familiar with Twitch) feel more familiar on MFC. Main page integration of MFC Share visibility would work wonders for our video stores. The bare minimum would be consulting models themselves about site functionality and interface - an open forum of any sort for MFC developers to receive feedback is a pipe dream of course, but at this point, the state of things does call for drastic measures.

Very little of this is actively helpful for you as an MFC streamer right now, during a time crisis more or less, so I’ll hop off the lecture podium and begin the workshop component. Thank you for your patience. I will never, ever stop being wordy, so if you’ve made it this far, congratulations - you’re just as big of a nerd as I am.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

- Forget everything you knew about what you used to earn on MFC; focus on the future, not the past. Re-frame your tokens per hour goals, or throw them out the window entirely, because they’re not likely to serve you well right now if you’re already struggling. Create a stream schedule and stick to it. Focus on hours streamed, not tokens made. Hope for the best.

- Up your quality as well as your content production. Lean on familiarity marketing, and increase your visibility. Twitch is huge right now and a lot of MFC viewers, particularly die-hards, are splitting their time and money between platforms. Learn how to use OBS, create “stream starting soon” screens, “BRB” screens, “Bath show starting soon” screens - stuff like that. Jack up the quality of what your set-up looks like as much as you can so that you appear attractive physically but also in terms of digital (and professional) set up style.

- Do more. More streams. More videos for MFC Share. More content for OnlyFans, more advertising on Reels, more advertising on Twitter, more hours more content more hours more content more hours more content --

...yeah. I know. That’s where it’s come to, in a lot of ways. It’s either relentless patience (which a lot of us don’t have the financial freedom for), or aggressive and constant ‘more more more’ which most of us just don’t possess the capability for anymore. 

I’d strongly recommend revisiting whether or not you want to continue on MFC, particularly if its your (perhaps failing) primary form of income. Obviously there is and always will be money to be made on MFC. Diehard users will likely stick around until the platform literally falls into ruin, and there is always the potential for new users to fall in love with the experience and become dedicated supporters. 

The question here is ... do you want to ride this out? Are you over it? Are the emotional, financial and time costs outweighing the pay? Do you feel as though you want to continue streaming on the platform while it’s experiencing the issues it’s currently experiencing? What if the issues never get resolved?

We’re in recession, “post”-pandemic, during a time of massive inflation. We, as creators, are under more pressure now than ever to be making the type of income we used to make, while relying on supporters who have less to spend than they used to. I hate to sound doom and gloom here, but this is a very, very challenging time, particularly for MFC camgirls for all of the reasons listed above (and more, I’m sure). 

My only strategic advice is to diversify income and go where the money is most likely to be. Reels for advertisement (and the potential for virality, which isn’t a word but you get what I mean) are a more sure fire way to draw traffic to OnlyFans than using MFC. 

This is a heavy post. I don’t want to deflate anyone, but I’m being realistic when I say the vast majority of us right now are likely struggling. You’re not alone, this isn’t the end and there will be another time in the sun - but now we’ve got to work three times as hard for half the pay, and if that’s what it means to make ends meet, we simply have to rise to the occasion.

[generic-whumperz]

CW: IRL cult experience, MLM (as in “multi-level marketing,” not “men-loving man”), mentions of depression and thoughts of suicide, talk of pursuing legal action

***

Disclaimer- This is all my personal experience, and thoughts and feelings expressed here are only my own and do not reflect the organizations or all persons within the organizations.

***

I know this is a weird place to be sharing what I’m about to, but quite honestly, I don’t know where else to divulge this information other than Reddit.

Here we go-

Several years ago, I accidentally joined a cult within a cult, a subset of Amway at the time called “World Wide Dream Builders.” They have since renamed their organization “World Wide Group” because they began getting negative affiliation with their name as people began exposing them online. (Just Google “World Wide Dream Builders” if you are interested.) But make no mistake, this is the same damn company cult, run by the same people, doing the same shit, and probably using the same or similar tactics.

After moving out of state in 2018 for a myriad of reasons, but a determining number of them being my need for a clean slate, I began to slowly unpack what the fuck I was just a part of and started a long healing journey (from that and much else). A significant component to my understanding of what was really going on and how cults and MLMs operate were the podcasts “Life After MLM,” “Sounds Like A Cult,” “Sounds Like An MLM But Okay,” and “The Dream.” And, of course, Leah Remini’s series “Scientology and the Aftermath” helped me realize just how deep-rooted cults are in American culture at large. If you’ve been in one cult, you’ve kinda been in all of them. (Additionally, r/antiMLM is an excellent source for all things anti-MLM, and this Facebook group is great for ex-members of WWDB/WWG specifically.)

It took me years to make peace with myself over how I could have gotten mixed up with such blatant bullshit and fuckery. I wasn’t in for very long, but those five months where I was dedicated and “all in” (as they say) were a roller coaster, and my mental and physical health was at an all-time low. I was extremely depressed and, at a point, even suicidal, largely due to the “brainwashing” (thought-stopping clichés, love-bombing, and bait-and-switching) and being fed the narrative that “all my problems would go away if I just practiced CORE” (the cult’s acronym for how each good little IBO {another bullshit acronym short for “independent business owner”} should be living day-to-day). I was extremely volatile at the time, and instead of being told that I just needed to “lean into my upline” (my culty superiors), by my upline, they should have urged me to seek professional counseling and help. They were not therapists, psychiatrists, or counselors to any degree, yet they loved to masquerade around as such. 

I could go on and on about all this, but the point of me sharing all this is that back in 2020, I submitted a formal complaint (against either Amway or WWDB, or both; it’s been a while, so I do not remember which) to the FTC. A couple of months ago, I was finally contacted by a senior investigator regarding my submitted complaint. But at the time, I was sick and bedridden with COVID, and I still haven’t responded to them. To be honest, I don’t know what to do or say. Amway is no stranger to class-action lawsuits, and I believe WWDB changed its name because of class-action lawsuits against them.

I still have some of my official paperwork/documents and notes that I took during our “meetings,” but I don’t know if these have any teeth, as so much has changed internally now. My question is if anyone has dealt with the FTC in regards to MLMs and what their experience was. I’m afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing- I don’t know what to say- where to even start. Or is this more so the FTC trying to add me to a class action lawsuit against one or both companies?

I’m hoping to find someone who has gone through this process and can share some words of advice. Or, if you have an Amway/WWDB/WWG/BWW/etc., feel free to reach out to me or reblog this with your experience! My DM’s are always open to those seeking catharsis in this strange and unusual experience and to validate you that yes, that was happening, and yes, that shit was whack!

*A note to my fellow whumpers: I decided to share this here, on my whump blog of all places, because I feel like there is an overlap of connoisseurs of whump and people who have been through some strange experiences. And because this is the first time I’ve felt safe enough in a space to do so. Know that you are not alone! I shared this in hopes of it reaching and helping someone-anyone. Even if one person gets something from this, that’s more than enough for me. Again, my DM’s and asks are open to fellow culties!

P.S. If you are an Amway/WWG/general MLM sympathizer who feels the unnecessary need to DM me or send me an anonymous ask, don’t. Practice self-restraint. I don’t care to hear whatever string of words you feel so compelled to share, insisting that I’m “wrong,” a “loser,” or a “failure,” and that “the system works” because your upline Crown Diamond, Double-Eagle Ruby, Emerald, or your brother, sister, mom, dad, cousin, or whoever else told you so or claims to be a living testament of- it doesn’t and I’m most certainly not. Even if you do know “someone at the top,” it is at the expense of hundreds, if not thousands, of people beneath them, funneling money back up through WWG tool kit systems and dubious “recruitment bonuses.” I won’t read whatever hogwash you send; it will be promptly deleted, and I will block you.

[perrydowning]

Time Traveling Home

Hello, m’dears. I’ve missed you. 

I (and my elderly chihuahua who looks like a house-elf) arrived safely in Palo Alto, CA this past weekend. The drive took five days; I needed bit of time to recover physically from the trip, the mad rush to finish packing, and all those little details one forgets about, even when you think you’re prepared.

Though the friend I’m currently staying with—henceforth referred to as ‘Auntie Downing’—offered to have my car shipped, I felt the drive itself would help me process the profundity of this change. This was the fourth time I’ve driven across the country, and there really isn’t another way to fathom just how massive and varied this land is. Not unlike the thoughts and feelings that course through me on a schedule only they know.

My traveling buddy, other than Dobby the Chihuahua, did about two thirds of the driving, leaving a lot of time to look out the window silently crying, make nostalgic playlists from our college years, and update each other on the smaller details of our lives—plus tell our new hilarious stories since we last spent real time together.

Mr. Downing had always wanted to take me to the Grand Canyon. On our way to New Orleans we had to choose between that or seeing the London Bridge (yup, the actual bridge) in Lake Havasu. Neither of us had seen it, whereas he’d already been to the Grand Canyon. And, really, you kinda have to walk across a bridge built 200 years ago in England, that had been built to replace the old, 1,000 year-old bridge … especially when the ‘new’ bridge is now in the middle of … Arizona? Because it totally makes sense to ship and rebuild an entire freakin’ bridge. Americans are weird.

At the time, we decided we’d make a proper trip to the Grand Canyon in the future. Clearly, that was no longer possible, but it had been so important to him that I experience it that I needed to see it, almost like a pilgrimage. 

So, I took his urn with me while I looked out on its vastness. In a way, he did take me to see this magnificent place. I cried—a lot. But I’m so very glad I went. It proved something I’d suspected—that when I experience something new, in a way, he does, too. There’s just too much of him wound through me for it to be otherwise. 

Two days later, we arrived back in the Bay Area; I played ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ as we crossed the border into California. It seemed only right to warn them. It felt really good to know where I was going without having to have my phone tell me.

Now, to the time traveling part. When I last lived with Auntie Downing, I was 22 and beginning my ‘grown-up’ life. First real job, finding my first place, all that. In many ways, it feels like I’ve traveled back to that point in my life, that place of not knowing. It’s been a very long time since I haven’t known the general shape and direction of my future, and, man, it is weird.

This time, however, I know myself a hell of a lot better and have more resources. So, even though I’m grieving, I’m also a tiny bit … eager to find out what’s next.

It’s been two months since Mr. Downing’s death and I think my brain is beginning to come back online, a little bit. My memory is improving and the fog is starting to recede. The mountain is still steep, but I’ve finally figured out what kind of shoes I need to wear for the climb.

It’s time for me to shift these sorts of posts over to my non-Reylo blog, @perrydowning-unplugged. I’ll post a link on this blog to new posts about how things are going for me, but the content here will revert to mostly Reylo.

As always and ever, thank you, so very much, for being such supportive and kind people. 

All my love,

Perry

[gutsfics]

Warmest Winter

AO3 Link Fandom: Red Carpet Diaries (post-canon) Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Avalon (M!OC) Length: 801 words Rating: General Audiences Prompt: @choicesficwriterscreations Naughty & Nice prompts: “Here, let’s share a blanket.”

Summary: Thomas and Avalon are visiting Thomas' family's cabin in Canada for the holidays. Avalon isn't used to snow.

Before Thomas has even turned the car off, Avalon is out of his seat and grabbing the bags from the trunk.

“Christ, its cold,” He complains. “I hate snow, I hate snow, I hate snow!”

“Sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite hear you, maybe you should repeat yourself a few more times,” Thomas responds, taking his suitcase from Avalon.

Avalon rolls his eyes. “Just help me with these so we can get inside.”

They both slowly make their way up the driveway, careful not to slip on the ice covered by the fresh snow building up around them. Once inside, they shuck off wet jackets and snow-clogged boots and take their bags to their room.

It was much bigger than their bedroom at home, with an entire sitting area and fireplace.

Thomas begins unpacking his suitcase.

“Is everyone else gonna be fine that we took the master bedroom?” Avalon asks.

“”I wouldn’t call it the master bedroom.”

“Explain, little man.”

“Of the nine bedrooms-”

“Nine?!”

“Five of them are set up similar to this.”

“Christ on a bike.”

Thomas turns from the dresser, raising an eyebrow at Avalon. “Hmh?”

“Owning multiple homes is bizarre enough as it is, but having multiple when just one is this big is completely insane. Fucking rich people.”

That you are, Avalon.”

Avalon snorts.

“But to answer your question, there is a reason we’re here a week before my family shows up, and part of it relates to this room being a bit… nicer than the others.”

“We’re here a week early?”

“Yes. I wanted to have some alone time with you before the holidays begin and it gets hectic.”

“We couldn’t have had alone time somewhere that doesn’t get snow up to your tits?”

“Not your tits.”

“Yeah. I said yours, not a general you.”

“I wanted to give you some time to get used to the snow.”

“Thanks, but I doubt that’ll happen in a week.”

“Likely not,” Thomas agrees. He crosses the room. “Let me get a fire going, you haven’t stopped shivering since we got inside.”

Within a few minutes, the room is filled with the light and warmth of a pleasantly crackling fire.

“Better?” Thomas asks.

“A bit,” Avalon answers, huddling close to the fire.

Thomas watches him rub his hands together and hold them closer to the fire. “...I’ll be right back.”

“Mhm.”

Thomas leaves the room and heads across the ground floor to the kitchen.

Now that he had been living in what their realtor had described as a “starter home” with Avalon for the past few years, he agreed with Avalon’s sentiment that this was a ridiculous amount of space for a single family to have.

At least for the next month it would house not only him and Avalon, but his parents, siblings and their spouses, and any nieces and nephews he may or may not currently know about.

But yes, a family of six in a house this size may have been overkill.

Especially considering they only stayed here occasionally, during holidays. The house he had grown up in was bigger.

Thomas mixes milk, sugar, and cocoa powder in a sauce pan and lets it come to a boil, glad he had convinced Avalon for them to do a little grocery shopping before they arrived.

Once the hot chocolate is ready, he pours it into a teapot and carries it, two mugs and a bottle of peppermint schnapps back to the bedroom on a tray.

Avalon had changed into his pajamas while Thomas was gone and was curled up on a loveseat near the fire, his dressing gown wrapped tightly around him.

Thomas places the tray on the side table next to the couch and leans over the back of it, wrapping his arms around Avalon and kissing the side of his neck. Avalon’s skin is unusually cool to the touch. “Still cold?” Thomas asks, frowning.

Avalon shrugs a shoulder, lifting a hand to card his fingers through Thomas’ hair. “A little. Changing from my wet clothes helped.”

“Here, let’s share a blanket.” Thomas pulls away from Avalon to get a quilt from the chest at the foot of the bed. He gives it to Avalon before pouring hot cocoa and a shot of schnapps each into the two mugs.

“I didn’t know you like hot chocolate,” Avalon says as he takes the mug.

Thomas curls up against Avalon’s side, getting comfortable under the blanket. “It’s nice when the weather is right.”

Avalon nods and hums quietly in agreement. “Doesn’t get cold enough in LA.” He takes a sip. “Oh, that’s good. Thank you.”

Thomas responds by snuggling closer, leaning up to kiss Avalon’s jaw.

And with that, the two men fall into a comfortable silence, sipping their drinks and enjoying the warmth and company.

[nickgerlich]

Get Ready To Shop

It’s fun to think back to the 80s. While it seems like they weren’t that long ago, we must sober up and realize that was—um—40 years ago, depending on which year you’re recalling. Those were good years for me. I earned a BA, MBA, and PhD, and started my job at WT. Oh, and got married the first time. OK, four out of five ain’t bad.



It was the time of hair bands, women in colorful leotards and cozy leg warmers, and Ronald Reagan. Actually, if you could mash up all of them into one, it would be pretty funny. And it was also the decade that televised home shopping clubs took root, thanks to the prevalence of cable TV.



Home Shopping Club (later Home Shopping Network, or HSN) was founded in 1982, and four years later, QVC (Quality Value Convenience) came along to compete. They’re both still in existence today, although the company that owns QVC now also owns HSN. It’s an alphabet soup, but the premise is the same: nonstop 24/7 live selling.



While these started out primarily as liquidators, they quickly grew into a variety of categories, especially clothing and accessories sought by women. Fashion designers jumped on board, drooling at the prospects of a sales platform that could stretch as long as the company wanted. Create excitement, show a quantity available countdown clock, and voilá! The phones were ringing off the hook as folks called in (remember, this was pre-internet!).

To be honest, I think those original stations preyed upon lonely old women. My mother was one of them. She bought a lot of worthless junk from them, but at the same time, they provided entertainment. For the life of me, I cannot understand how having someone sell to you nonstop is entertaining, but it was.

I never tuned in to those stations on my own, but would be subjected to them whenever we visited Florida. And now that both are gone, I haven’t even given a passing thought to them. Well, until right now, when I discovered that livestream shopping may be the new rage, and outlets like Amazon, TikTok, and YouTube are actually banking on them.

It’s a new spin on an old idea, and looks and feels a lot different from the 24/7 onslaught on cable. This time around the people doing the selling are influencers, and they call the shots for when they go live. And among the three platforms duking it out for prominence, only Amazon can actually stock the inventory and make for seamless transactions.

All of which means that, if you are a fan and potential customer of someone you follow, you better be ready to go shopping whenever they pull the trigger. In some regards, this now sounds like BeReal, in which users have no control over when they are called to action.

Perhaps the most ironic aspect of livestream shopping is that it became a “thing” in China a few years ago, especially during the pandemic. And while Amazon found it could not export its ways to China, the opposite may very well prove to be true here. Looks like another weather balloon to me.

Personally, I’m just not that much of a shopper. I tend to be very purposive, having done my homework for a long time on pricey objects, saving my money, and waiting out the periodic sales. I do not, however, respond well to someone barking out orders and telling me to get on this.

But then again, it may very well work stateside, where I suspect the demographics will trend sharply toward Gen-Z, and, depending on the product categories, probably more female than male. I cannot speak for all of the people of my gender, but I’ve got too many things going on during my waking hours to even consider being on-call for a sale. That’s me, though. YMMV. And to be fair, I can’t picture many women beyond their 20s—working, with children, bills to pay, spouses or partners—yeah, this may be a non-starter with them as well.



Thankfully, online shopping and app usage is lowest among seniors, so people like my mother are probably not in the new target market. Otherwise, we might see history repeating itself.

Just leave the bad clothing in your closet.

Dr “Hard Pass“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[harleythealter]

Today in Philosophy, recounting my experience. :)

We were being up things that brought purpose and/or meaning to our life. We had to use pictures so as I was scrolling through my camera roll, I took this very literally and made a sentence for each picture. For example there is a picture of my Bestie and I planned to say “I have my friend () up there because it gives me a purpose to try to make her smile. I had carefully placed my presentation somewhere between the first and second third of presentations to give me time to recall my phrases and pictures.

Well. As everybody did their presentations I was like… wow. When the teacher said “put pictures on here that represent something that gives you purpose or meaning” he didn’t mean literally-or at least the mass majority of everybody didn’t interpret it that way. And so I was lacking big things in my life because I didn’t know how to phrase those sentences (my really hot neighbor just drove past in a suit and I’m so distracted. Anywaysssss). I was missing key things in my life. So I had pictures of my cousins because i made it mean something to myself to be a role model. But no pictures of my family, who I love, but I intentionally have made my life not rely on them for a purpose. It was hard to change topics. Because this presentation wasn’t so much about what gave us purpose and meaning, but what meant something to us. And if something gives me purpose, on an extreme level, I live to fulfill that thing. But something can mean something to me without me being willing to live for it. So I didn’t put writing on my slide because it didn’t give me purpose or meaning, but it’s one of the few things that holds up my mental health. So basically I fucked up by taking the teacher too literal when I shouldn’t have.

Aside from that. During the presentation it mostly went okay, not what I wanted but its not as if I failed. One of my pictures on the slide was a picture of this tree I planted and I had been so excited to share because I was so passionate about this tree and I had given myself the purpose-the task of living to see this tree once more. Well. I explain it to the class even though that wasn’t the actual point of the assignment but I think it fit somewhat.

And my teacher had been asking really engaging questions, he seemed to actually care and that applied to me too, apparently. :) And he asked about the tree and why it was so important to go back and see it, what was the connection?

So I explained about how the willow whip came from my grandfathers tree that I used to play under. Which, while true was not a valid answer to his question because that’s now where the meaning comes from. I wasn’t sure so I just went with it instead of saying “I don’t know.” He suggested that often we find a purpose in leaving things behind, a legacy.

I think he was both closer to the point than he realized but also farther away. I realized 8 hours later, or so, that it may have been a representation of what I left behind, but not in a legacy style. I think the timeline fits that I planted that tree around the time I had started realizing how flawed my family was. It marked when I lost my innocence and realized what was actually happening behind the curtains my family had put up(physically and metaphorically). So… it was more about leaving behind my childhood and lack of understanding than a legacy.

Quite the thing to realize. Anyways. I still want to see that tree but I haven’t in five years? Four? And maybe there’s symbology in the fact that I’ve put it off for so long because I’m afraid that the tree(my last pieces of me as a child) are gone. Or maybe it’s grown and been protected.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 03/06/2023 (J Hus, Taylor Swift, Dua Lipa)

Content warning: Unusually murderous lyrics

Welp, it’s the eighth week on top of the UK Singles Chart for “Miracle” by Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding... maybe its last? We’ll see but for now, welcome back to yet another episode of REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

As always, we start with our notable dropouts although this may be one of those rare weeks where our returning entries are more interesting. Regardless, notable dropouts are songs exiting the UK Top 75 – which is what I cover – after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. Sadly, we see “Mourning” by Post Malone leave the top 40 after only one week in the chart, and honestly most of these dropouts are at least decent. Sure, I’m not complaining about “Calendar” by Nines, but we also say farewell to “Healing” by Tion Wayne, “Energy” by Digga D and “B.O.T.A. (Baddest of Them All)”... as well as “Mr. Brightside” because of course but probably most unfortunately, “ceilings” by Lizzy McAlpine. It had a good run, and if I end up making a year-end list, it would end up pretty high to say the least.

We also see the three-song rule in action, which is partly why I mentioned our returning entries, as both Taylor Swift and Lewis Capaldi switch out their Pokémon. Capaldi exchanges “How I’m Feeling Now” for “Forget Me” (back at #62) which is the more rote exchange compared to Taylor, who lets “Anti-Hero” drop out of the chart – finally – thanks to the new reissue for Midnights, which has allowed “Snow on the Beach” featuring Lana Del Rey to re-enter at #24 due to a superior version that includes more vocals from Lana since fans were clamouring for it. More on Taylor later.

For now, there are three more returns and whilst I can’t say I was ever a big fan of Tina Turner, both her legendary presence and comeback in the 1980s as well as her heartbreaking story that makes her out like a badass who survived a ton of abuse from her ex-husband and lived life to the fullest for the years afterwards, was impossible to ignore, and still is. She did live a long life, but I can’t help but think that the Queen of Rock and Roll still never got her due flowers when alive, and I honestly include myself in that – why I haven’t dug into her albums is beyond me. Sadly, Tina never topped the chart here in the UK, peaking at #3 a fitting three times. Only one of those songs, the US chart-topper “What’s Love Got to Do with It” from 1984, returns this week at #35. A 2020 Kygo remix of said song was her latest chart hit, peaking at #31. Weirdly enough, Warren G and Adina Howard actually took the song further to #2 with their 1996 cover, which is bizarre to think about. Her 1993 cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Proud Mary” is back at #44, with this solo version actually reaching a new peak since it only got to #62 prior in 2010 thanks to an X Factor performance. The original CCR track hit #8 and the version Tina recorded with Ike never charted in the UK. Finally, at #25, we have “The Best”, probably tied with “What’s Love Got to Do with It” as her best known song. I imagine this charted higher because 1.) it’s the name of her greatest hits album, and 2.) it has a really triumphant, celebration of life feeling to it. The song is actually a cover of a Bonnie Tyler song but her version went nowhere whilst “The Best” was a global hit when performed by Tina Turner, so she definitely owns this song in the cultural understanding. Her version peaked at #5 in the UK, 90 spots higher than Tyler’s, and actually returned to #9 in, once again, 2010. I don’t think all these numbers effectively represent the impact of Tina Turner, and I’m far from the best person to relay what she and her songs meant to millions of people, but still, rest in power.

When it comes to the rest of our gains, well, we see boosts for “Little Things” by Jorja Smith at #45, “Satellite” and “Late Night Talking” by Harry Styles at #36 and #31 respectively, and that’s pretty much it aside from Taylor’s already mediocre “Karma” suffering from its frankly terrible Ice Spice remix, surging all the way up to #12. We’ll see if it sticks around, but I have my doubts.

As for the top five on this week’s UK Singles Chart, it’s looking pretty standard – we have “REACT” by Switch Disco and Ella Henderson featuring the late Robert Miles at #5 – not complaining about that one gaining – followed by “As it Was” by Harry Styles, and “Calm Down” by Rema both taking their sweet time at #4 and #3. And of course, we have “Daylight” by David Kushner at #2 and “Miracle” at the very top, so now it’s time to run through this week’s newest chart entries.

NEW ARRIVALS

#75 – “Pelle Coat” – Lil Durk

Produced by Chopsquad DJ

I did not listen to Almost Healed. I probably should have but whilst I do quite like Lil Durk a lot of the time, when I see production from Dr. Luke and features from Kodak Black, Morgan Wallen and the late Juice WRLD, a lot of my interest flies out of the window, especially since “All My Life” continues to sour on me outside of Durk’s contribution. Thankfully, we didn’t get any of that malarkey as thanks to a video, a solo Durk track consisting of mostly observational story-telling is what charted from his album, which peaked at #14 on the albums chart this week. I love how the more intimate 90s R&B keys play off the looming pianos, fitting for how gang violence and paranoia is meshed with trying to live an average, everyday life and forming personal relationships with people you love and then see die, with Chopsquad DJ really delivering what is pretty much a perfect beat for Durk, so it’s no surprise that he kills it, without a hook and instead just a creeping refrain – “they’re scared to come outside”. Durk keeps his wonky, fast-paced melodic flow as he recalls events from his life for four minutes, with these specific stories ending up becoming trends and routines, to the point where his aunt can’t even trust him after he saw his cousin die right in front of him, which is just a small part of the second verse but was what resonated with me. It gets to an interesting question – at what point is family still family? – but seemingly understands his aunt’s visceral reaction, since Hell, he has at least 12 visceral, distrusting gut reactions to tragedies in his life in this very song. He ends the song with a duality: Durk knows what he’s done in his life, and isn’t scared to face them... but he also asks Allah if he can forgive him for the sake of his family. How I’d describe the last couple bars, droned on with melodious Auto-Tune, would be helpless and lacking control. In fact, he loses control of the narrative throughout the song, intentionally or not, as his bars get longer, more specific and more wrapped up in context, whilst his flow gets sloppier and less melodic until the last couple lines, where he feels like he needs divine intervention just to know that he can be closer with his own children and make sure his friends aren’t dying. It’s a pretty devastating opener too, considering the first track is just Alicia Keys initiating the therapy session and “Pelle Coat” is how he ends up venting to her. It may not be for everyone, but it’s a pretty vulnerable track from Durk that I’m sad has to exist.

#67 – “Talibans” – Byron Messia

Produced by Kelly Beatz

Ah, the Taliban. My favourite Islamist fundamentalist organisation currently in control of most of Afghanistan. This is actually nothing new for the record – in Lil Yachty’s “Oprah’s Bank Account” with DaBaby, which peaked at #54, Drake compares himself to Osama bin Laden AND Barack Obama, and Future continuously mentions the Taliban in reference to his gang, as do many other rappers. Hell, Drake seems to have the Taliban follow him everywhere – he was on “Life is Good” with Future that peaked at #3 and that had Osama show up in the lyrics too. Hell, it had DaBaby on the remix also, and both songs were released in 2020. I may have inadvertently discovered the weirdest trend in pop music in the last five years. Moving on, Byron Messia is a bubbling artist born in Jamaica and apparently from St. Kitts and Nevis, with this being his breakout hit... and it’s completely serviceable dancehall. The bed of vocal samples that acts as a melody amidst the fizzy bass and tropical drums doesn’t really serve much of a foundation: it feels really minimal, and the fact that Messia goes for an Auto-Tune croon instead of a more threatening delivery just makes this feel pretty dissonant. The creeping violence in the pre-chorus – where he says that the brain will be shot so far it ends up in Canada which, unless something’s lost in the language barrier, is pretty funny – does not mix with this cloudy dancehall pop at all, and it really wouldn’t bother me if he were more interesting in his delivery or if there was anything to this production, and no, repeating the chorus with ridiculous vibrato inflections as the outro is not “interesting”. I guess it’s completely fine but I definitely won’t be returning to this.

#63 – “Good Love” – Hannah Laing and RoRo

Produced by Hannah Laing and James Hurr

Alright, I’ll bite: who the Hell are any of these people? So Hannah Laing is a Scottish DJ from Dundee who’s been doing mixes and bootlegs for quite a while now, and has some connections in the Ibiza circuit, as well as podcasts, club nights and a recent documentary. James Hurr is a London producer, and RoRo is an R&B singer from Barbados. This track, topped with a very Scottish cover art, is a club banger based on RoRo’s pitch-shifted vocals about love and freedom, and I’ll say – great choice for a hook, Hannah, if this is a remix, and great idea, RoRo, if it isn’t – “give me permission to lose my head” is a banger line to put at the end of your refrain for a hardcore track. The breakbeats waiver off of the warped bass before clashing into a muted yet alarming synth kick keeping everything just tight enough for an explosion to eventually come around the corner, and then... well, it doesn’t happen immediately. We get a festival-ready moment of tension that sticks for way longer than I assumed it would, chopping up RoRo’s vocals into an entirely new hook, as the breakbeats ramp up in intensity amidst all the reverb and filters, only for it to tighten right back up again. If I’m honest, I do feel kind of cheaped out of a good climax here, and I’m kind of underwhelmed by the “drop” if you can call it that – it feels more like just returning to the song as usual, with not much changed in terms of melodies or synth layering, and especially not production, to make it feel all that worth it. Maybe an extended mix would help me enjoy this since it brings the potential for more build-up and more punch, and I have no doubt this would go hard thrown in a DJ mix, but I feel like it’s not quite there for me yet, which is a shame since this sound usually clicks with me immediately. There’s a great foundation here, with good ideas, but it just doesn’t hit like I want it to.  

#20 – “Dance the Night” (From Barbie the Album) – Dua Lipa

Produced by Mark Ronson, Picard Brothers and Andrew Wyatt

I could not care less for the Barbie movie, but a star-studded soundtrack with Mark Ronson at the helm sounds like more my speed, especially if it’s going to go all-out with the camp style of the brand. I do feel Ronson could potentially fumble this by wanting to make it feel cool, which really shouldn’t be happening when one of the songs is a cover of Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” with Nicki Minaj and Ice Spice... but I’ll definitely be listening to it when it comes out to hear if Ronson spares his dignity on this record, which he really shouldn’t when considering what he’s actually making the soundtrack for. This Dua Lipa single is the lead-off for the Barbie moment of the Summer, and... yeah, this sure sounds like a Future Nostalgia song. Given “We’re Good” and “Sweetest Pie”, I wasn’t really excited for whatever Dua was seemingly going to put out sound-wise but at least it was a bit different to what we’d already heard her try and succeed with flying colours at. This just feels like Ronson re-sparking the magic of that last Dua album and I mean, you can’t really fail with that? The strings are immense, the claps are alive, and Dua’s ad-libs and harmonies feel perfectly orchestrated alongside the groove, which is something Mark Ronson has always been great at. Something else he’s great at is making something that means completely nothing sound as cinematic as possible – and given this song is just about, well, dancing and fun and some PG romance, the strings and twinkling keys do a lot of heavy lifting in making this feel like well, anything, yet it still just kind of feels muddy. The mix is dynamic, sure, but the groove is unchanging apart from the Disney pre-chorus, which we don’t always get, and whilst I love the harmonies and vocal riffing Dua engages in here, it feels like it’s covering up a melodically void chorus, one that’s not as catchy and honestly too covered in sprinkles to really work for me. I know, I know, I said I didn’t want him to spare his dignity, but I feel like he fell into that exact trap I was suspecting – Dua doesn’t get any funny lines or inflections, the song feels orchestrated which is a gift and a curse, and the songwriting is kind of rote. With this Barbie album, I want less serviceable pop music and more sacrifices – it would probably fit with the movie and brand more than he thinks it does. Alas, this is still a decent song, just not one that really elevates to a higher level like much of Future Nostalgia did. There’s some life missing here.

#18 – “Hits Different” – Taylor Swift

Produced by Taylor Swift, Aaron Dessner and Jack Antonoff

This originally Target-exclusive track from Midnights was naturally a fan favourite to be added onto streaming and with the newest reissue, this was one of the three tracks added – the other two were alternate versions previously mentioned in this episode. I’m sure for Swifties this was worth the wait but I don’t like this at all. “Hits Different” is about a vivid breakup that’s just so much more impactful than the others because of how the relationship felt. We’ve got an acoustic guitar pickup that really could find better use in some indie rock, that gets muddied with some gross-sounding percussion that hits in full force in a chorus alongside Antonoff’s buzzy synths and a really awkward cadence from Taylor that feels a bit outside of what she wants to do? I don’t know, pretty much all of the melodies here feel like reaches for Taylor’s voice and inflections, especially with harmonies that get kind of messy, and whilst that very much could be the intention for a song about a “catastrophic” breakup, it doesn’t really hit that this means all that much as she claims it to. Sure, it’s in the writing, but by the time we get to Taylor’s borderline yelling and rapping in the bridge, I’m confused to why this isn’t in full mourning mode. If it’s not easy to move on, why is the song so breezy and flowery in how she sloppily moves through overwritten lines? That third verse also feels kind of tacked on and unnecessarily dissonant for a song that just ends up continuing as if nothing’s changed. I suppose it’s a fine pop song, but it feels like the fundamentals aren’t there so they just pumped it with nicely-produced Jack Antonoff Juice to make it sound realised. Even when charting in the top 20, this is still a bonus track and honestly for good reason.

#15 – “It’s Crazy” – J Hus

Produced by Fumes Beats

And finally, we end the episode with the comeback of J Hus and... man, this is devilish. The beat from Fumes Beats is pretty standard drill with a particularly menacing acoustic guitar, oddly infectious vocal loops and a hard-hitting 808, but Hus is really the main story here, and he’s completely unhinged in borderline sadistic violence, with a flow that is basically Ol’ Dirty Bastard levels of just barely staying on beat yet still piquing your interest with menace and madness. The comic antagonism gets to really interesting places, especially when he basically just starts talking, criticising people for wanting to see him as a villain when he’s living his life peacefully before immediately back-tracking and saying he’s been feeling evil recently – but not recently, just forever. There’s a rasp and grit to his voice here, but it’s not overwhelming or fully aggressive, making it feel even more out-there and honestly damn near creepy, with a great rhyme scheme in the first verse making up for the purposefully awkward silences. The first verse starts with psychological torture and the second starts with just straight-up sadistic torture, with a build-up of eerie Halloween synths that really makes this feel as evil as possible. It’s not surprising he compares himself to the Joker, but calling himself the “father” of pain and trauma goes unnecessarily hard, and he even admits to murder giving him a boner. There’s a soaring screech of strings that just barely intercepts the bass in the second half of the second verse and, no pun intended, it is killer, and leads very well back into the chorus, if you can call it that. I didn’t really expect the highest debut this week to be as murderous as this, but as someone who likes their hardcore rap particularly unhinged, I’m surprised to see this as a lead single, but definitely not complaining. This is insane.

Conclusion

I feel like I need to give J Hus Best of the Week for “It’s Crazy” since I’m pretty sure if I don’t, I won’t see another chart, but it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, with the very close Honourable Mention going to Lil Durk for “Pelle Coat”. Good week for paranoid murder raps, I guess. As for the rest, it really wasn’t a standout week in either extreme, but I think I’m giving Worst of the Week to Taylor Swift for “Hits Different” with a Dishonourable Mention to “Talibans” by Byron Messia, just for being pretty boring. For what’s on the horizon, I think we can expect an overthrow at the very top, but elsewhere, I guess we’ll find out. Thanks for reading, and I’ll see you next week!