kimchiplz-blog

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

reunion

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: Slow burn; unrequited love; angst; yearning; divorced Art Donaldson; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; safe sex

Summary: It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson is supposed to be here?"

The question is whispered behind you and makes your hand freeze in its signing. You're half-bent over the table at reception, fingers tight around a pen as your mind is jogged.

No way was he turning up, that's what Anne had said.

Tashi will be there, she's the head of the goddamn reunion committee, the ink is still wet on their divorce—that's what Anne had said. Hell, she'd sworn it.

So what the hell is he doing here?

The sound of your name jogs your attention and you manage to finish signing in. You straighten, taking up your name tag and haphazardly slapping the adhesive onto your top. You need a drink, and quickly. You're halfway to the bar before you feel someone wind their arm through yours.

"Okay, I know you didn't wanna come—"

"Anne."

"And I so appreciate you being here so that I didn't have to come alone—"

"Anne—"

"But I got some news and it's going to be a little shocking so I think you should hear it from me—"

"I know he's here."

"What?" Anne freezes, her arm dropping from yours. You turn to see her looking stricken, her cheeks pinking with panic and embarrassment. You sigh softly, glancing around your fellow alumni. Less than half of them look familiar; your eyes catch on the odd face before you realize that you're inadvertently looking for him.

"Look, there are, like...Five hundred people here, alright?" You add. "I probably won't even see him."

"We can go."

"Look, we made the trip, we're here, we may as well stay. It's fine, okay? We're all adults here! It doesn't matter!" Your insistence is chased by a slightly hysterical laugh. "It was, like, a hundred years ago."

"...You're sure?"

"I am positive."

Positive that you need a drink, and positive that you're going to regret agreeing to stay.

--

It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

You were friends, sure. You palled around, had a few classes together, hung out at a few parties—but he was so in love with Tashi Duncan that you'd never made his romantic radar. You'd forced yourself to believe that that was for the best, that you didn't need his love or romantic validation to be happy. But you couldn't pretend that wanting him didn't sting.

He'd had a couple of girlfriends while you were at Stanford, but you could always feel, always see that they were never really his priority. It was Tashi, then tennis, then them.

The two of you had kept touch a little after college, but you'd pushed yourself to move on. Conversation had begun to fade, and when he hadn't tried to keep it up, you had resolved to let him go.

You'd avoided his name in the news as much as you can, but it had been hard. He was on billboards, packaging, tv—it was like you couldn't escape him.

Want melted to sadness; sadness shifted to annoyance; annoyance hardened into disdain. You couldn't see his likeness or hear his name without rolling your eyes. It wasn't his fault, of course, but the prospect of running into Art fuckin' Donaldson made you queasy.

Still, you put on a brave face for Anne, forcing your focus into conversation.

It's a struggle to keep your gaze from seeking him out. You take each sip with a little white lie, convincing yourself that you're looking to make sure you can avoid contact. You spot Tashi a couple of times, but you don't go out of your way to say hello. She's surrounded by a cloud of people—taking pictures, signing programs and name tags and old Duncanator shirts.

When Anne insists on going to say hello, you force a small smile.

"You, um—you go ahead," You nod, taking a couple of steps back. "I'm gonna get some air."

Anne's dark eyes flit over you questioningly before she blessedly lets it go, nodding and going on her way. You turn, swiping a fresh drink off of a passing waiter's tray as you leave.

It takes a few moments for the buzz of conversation to clear from your head. You take a gulp of the prosecco, wrinkling your nose. It's a little sweeter than you usually like, and doesn't mingle well with the three other drinks that you've downed. Tashi's not going to find your lack of presence or greeting conspicuous; you'd been cordial and on speaking terms in college, but the two of you had never been close.

Damn, but it's chillier outside than you thought it would be. The reception had been so warm, so crammed with people. Paired your head being near-permanently on a swivel, you hadn't realize how hot and tense you'd been.

You frown at the waft of cigarette smoke that catches your nose. Who the hell is still smoking in this day and age—

"Are you hiding, too?"

Maybe you can feign that you didn't hear him—that the sound of his voice didn't jog a hundred memories and trigger a flurry of butterflies. But before you can stop yourself, you turn, the words, "I thought you quit smoking," tumbling out of your mouth.

Art's smile widens as he draw the cigarette back from his lips, a stream of smoke pushed out of the side of his mouth.

"I did. Quit quitting, though." He takes one more puff before he flicks it away, drifting closer. "Hi."

Hi, like it's not the first time you've seen him in the better part of a decade. Hi, like neither of you are oceans from where you where when you last saw one another.

"Hi," You manage. He doesn't hesitate to draw you into his arms; he seems to almost do it without thinking. You only allow yourself a moment of resistance before you raise and curl your arms around him. The clean scent of his pressed jacket and woodsy cologne are muddled with smoke. The fingers of one if your hands curls covetously in the fabric of his jacket as his palms smooth gently over your back. You hear him draw in a deep breath, feel him hold it, and then release it with a soft hum.

"How the hell are you?"

Probably better than you are these days.

You shrug a little, mumbling, "Fine."

He draws away, eyes skating across your face.

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"I'm sure."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

You can feel him winding up for another pass at it, but you hold your glass out before he can. His fingers brush against yours as he drains it.

"Why are you hiding?" You ask. He shrugs, nods toward the door.

"It's a lot in there. I forgot what these events are like."

"People wanna congratulate you. They're proud."

"Are you?"

"I am, but I'll hold off. Don't wanna crowd you."

Your attention is drawn from Art's smile as you hear someone clearing their throat over the speaker system inside:

"If we could have the reunion chairpersons to the stage, please!"

You glance toward Art and find him fidgeting, his thumb smoothing across his bare ring finger.

"…Do you wanna go back in?" You offer. He considers before he says, "Wait here."

You watch curiously as he darts inside, and are stunned when he reappears a moment later. You just barely catch a glimpse of the bottle of champagne clenched in his fist before he rests his other hand on your lower back, steering you away with an urgent murmur of, "C'mon."

--

"I'm surprised you came," You tell him. Art doesn't look at you for a moment, and you take the chance to lean back against the hard plastic seat. He's as beautiful as he was the last time the two of you were together, the night before graduation—practically in the same seats. You don't know if he was thinking about that when he'd led the way into the stands, chosen where to sit. Maybe it was pure muscle-memory.

Either way, you don't know how long the two of you have been sitting out there, knees bumping, passing the bottle back and forth. You take in his profile—the slope of his nose and cut of his jaw; the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows.

"My therapist said it would be good," He finally admits. "Told me I needed to get out more, start getting back into events, work at the foundation...What about you, huh?" He turns, brows raising. "You always told me that you hated this stuff."

You're surprised he remembers.

"I do hate this stuff, but," You shrug. "Anne didn't want to come alone."

"You're a good friend. I never forgot that." He sits up and passes the bottle back to you. "What happened to us, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did we stop talking?"

I couldn't keep begging for scraps of attention.

"I don't know," You deflect. "Guess we just lost touch. It happens."

"I shouldn't have let it happen to us."

You look down at the bottle, sweeping your finger across a slipping drop of condensation.

"You were busy."

"You weren't?"

"Not in the same way," You laugh self-consciously.

"What were you busy with then, huh?" He shifts, thigh pressing against yours. "You used to always say you'd uh—burn out by twenty-six."

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"Oh, it didn't take nearly that long."

"What!" He laughs. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know what to tell you, man. A girl can only take a soul-sucking marketing job for so long."

"So what do you do now?"

"Still in marketing, but I'm a manager, so. Still soul-sucking, but making a little more money."

"You like it?"

"God no, but I don't know what else I would do." You pass the bottle back.

"Could find something for you at the foundation."

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head as Art sputters a laugh, asks, "What?"

"Don't do that, Art."

"Don't do what?"

"I don't need, you know—"

"We could use you—"

"You don't even know what I do at work."

"I bet it's great—"

"You don't even know if I'm a good worker—"

"Sure I do, I know you."

"No, you don't!"

You know it's a mistake the second it leaves your mouth. Art's smile wavers as he leans away again.

"I just mean—" You try.

"I know what you mean. It's been a long time."

"...Yeah, it has." You take the bottle back, drawing deeply from it before passing it back. "I should get going. I'm sure Anne's looking for me."

"Sure."

You don't say goodbye or tell him that it was nice to see him. You just make as hasty a retreat as you can without tripping over your feet.

--

@ a_donaldsonofficial requested to follow you. 3h

You're not sure what surprises you more—the follow request or the message in your DMs: Dinner?

--

His groan is sinful and low, and makes you rethink ever losing contact with the guy. Under the warm glow of the diner's lights, his eyes slip shut, fingers tightening around the bun.

"...When's the last time you had a burger?" You finally manage to ask.

"I can't remember." He admits it through the mouthful, and you don't begrudge him the couple of flecks of food that land on the table. You smile, plucking up a couple of fries.

"Art?"

"Mm."

"Why'd you ask me to dinner?"

Art sets the burger down as he swallows, taking off his napkin to clean off his hands.

"I was thinking...About what you said at the reunion."

"Mhm."

"About me not knowing you. You're right. But you know what?" He presses on before you can process your surprise. "I don't think you know me, either."

You think for a moment, brows furrowing. He's right. You know the image of Art Donaldson that's been projected to you over the years—on tv screens, in magazines, in online clips.

"...I don't think I do," You agree.

"Figured we should fix that. Catch up, fill each other in on what we've missed."

"Okay."

"So, after college..." He trails off, waving his hand. "Fill me in."

"Moved to New York."

"Uh-huh."

"Working in marketing."

"Burned out before 26—"

"Yeah, hit my capitalistic peak at 23."

"That fast?"

"I mean, that's the last time I remember giving a shit about work, so. Yeah."

"Relationships?"

"...A couple," You admit.

"Serious?"

"Yeah. One."

"Married?"

"No. Engaged." His eyes drop to your bare left hand, and you hurriedly tuck it into your lap. "Formerly engaged."

"What happened?"

"It just didn't feel right. I don't think either of us were ready."

"...Was it anyone I knew? I don't remember you dating much at school."

"Guess I didn't."

"You weren't shy."

"Well no, but—"

"So what was it?"

"I had the worst crush on you, dude!" It's another mistake, but where the last one seemed to make Art retreat, this one leaves his gobsmacked. His eyes widen, mouth opening in a wide smile.

"You what?"

"Oh, kay, you know what—"

"I had no idea!"

"I was very subtle."

Art leans back in the diner booth, watching you openly. You can see the gears turning in his head, and you wonder what he may be remembering, holding up and twisting about in this new light.

"...Huh," He mutters.

"You can feel free to forget that at any time."

"I don't think I will...I wish I'd known."

You consider for a moment before you shrug. "I don't know. I'm kinda glad that you didn't."

"Really?" His brows knit with confusion. "Why?"

"I don't like coming second, Art."

Art nods slowly, and you see something tight pass across his face before it's smoothed away again.

"You know what?" He smiles bitterly. "Neither do I."

You nod toward his plate.

"Your burger's getting cold."

--

"So, uh..." Art clears his throat as the two of you take slow, drifting steps to your car. "I'm gonna say two things, and I don't want you to think that they've got anything to do with what you said earlier."

You know exactly what he means, but you just grumble, "I said a lot of things earlier."

"I think we both know which one I'm talking about."

"Uh-huh. So what's up?"

"...I wanna see you again."

"Okay."

"But things are a little...Messy right now. Tashi and I are working on getting Lily into a regular rhythm and it's harder than we thought it would be."

You lean back against your car, tucking your hands into your pockets.

"Mhm...I hesitate to ask."

"Yeah."

"How does this have to do with what I said earlier?"

"I just don't want you to think that this is—"

"A consolation prize?"

"Something like that."

"Whatever you need to do to get in a good place with Lily is fine, Art, you don't need to justify that to me."

"Even if it means you come second?"

You tip your head to the side, pursing your lips. "It's different when it's your kid. I meant that I didn't want to be second to—You know."

"...Yeah," He mutters, looking at his feet as he takes another foot forward. "And for the record, I was thinking of asking you out again by the time we sat down."

"You could've changed your mind."

"I didn't. And I don't want to."

You smile, nodding. "Well I don't want you to, either." You straighten up as you fish into your bag for your keys. "Call me the next time you're in New York."

"Sure."

You reach out, cupping his cheek and leaning in, pecking his cheek. You pull away, smiling at the flush creeping across his face.

"Goodnight, Art."

"Night."

--

It isn't easy at first. Messages are far and few, mostly how are yous and how was your days. You think that as nice as the little swell of contact has been, that's all it'll be—but the two of you both start to really try. The odd text becomes the weekly phone call. Weekly phone calls become daily FaceTimes. On the nights when he has Lily, they're late, usually when you're getting ready for bed. On the nights when he's on his own, the two of you eat dinner together and chat over your calls. It isn't always perfect, but it's more than you could've anticipated from that dinner a couple of months ago.

--

"She down?"

"Yeah."

"Are you in a hotel again?"

"...Yeah." Art seems to admit it grudgingly, and you smile a little as you take up your toner and a cotton pad.

"There's nothing wrong with leaning into it if it's working," You argue. "And not to be that bitch, but you're not exactly broke."

"Might be if she keeps ordering room service and movies on-demand."

You laugh softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you swipe the toner across your face.

"How's your day been?" Art asks.

"Fine, standard. I had to fill out an assessment ahead of my annual review."

"When's that?"

"End of the week."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Mm," You shrug reaching for a serum. "Fine, I guess. I'm doing okay, my team's hitting their targets."

"You're doing better than okay."

"Art."

"You are."

"Well. Thank you for that." You glance over as he goes quiet, catching a glimpse of him as you smooth the serum into your skin. You raise your brows at the sight of his gentle, warm smile. "What is it?"

"You're beautiful."

Your face goes warm at the compliment, and you bite the inside of your cheek to tamp down your wide, idiotic smile.

"You are tired, huh," You deflect.

"I mean it."

"...I know," You murmur, reaching for your moisturizer. "Tell me what you got up to today."

"I had a meeting at the foundation. We're starting planning for the gala."

"Oh yeah? Have you done them before?"

"We've had three before, but I was usually playing or training, so I haven't been as involved in the planning."

"How's it been?"

"We're still in the preliminary stages, but it's been interesting, you know, seeing how the pieces come together before I usually see them."

You nod, picking the phone up from the mirror holder and heading into your bedroom.

"Where are you gonna have it?"

"We're still scouting locations...As a matter of fact," Art adds, "We're considering a few in New York."

"Oh?"

"I'll be down there for at least a few days, and I wanna see you."

You grin bashfully as you climb into bed, settling against your pillows.

"I wanna see you, too. Are you gonna, um—I mean, is Lily gonna be with you?"

"No, it'll be Tashi's weekend."

"Okay, cool. Just wanna make sure I don't mess up your time."

"I appreciate that." Art's tongue swipes across his lower lip, eyes sweeping across your face. "I gotta say..."

"Mmm?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing your apartment."

"Oh, really?" You chuckle. "Why's that?"

"It'll be interesting, that's all. I mean, you already take me to bed every night."

You laugh, covering your eyes as you groan, "Oh, god, shut up!" as Art chuckles.

"Let me know when you're free," You add. "Your schedule's gonna be weirder than mine."

"Yeah, I will, as soon as I know what it is." You watch as Art lays down, propping his phone up on the nightstand. "...Can you stay on?"

"Yeah," You soothe, setting your phone on the nightstand in suit. "Until we fall asleep."

"Okay," He murmurs. The two of you settle in on your sides, watching one another on the phone.

"Night, Art."

"Sweet dreams."

--

The restaurant is picked. Your nails are done, your hair is done; you get a new dress, new shoes, a new bag. You're going to have an amazing night—a good dinner, a great conversation, and, if you have any luck, an amazing good night kiss.

--

You know the minute you see him that you're not making it to the restaurant. Art's eyes sweep over you in covetous wonder when you open the door. He closes the gap between the two of you, drawing you into his arms, and this time you go without a second thought. He presses his face into your neck, letting out a gentle hum at the scent of your perfume. The tip of his nose trails up over your jaw, his lips brushing the corner of your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He sighs as you draw in a nervous breath, and he sways in, lips pressing to yours.

You raise your hand to cup his neck, shivering as his hands smooth over your hips. He guides you deeper inside, blindly reaching back and shoving the door shut behind you as you fling your purse toward the bench in your entryway. His kisses grow hungrier as he steers you down the hall. You slip your tongue along his, smoothing your hand up to grasp his hair. Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his pale, muscled chest to you. He slides down the zipper on the back of your dress and leans away just long enough to draw the dress up over your head. His eyes sweep across you, taking in your lingerie.

You hook your thumbs under the band of your underwear, giving them a teasing wiggle as you back further away from him. You expect him to follow, but he steers you back against the wall, dropping his head to suck hot kisses along your neck and down to your chest. He yanks one of the cups of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, tipping your head back against the wall and whining as he slots his knee between your thighs. You roll your hips down against the hard muscle as he laves and teases your nipple, reaching up to thumb and tweak the other.

"Art—Mm, god that feels so good."

He groans against your skin, trailing his kisses further down as he lowers himself to his knees. You look down as he curls his fingers around your panties—and waits. You smile softly, nodding, murmuring, "Please?"

Art grins, pressing a kiss to your hip before he gently eases the fabric down, waiting for you to lift your feet so he can fling them away. He leans in, swiping his tongue across your aching clit. Your knees would knock if he wasn't wedged between them. You draw in a shallow breath, letting your head tip back as he draws your leg over his shoulder. You shiver at the feeling of the chilly air against your heated, slick flesh. He nuzzles and laps against your cunt, taking each tip of your hips in stride. His hand smooths up your trembling inner thigh, giving your ass a gentle squeeze before he teases a finger into you. You whimper at the touch, unable to help the way your pussy clenches around it.

Art groans at the feeling, turning his head to smear his lips slips against your hip.

"Goddamn," He breaths against you.

"More."

You feel more than hear his gentle chuckle as he eases another finger in.

"Need it bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I'm getting a pretty good idea." He turns his head, leveling a sucking kiss to your clit that makes you cry out. You tighten your grip on his hair as he pumps his fingers harder, curling and scissoring them as he pushes you closer to the edge.

"Art—Mm, god, fuck, yes—Yes—" Your toes curl in your shoes as your hips rabbit down against his face and fingers, chasing the swell of your orgasm. You look back down as he draws back and find his lips and chin shining with your juices.

"Bed," He urges.

"You can fuck me right here."

Art laughs, standing and smoothing his hand over your thigh.

"We're doing this right."

"We could be doing this right...." You slid your hand down his chest to palm his cock through his pants. "Here."

You grin as Art's eyelids flutter, his dick twitching against you.

"Bed," He insists again.

It isn't far to go, and the two of you are entirely bare by the time you get there. You scooch back onto the bed, spreading your legs as he rolls on a condom. He's over you a moment later, and you watch the bulge of his biceps as he braces his hands on either side of your head. You bite your lip as you feel the brush of his cock against your entrance. You reach down, grasping his cock and guiding him closer.

You tip your head up, tongue teasing the seam of his lips as he eases into you. You melt into the mattress as he crushes against you, filling you completely. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding your legs over his, as if you'll manage to fuse the two of you together. Art's tongue swirls around yours before he captures your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips slowly.

"More," You plead, but Art keeps his pace achingly steady, even when you try to pick up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He breathes, "Even better than you taste."

"Harder, Art, please, god damn, please," You whimper. He tips his head to the side nipping at the hinge of your jaw as he reaches down, hiking your hip up even higher. Your mouth fell open with a stunned moan as he presses deeper, the slap of his hips filthily filling the stifling air around you. You arch up against him, nails raking down his back as you feel the swell of another orgasm.

"Art."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm—Fuck, almost—"

"That's it." He sucks his fingers between his lips before he slips them between your bodies, swiping across your tender clit. You begin to close your eyes, but he tuts softly.

"Don't—Don't close your eyes—Look at me," He orders between breaths. You force yourself to focus on Art, taking in the flush on his cheeks, his almost dazed eyes.

"You, too—" You urge.

"Yeah—"

"Oh—yeah," You gasp, unable to keep your gaze on his you cum. You feel Art's hips slap roughly against yours before he slows, groaning low in his chest. You draw in a deep breath as your heart pounds in your chest, sinking back against your pillows as he settles down over you. You smooth your hand over his nape, smiling as he nuzzles against your shoulder, dropping tender kisses to your skin.

"...Art?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're going to be late for dinner."

--

"You know, I've been thinking."

"You've been doing a lot more than thinking, mister," You mutter, and grin as Art laughs. You cuddle closer against his side, nuzzling into his chest as he tightens his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm glad I didn't know you liked me in college."

"Really?" You tip your head up, brow furrowing. "Why's that?"

"...I wasn't ready for you back then." He smooths his fingers along your jaw, eyes wandering your face contemplatively. "It's like you said, you know. You would've come second."

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

"I don't think I was ready for you, either," You admit. Art smiles.

"And you are now?"

"More than."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 9

"𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨,"

summary: it's the big day

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 9

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 8

next | chapter 10

The night was heavy with a silence that seemed to hum with unresolved tensions. Inside Joel’s dimly lit living room, the only sound was the soft ticking of the clock as Joel’s mind raced with thoughts of vengeance. He had just finished a tense conversation with Ellie, who had reluctantly agreed to stay home and get some sleep. Her concern had been palpable.

"Now, get some sleep, Ellie, I'll be right back." He said as he pick up his jacket and his truck's key from the desk.

"Wait, where are you going?" Ellie ask, "I need to go back to her house, I need to take care of her before her father's get home," Joel lies.

"Okay," Ellie said.

Joel closed the door behind him, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his shoulders. As he made his way to the truck, he could feel Ellie’s anxious gaze lingering on him, a reminder of the fragile line he was walking. The lie about returning to your house to take care of you was a necessary deception, a way to keep Ellie from discovering his true intentions.

The truck roared to life, its engine breaking the quiet of the night. Joel’s thoughts churned like a storm at sea, the images of your pain intertwining with the dark intent driving him forward.

He gripped the steering wheel of his truck tightly, knuckles white against the darkness, he clenched his jaw over and over again, as he drove towards the bar where Jamie was likely to be. The truck's headlights cut through the inky blackness, but they could not penetrate the veil of anger that had enveloped Joel. He was determined to find Jamie and make him pay for the harm he had inflicted on you. Joel’s thoughts were a maelstrom of vengeance, interspersed with fleeting memories of the tender moments he had shared with you. Every time his mind drifted to your pain, it only fueled his resolve.

He will keep you safe no matter what it takes.

The anger roiling inside Joel was a storm at sea, a hurricane of grief and rage that threatened to tear apart the calm facade he maintained. His feelings for you were like a fragile flower in a storm, blooming amidst chaos but vulnerable to the fury of the winds. Each image of you in pain was a dagger to his heart, a wound that only deepened with every second Jamie remained free.

When he arrived at the bar, he parked a short distance away, his eyes scanning the scene with a predator’s precision. The bar’s neon lights flickered intermittently, casting an unsteady glow on the streets. He watched from the shadows, a ghost among the night, waiting for Jamie to emerge.

Inside the bar, Jamie and his friends were oblivious to the storm brewing outside. Their laughter and raucous voices filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension simmering in Joel’s chest. He remained hidden, his focus sharp, his patience unwavering. Every now and then, he glanced at the entrance, his resolve hardening with each passing moment.

As the night wore on, Jamie finally stumbled out of the bar, his steps unsteady and his demeanor reflecting the effects of heavy drinking. But just as Joel prepared to make his move, a shadow flickered at the edge of his vision.

Unbeknownst to him, someone had been following him, moving with the same stealth and purpose. The presence was unsettling, a silent observer whose intentions were cloaked in mystery.

Joel’s attention was solely on Jamie, his anger and determination a palpable force. Jamie, heavily intoxicated, staggered towards his car, fumbling with his keys. Joel slipped out of his truck, moving silently across the empty parking lot. He followed Jamie’s unsteady path. The scene was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze.

As Jamie clumsily tried to unlock the door, the keys slipped from his grasp and fell into a nearby drainage ditch. "Fuck, C'mon!" Jamie cursed loudly, his frustration evident as he bent down, reaching into the dark crevice. The night was still, the only sounds being Jamie’s muffled swearing and the distant hum of traffic.

He kept his eyes fixed on Jamie, who was now still crouched beside his car, struggling with the keys. The empty parking lot was dimly lit by flickering streetlights, casting long shadows that danced with the slightest movements.

Joel’s footsteps were soft, almost imperceptible as he approached Jamie from behind. His anger was a fierce, controlled fire, burning with the intent to protect you and ensure that Jamie faced consequences.

As Jamie struggled to retrieve the keys, Joel’s voice cut through the silence. “Looking for something?” The tone was calm, but the underlying menace was unmistakable. Jamie’s head snapped up, and he looked over his shoulder to see Joel standing behind him, a chilling smile playing on his lips.

Joel's smile was devoid of warmth, more of a grimace shaped by his dark intent. His brown jacket, now illuminated by the faint light, made him appear as a looming figure from the shadows. He stood with his hands casually behind his back, but his posture and expression spoke volumes of the resolve that lay beneath.

Jamie’s eyes widened in shock and fear as he recognized Joel. “Mr. M-miller?” he stammered, his voice a mix of surprise and trepidation. The night seemed to hold its breath, the stillness around them amplifying the tension of the encounter.

Joel's demeanor remained unnervingly calm. “Are you looking for something, Jamie?” he asked with a pretense of friendliness that masked the dangerous undercurrent of his intentions. His voice was smooth, like honey laced with venom, creating a facade of benevolence while plotting something darker. The contrast between his calm exterior and the turmoil brewing within him was as stark as light against shadow.

Jamie, visibly shaken, struggled to maintain his composure. “Uh, I, uh, my car keys fell,” he stuttered, his hands trembling as he tried to retrieve the keys from the ditch. “What are you doing here?”

Joel’s response was as measured as it was unsettling. “Oh, I was just out drinking at the bar with Tommy. I think your keys might have fallen too deep.” He offered the lie with an almost casual ease, as though discussing the weather rather than the dark purpose behind his presence. “Are you heading home?”

Jamie’s fear was palpable, his mind racing to keep his anxiety hidden. The dread of Joel uncovering his involvement in your assault was almost suffocating. He attempted to push aside his panic, focusing on the trivial matter of his lost keys. The fear of Joel’s inquiry seemed to magnify with each passing second.

“Uh, yeah,” Jamie said, his voice betraying his unease. He began to back away, clearly eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere that Joel created.

Joel’s smile remained, but there was an edge to it that hinted at something darker. His voice was smooth, as though offering a simple gesture of kindness rather than concealing a deeper, more menacing intent. “Well, do you need a lift?”

Jamie’s anxiety was palpable, his body language betraying his fear. He glanced nervously between Joel and the dimly lit parking lot, where the shadows seemed to close in on him. The weight of his recent actions and the looming threat of Joel’s presence created a sense of suffocating dread.

“N-no, it’s fine,” Jamie stammered, trying to maintain a semblance of composure. “I’ll just walk.” His voice was uneven, betraying his attempt to mask his fear with bravado.

Joel’s gaze was unyielding, a quiet storm of determination masked by a façade of concern. “You sure?” he said, his tone smooth and insistent. “the roads aren’t safe this time of night, and it’s not a good idea to be out here alone.”

Joel’s demeanor was calm, yet his presence was a heavy shadow, looming over Jamie. “I can get you home quickly,” Joel pressed, his offer carrying an undertone of menace cloaked in false kindness.

Jamie hesitated, glancing back toward the bar, where the distant sounds of laughter and music seemed almost mocking in their cheerfulness. “Okay,” Jamie then said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you,"

Joel’s smile widened, not with warmth but with a predatory satisfaction. He gestured toward the truck, his movements deliberate and controlled. “No problem,"

As Jamie climbed into the passenger seat, the world outside the truck seemed to dissolve into a blur of darkness and shadow. The engine roared to life, its vibrations a stark contrast to the icy resolve simmering within Joel. The truck rumbled into motion, each bump on the road a reminder of the storm brewing in Joel’s heart.

Joel's mind was a tempest, a relentless maelstrom of anger and righteous fury. His thoughts were as fierce and unyielding as a hurricane tearing through a desolate landscape. He was not swayed by fear or hesitation; the night and its secrets wrapped around him like a shroud, fueling his unshakable resolve. He had witnessed your pain, and it had ignited a fire in him—a fire that burned away any feelings inside him.

Jamie, on the other hand, was ensnared in a cocoon of fear and uncertainty. The truck’s interior was suffocating in its silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic hum of the engine. Jamie’s eyes darted nervously from the road to Joel, trying to gauge the other man’s intentions. The weight of his secret pressed down on him like a leaden blanket, each moment of silence more unnerving than the last.

Joel's face was a mask of cold determination, his eyes fixed on the road ahead with a relentless focus. The darkness outside was a metaphor for the storm raging within him, a canvas upon which his resolve was painted in stark, unforgiving lines. He was a man forged from shadows and steel, willing to embrace whatever darkness was necessary to shield those he loved from harm.

As the truck continued its journey, Jamie's unease grew palpable. He realized with a creeping dread that the streets they were navigating were not the ones leading to his home. The road was unfamiliar, winding through the outskirts of town where the lights grew sparse and the shadows deepened.

Jamie swallowed hard, his throat dry and constricted. The weight of his fear pressed down on him as he repeated, “Uh, Mr. Miller, I think you missed the turn.” His voice trembled, betraying his mounting anxiety.

Joel’s response was a mere flicker of acknowledgment, his gaze fixed resolutely on the road ahead, an unyielding expression carved into his features. The night outside seemed to close in around them, the darkness a heavy shroud that swallowed any remnants of comfort. Jamie’s fear mounted with each mile that passed, his discomfort palpable as the unfamiliar roads stretched into an abyss of uncertainty.

“Mr. Miller?” Jamie’s voice wavered again, his nerves frayed. He tried once more to engage Joel, but the older man’s silence was more intimidating than any words could be.

“Joel, are you okay?” Jamie’s question was almost desperate, a thin veneer of concern masking his growing dread. Joel’s eyes remained fixed ahead, his face a mask of cold determination. The silence stretched, a taut string of tension that seemed to vibrate through the air.

“You did this to her,” Joel finally spoke, his voice a low, dangerous growl that cut through the stillness of the night. The words hung in the air like a dark omen, and Jamie froze, his face draining of color. The realization that Joel knew, that Joel had connected the dots, was like a chilling blade pressed against his throat.

Jamie’s breath caught in his throat, his mind racing to form a coherent response. His usual bravado crumbled, replaced by a stammering mess of excuses and denials. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His words faltered, a mix of fear and confusion rendering him almost incoherent.

Joel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white as he continued to drive further from the city lights, deeper into the uncharted darkness. The truck’s headlights cut through the night, illuminating the path ahead but leaving the destination shrouded in uncertainty. Joel’s eyes were darkened with an intensity that spoke of a burning resolve. He was a man driven by a fierce need for retribution, his mind a tempest of rage and protective fury.

The truck roared through the darkness, its engine a ferocious growl that mirrored the storm within Joel. The relentless rumble seemed to amplify the cold fury burning in his eyes. Joel’s patience had frayed, and his control, once a bastion of composure, was now cracking under the weight of his rage.

"Don't you dare fucking lie to me," Joel’s voice cut through the night, a blade of ice that seemed to slice through Jamie’s crumbling bravado. The truck hurtled onward, the asphalt giving way to the rugged expanse of the desert, a barren land that seemed to echo the desolation of Jamie’s soul.

Jamie’s attempts at deceit faltered, his voice a stuttering mess of fear and desperation. The darkness outside pressed in, its oppressive silence broken only by the sounds of the truck’s tires shredding through the emptiness.

Joel’s anger reached its breaking point. With a roar that shook the night, he bellowed, “YOU HURT HER!” The words were a thunderclap, a declaration of war against the man who had inflicted so much pain. The truck veered violently off the asphalt, plunging into the desert’s desolate grip, its speed a reckless testament to Joel’s unbridled fury.

"Fuck!" Jamie clutched at the dashboard, his fear morphing into a primal terror as the truck skidded and swerved. "Please! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" as Jamie screamed.

The landscape outside was a blur of shadows and dust, a chaotic dance of darkness that mirrored Jamie’s unraveling sanity. The desert stretched endlessly, an unforgiving expanse that swallowed the truck’s lights and swallowed the screams of its occupants.

When Joel finally brought the truck to a halt, the silence that followed was almost more oppressive than the storm of noise before. Jamie’s eyes darted around, seeing the monstrous transformation of Joel before him—a man driven by a fury so deep it seemed to burn from the inside out. The calm, collected Joel Miller was gone, replaced by a force of nature, a relentless predator with eyes like burning coals.

"Please, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, Please, don't hurt me," Jamie’s pleas for mercy were swallowed by Joel’s unyielding gaze. The fear in Jamie’s eyes was palpable, a reflection of the terror that now gripped him as he realized the gravity of his situation. “Please, Mr. Miller, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Joel’s response was cold, his voice a low rumble that held no hint of compassion. “And you must pay for it.” His words were a death knell, an inexorable judgment that left no room for hope.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jamie’s desperate attempts to flee were futile as Joel locked the doors. The finality of the action was a chilling confirmation of Joel’s intent. Jamie’s sobs were raw, a chorus of despair that filled the air as Joel reached beneath the seat and retrieved the hammer.

The metallic glint of the hammer was a dark premonition, a cold harbinger of the violence that was about to unfold. Jamie’s cries for mercy mingled with the sound of the truck’s engine ticking as it cooled in the night’s oppressive silence. His pleas were desperate, trembling with the raw edge of fear as he realized the inescapable fate that awaited him.

“No, no, no! Please don’t! I’m sorry!” Jamie’s voice cracked, each word a plea for a reprieve that would never come. His eyes darted around in frantic desperation, searching for an escape that wasn’t there.

Joel’s expression remained a mask of chilling resolve. The hammer in his hand was a dark and unforgiving symbol of his determination, a tool of retribution that he wielded with a cold precision. As Jamie’s sobs grew more frantic, Joel’s grip tightened, his own emotions a turbulent sea of anger and grim satisfaction.

"No, no, NO!"

With a sudden, powerful swing, Joel drove the hammer into Jamie’s head. The impact was brutal and final, a shattering blow that resonated with a sickening thud. Jamie’s body jerked violently, the force of the hit sending a spray of blood and fragments across the truck’s interior. The sound of the hammer meeting flesh was a grotesque punctuation to Joel’s wrath.

***

The first light of morning filtered through the curtains, it cast a soft, golden glow over the room. You stirred from a fitful sleep, your body heavy and aching from the events of the previous night. The pain, particularly concentrated in your thighs and between your legs, was a constant reminder of the trauma you had endured. Each movement was a delicate balance between discomfort and exhaustion, and you willed yourself to remain still, finding solace in the dim sanctuary of the room.

Your gaze fell upon Joel, who had fallen asleep beside your bed. The sight was both comforting and surreal. His presence was a beacon of safety in the storm that had engulfed your life. Joel, dressed in a snug army-green t-shirt and jeans, looked worn yet strikingly handsome. His features were softened in sleep, a rare vulnerability showing through the rugged exterior you were more accustomed to. His hand rested gently on the bed, his fingers curled around yours, a silent promise of protection and care. His arm was draped across the bed, propping up his head in an awkward but tender manner.

The bucket of warm water and napkin on the nightstand seemed almost out of place against the backdrop of your shared anguish. They were symbols of Joel’s dedication to your comfort, a small oasis of normalcy in the wake of chaos. His thoughtful attention to your wounds was a stark contrast to the violence and fear of the night before.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you—relief mingled with guilt, gratitude with sorrow. You marveled at Joel’s dedication, his sleepless vigil a testament to his fierce protectiveness. His tired expression spoke volumes, each line etched into his face a story of his struggle to shield you from harm. Despite the crushing weight of your pain, there was a flicker of warmth in your heart for Joel’s unwavering presence.

You slowly extended your hand, gently squeezing Joel’s fingers. The softness of his touch was a balm to your aching body and soul. Carefully, you called out to him in a whisper, “Joel...”

He stirred, his movements slow and groggy. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the depths of his concern and fatigue. As he became fully awake, his demeanor shifted from the soft vulnerability of sleep to a sharp, focused alertness. He sat up, his gaze quickly assessing your condition with an intensity that spoke of his unyielding commitment to your well-being.

“Hey, you okay? I'm here, baby,” Joel’s voice was rough but filled with genuine concern, the harshness of the night giving way to the tenderness of the morning. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge the extent of your pain and the depth of your emotional wounds.

As Joel's focus shifted solely to you, the outside world seemed to dissolve into a blur, leaving only the two of you in this tender moment of solace. The ache in your body was still present, a harsh reminder of the pain you had endured, but Joel's presence provided a comforting anchor, grounding you amidst the tumultuous emotions.

"I'm okay, but still hurt," you managed to say, your voice soft and strained. You shifted to a sitting position, wincing as the pain flared. Joel moved carefully to assist you, his hands steady and gentle. His concern was palpable as he looked at you, his gaze searching for any sign of distress.

“Where does it hurt?” Joel asked, his voice a low, soothing murmur.

“Everywhere,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “From my legs all the way up.”

Joel nodded, his expression a mixture of sympathy and determination. “Do you need anything?” he asked, his eyes filled with earnestness.

He reached for a glass of water from the nightstand, handing it to you with a steady hand. As you took a sip, your gaze wandered, and you noticed something that made your heart sink. There was blood on Joel’s forehead, a stark contrast against his otherwise rugged features.

“Joel, there’s blood on your forehead,” you said, your voice tinged with concern. You reached out instinctively, touching the area gently. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s hand instinctively went to his forehead, and he glanced at the blood with a faint, dismissive look. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said quickly, attempting to downplay the situation. “Just bumped into something last night. It’s not a big deal.”

His words were calm, but there was a hint of something guarded in his eyes, a subtle shift that made you feel uneasy. Joel’s attempt to brush off the injury was met with a frown from you, his casual demeanor not fully masking the gravity of the situation. The blood on his forehead was a silent testament to the violence that had unfolded, a stark reminder of the lengths he had gone to protect you.

Joel’s attempt to redirect the conversation was gentle, but there was a firmness in his voice that conveyed his concern. “You don’t need to go to the church fellowship event today,” he said, his tone softer now, but still resolute. “You’ve been through a lot, and you’re not in any condition to perform with the dance troupe.”

The mention of the event brought a rush of urgency and panic. Your heart raced as you remembered the hours of practice and the responsibility you carried for leading the troupe. “No, Joel, I have to go,” you protested, desperation creeping into your voice. “I’ve worked so hard for this. I can’t just not show up.”

Joel’s expression grew more serious, his eyes darkening with concern. “But you’re still not well,” he countered, his voice steady but tinged with worry.

As the reality of your situation sank in, you looked around the room, realizing the intimacy of the setting. Joel was here, and your father had not yet returned. Panic surged through you. “What about my dad? Is he back yet?” you asked urgently.

Joel shook his head slowly. “No, he's not here yet, I already spoke with your mother, made something up so she's not suspicious, said Ellie wants to make sure you're okay and send me here because I told her to prepare for the event,"

Joel’s gaze softened, yet there was a steeliness in his eyes that belied his calm demeanor. “Look, doll, you’re not strong enough to perform,” he said, his voice tender but insistent. “I need you to rest.”

You met his gaze with a determination that belied your frailty. “I’m fine, Joel. I can do it.” Your words were firm, a declaration of your will to push through despite your condition.

Joel’s eyes held a depth of emotion, a storm of conflicting feelings swirling beneath the surface. The concern etched in his features spoke of a man torn between his protective instincts and the need to respect your wishes. His gaze was a turbulent sea, reflecting a depth of care that was both comforting and unsettling.

“Okay...” he said quietly, his voice like a soft breeze before a storm, “But, I need you to tell me right away if you’re not feeling up to it, or anything else. Promise me that.”

You could see the raw intensity in his eyes, a mixture of frustration and affection that made your heart ache. Despite his gruff exterior, his eyes were windows to a soul deeply worried for your well-being.

You nodded slowly, "I promise,"

Joel’s relief was palpable, though he still wore a worried frown. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours with a gentle firmness. “Good,” he said, his voice a low rumble of reassurance. “Now, let’s get you settled," as Joel help you to get up, you held his hand.

"Joel.." you say, "Thank you," you look into his brown eyes, "For protecting me,"

Joel’s eyes held a rare tenderness as you thanked him, a flicker of warmth breaking through the stormy depths of his gaze. The sincerity of your gratitude seemed to touch something deep within him, a part of him that had long been guarded and hidden. His hands, rough and strong, gently gripped your shoulders as he knelt beside you, bringing himself to eye level.

“I’ll do anything to keep you safe,” he said, his voice a low murmur filled with an intensity that spoke of unspoken vows and sacrifices. “I’d burn the world down to see you safe, to make sure you’re protected.” His words were like a fierce storm, powerful and relentless, but also oddly comforting in their sincerity.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the space between you charged with an electric intimacy. Joel’s presence was a fortress, a wall of unwavering strength that shielded you from the chaos and pain of the world outside. His promise was a beacon in the dark, a light that cut through the shadows of your fear and uncertainty.

You leaned in, drawn by the magnetic pull of his words and the fierce protectiveness in his eyes. Your lips met his in a gentle kiss, a silent expression of the gratitude and affection that words alone couldn’t fully convey. The kiss was tender, a soft melding of your emotions and his, a moment where the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the closeness you shared.

Joel’s reaction was immediate and instinctual. His hand moved to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss with a tenderness that belied his hardened exterior. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, where the strength of his feelings was laid bare in the gentle press of his lips against yours. The kiss lingered, a shared breath of solace and connection, a promise of protection and care that transcended spoken words.

As you pulled back, the connection between you felt stronger, the bond forged in the crucible of your shared pain and Joel’s unwavering resolve. The look in Joel’s eyes was a blend of fierce determination and quiet affection, a testament to his commitment to your safety and well-being. The room, once filled with tension and fear, now held a fragile peace, a space where the echoes of your gratitude and his promise intertwined in a delicate dance of trust and protection.

As the warmth of your kiss lingered, the delicate tranquility of the room was abruptly interrupted by a soft knock at the door. The sound jolted both you and Joel back to reality. Instinctively, you pulled away from Joel, the sudden shift in the atmosphere a stark reminder of the world outside this fragile cocoon of safety.

Your mother’s voice came through the door, tender yet laced with concern. “Sweetheart, you’re awake?”

Joel, with a subtle nod of understanding, shifted aside, allowing your mother to enter. Her gaze was a mixture of relief and worry as she took in the sight of you, still seated on the bed but looking more composed than you had the night before.

"I’m fine, Mama” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering pain. “I’m feeling better, just a bit sore.”

She approached you with a comforting touch, her maternal instincts immediately taking over. “Are you sure, dear? You still look pale."

You shook your head, a sense of determination anchoring your resolve. “I have to go to the church fellowship event. I’ve practiced so hard for this, and it’s really important."

The conversation between you and your mother continued, the urgency of the situation mounting. “But you’re still in pain,” she insisted, her voice edged with a mix of worry and frustration. “It’s not worth making yourself worse.”

“I should go, Ma. I’m fine, really,” you insisted, the determination in your voice evident. You understood the importance of this event, not just for yourself but for your family’s reputation and your father’s expectations.

Joel, sensing the growing tension and the need for him to avoid your father’s possible return, decided it was best to make his exit. He rose from his seat, his movements deliberate and calm despite the underlying tension. “Well, maybe I should get going,” he said, his tone professional yet carrying a hint of warmth. “Ellie needs my help to prepare for the event."

Your mother nodded, her eyes showing a mix of gratitude and concern as she glanced between you and Joel. “Thank you, Joel. I appreciate all your help. Please, let Ellie know we’re grateful.”

"Thank you, Mr. Miller," you said to him.

Joel gave a nod, a subtle acknowledgment of your mother’s thanks, and made his way to the door. He paused briefly, casting one last, meaningful look your way. The intensity in his gaze was softened by a flicker of concern, a silent promise that he was there for you, even if from a distance.

As Joel left, you turned back to your mother, her hand still tightly clasped in yours. The weight of the conversation and the urgency of the event pressed heavily on your shoulders, but you could feel a new layer of understanding and connection between you and your mother. The barriers that had once seemed impenetrable were beginning to show signs of cracking, revealing the raw, unspoken truths that had long been buried beneath the surface.

With Joel’s departure, the room felt slightly emptier, but there was also a sense of quiet relief. Your mother took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions, and then looked at you with a mixture of resignation and determination. 

Your mother’s expression softened as she saw the fear in your eyes, a fear she had known all too well herself. “Mama, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to upset Father. If I don’t perform, he’ll be so angry, and I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

She took a deep breath, her hand tightening around yours as she searched for the right words. Your eyes welled up with tears as you looked at her, the weight of your father’s expectations pressing down on you like a heavy shroud. “If I don’t do this, he will...I can’t take it, Mama. I can’t take it anymore,"

For the first time in a long while, your mother didn’t look away. Instead, she held your gaze, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry for not protecting you, for not standing up to him. I’ve been a coward, hiding behind my role as a good Christian wife, but in doing so, I’ve failed you. I’ve failed as a mother.”

Her words hit you like a wave, a raw confession that peeled back layers of pain and resentment. You could see the torment in her eyes, the struggle between the life she had chosen and the daughter she had neglected. “Mama…” you began, but she shook her head, stopping you.

“No, let me say this,” she insisted, her voice growing steadier as she spoke. “I’ve watched your father take out his anger on you, and I’ve done nothing. I told myself it was for the sake of the family, for our standing in the church, but those were just excuses. The truth is, I was scared. I’ve been scared for so long that I forgot what it means to be brave, to be a mother who truly protects her child.”

She reached out, her hands trembling as she cupped your face, her touch tender but firm. “I’m sorry for every time I stood by and let him hurt you. I’m sorry for every time I didn’t speak up, for every time I told you to be obedient, to not make him angry. I was wrong, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you listened, your heart aching with the weight of her words. You had waited so long to hear something like this, to have her acknowledge the pain you had endured. But it was bittersweet, the apology tainted by the years of silence that had come before it.

“I promise, I won’t let him hurt you again.”

The sincerity in her voice, the raw emotion in her eyes, stirred something deep within you—a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. “Mama…” you whispered again, your voice choked with emotion.

She pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly as if she could shield you from all the hurt in the world. “You’re my daughter, and I love you,” she said softly. “I should have said that more often. I should have shown it. But I’m saying it now, and I mean it. I love you."

You buried your face in her shoulder, the tears flowing freely as years of pain and longing poured out. It was a moment of profound connection, a bridge built over the chasm of fear and regret that had separated you for so long.

For the first time, you felt like you weren’t alone in this, that maybe your mother was finally ready to stand by your side. It was a fragile hope, but it was hope nonetheless, and in that moment, it was enough.

As you pulled away from your mother’s embrace, the warmth of her words still lingered in your heart, but the weight of your decision pressed heavily on your shoulders. “Mama, but I have to perform,” you insisted, your voice steady though your body still ached. “I can’t abandon my friends like that. We’ve worked so hard.”

Your mother studied you for a moment, a mixture of pride and concern flickering in her eyes. Finally, she nodded. “Alright, sweetheart,” she said softly. “But let’s get you cleaned up before your father gets home. We don’t want him asking any questions.”

With that, the two of you moved with quiet efficiency, working to cover the evidence of the previous night’s horrors. The bruises and soreness were masked with layers of foundation, and by the time you were done, you looked almost as if nothing had happened. The pain still lingered beneath the surface, but on the outside, you appeared fresh and composed.

Just as you finished, you heard the front door creak open. Your father was home. Your mother gave you a quick, reassuring glance before heading out to greet him. You followed a few steps behind, your heart pounding in your chest.

Your father’s voice was the first thing you heard, deep and authoritative as always. “How’s everything been while I was gone?” he asked your mother as he set down his bag.

“Everything’s been fine,” your mother replied, her voice steady. “How was New Orleans? How did the preachings go?”

“Productive,” your father answered curtly. “The congregation there is strong, but they need guidance. I gave them what they needed.”

His gaze then shifted to you, and your breath caught in your throat. You quickly smoothed out your expression and stepped forward to greet him. “Hello, Father,” you said, your voice carefully controlled.

He looked you up and down, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinized your appearance. “Are you ready for today’s performance?” he asked, his tone as stern as ever.

“Yes, Father,” you replied, your heart racing as his gaze lingered on you. “I’ve been practicing hard,"

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Good. Have you been a good girl while I was away? Helping Pastor Ben and your mother?”

“Yes, Father,” you said quickly, keeping your voice steady.

He seemed to study you for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing as if trying to catch something out of place. You held your breath, praying that the makeup was enough to conceal the bruises. Finally, he nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Alright then. We’ll head to the church together. I’ll go change first.”

With that, he turned and headed toward his room, leaving you and your mother standing there. “Make me a coffee,” he added over his shoulder to your mother as he disappeared down the hallway.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief as your mother turned to you, her expression a mix of concern and support. You weren’t out of the woods yet, but for now, you had managed to keep things under control.

As you waited in the living room for your father to return, the weight of what lay ahead pressed down on you. The church, the performance, the constant need to appear perfect—it was all so exhausting.

Meanwhile, your father, in his room, couldn’t shake the odd feeling gnawing at him. Something about you had been off since he walked in the door. You looked put together, your makeup flawless, your demeanor obedient—but there was something beneath the surface that unsettled him. As he changed out of his travel clothes, his mind kept drifting back to the look in your eyes. He knew you too well. You were hiding something.

On his way back to the living room, your father passed by your bedroom door, which had been left slightly ajar. Something in the room caught his eye, a subtle shift in the air, and he stopped. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.

The room was as you had left it, seemingly in order, but as his gaze swept across the space, his eyes landed on something out of place—a wallet on the floor, half-hidden under the bed. His brow furrowed as he walked over and bent down to pick it up. As he reached for the wallet, a small slip of paper slid out and fluttered to the ground.

Curious, he picked it up, and as he unfolded it, a photograph slipped into view. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the image—one that shouldn’t exist, one that told him everything he needed to know.

It was a photo of you and Joel.

Taken in a photo booth at the Houston night fair just a couple of weeks ago, the series of images unfolded like a nightmare. The first captured your innocent smile, Joel’s arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The next, you pressing a kiss to Joel's cheek, was enough to make his heart pound with a mix of disbelief and growing fury. But the final image—the one that made his blood boil—showed the two of you locked in a passionate kiss, your hands around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, while Joel’s hands held you close, deepening the kiss with an intimacy that could not be misunderstood.

The reality of what he was seeing hit him like a punch to the gut.

The world seemed to narrow around him as he stared at the photograph, the air in the room growing thick with his mounting rage. How long had this been going on? How could you, his pure daughter? with Joel—the man who was supposed to be his friend, a man he had trusted?

His hands trembled, the photo crumpling slightly in his grip. The room suddenly felt too small, too stifling, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him. He could feel the anger, a searing heat that spread from his chest to his temples, blurring his vision with the sheer force of it.

In that moment, a dark cloud settled over him, a mixture of fury and cold calculation. He knew now that you had been lying to him, deceiving him in the worst possible way. The facade of control he held over you began to crack, and his anger surged.

You had been tainted by Joel.

His thoughts spiraled into a storm of biblical proportions, each one more damning than the last. To him, this wasn’t just a betrayal—it was an unforgivable sin, a defilement of everything he had tried to instill in you. The preacher in him seized on the gravity of it, framing it as the ultimate transgression, a stain on your soul that could only be cleansed through punishment, through retribution. You had not just sinned against him, but against God, against the very order of the world as he saw it. He was ashamed of you.

As he turned to leave your room, the photograph burned in his mind, each image seared into his memory as a reminder of the depth of your sins. His mind raced, formulating the words, the punishment, the retribution that would follow. He would make sure you understood the gravity of your actions, that Joel understood the consequences of his. This was not just a matter of discipline; it was a matter of redemption, of cleansing his family of the shame you had brought upon it.

"Father? What's going on?"

***

Joel entered his house to find Ellie already dressed. Tommy and Maria were there too, with Little Luke gurgling happily in his mother's arms. The small family was ready, waiting for Joel to join them for the church event.

As soon as Joel stepped inside, Tommy glanced at him, noting his distracted demeanor. "Joel, where’ve you been? We’re almost late for the service."

Joel stood still, his expression hard to read, his thoughts elsewhere. The tension in his body was palpable, and it was clear that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

Tommy exchanged a concerned look with Maria, then called out again, his voice tinged with worry. "Joel, you alright?"

Snapped out of his reverie, Joel responded in a low, gruff voice as he started walking towards the stairs. "I'm fine, Tommy. Y’all go ahead without me. I’ll catch up. Just need to take a shower first."

Tommy watched him go, his brows furrowed in confusion. Joel wasn’t acting like himself, and the unease in the room grew as they watched him retreat up the stairs. Maria shifted Luke in her arms, her expression mirroring Tommy's concern, but they didn’t push further. They knew better than to press Joel when he was like this.

As Joel closed the door to his room, the walls seemed to close in around him, the familiar space offering no comfort. He stripped off his clothes mechanically, his movements stiff, almost robotic, as if on autopilot. The cold bathroom tiles pressed against his feet, grounding him momentarily, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm raging in his mind.

He stepped into the shower and turned on the cold water, letting it cascade over his head, drenching his hair, and running down his body. The chill was sharp, biting against his skin, but it wasn’t enough to wash away the darkness that clung to him. The cold water was like a penance, a physical manifestation of the anger that churned within him. It flowed over his shoulders, down his back, mixing with the sweat and grime of the day, but it couldn’t cleanse him of the memories that haunted him.

As the water beat down on him, images from the night before flashed before his eyes, searing into his mind with a vividness that made him clench his fists. He could see Jamie’s face, twisted with fear and pain, as Joel confronted him. The sound of his own voice, raw with rage, echoed in his ears, mingling with the sickening thud of the hammer striking flesh and bone.

The first strike had been deliberate, calculated, smashing into Jamie’s skull with brutal force. He remembered the way the boy’s eyes had gone wide, the life leaving them almost instantly, but Joel hadn’t stopped. The fury inside him had demanded more, had driven him to raise the hammer again and again, even as Jamie lay lifeless on the ground. Each blow was a release, a catharsis, as the hammer connected with sickening squelches, turning bone to pulp, spraying blood in every direction.

Joel’s breath had come in ragged gasps as he continued to hit, his body acting on pure instinct, on the overwhelming need to obliterate the source of his anger. By the time he was done, Jamie’s head was nothing more than a ruined mess, unrecognizable, the blood spattered across Joel’s face and clothes like a grotesque reminder of what he’d done.

Even now, under the cold spray of the shower, Joel could feel the phantom weight of the hammer in his hand, the sticky warmth of blood on his skin. He could hear the dull thud of metal meeting flesh, the sound reverberating in his mind like a macabre metronome. It was a sound that would haunt him for the rest of his life, a grim reminder of the thing he would do for you. To protect you.

The cold water did little to numb the memories, the violence replaying itself in a relentless loop. Jamie’s face, the fear that had flashed in his eyes before the first blow had landed, was burned into Joel’s mind. The brutality of it, the sheer force of his rage, was something he hadn’t fully anticipated. He had known he was capable of violence—he’d done plenty in his lifetime—but this had been different. This had been personal. This had been revenge.

As the water pounded against his skin, Joel tried to focus on the chill, the sharpness of it, hoping it would pull him out of the dark spiral. But it was futile. The memory clung to him, heavy and suffocating, as if Jamie’s blood was still on his hands, refusing to wash away.

He had justified it to himself in the moment—Jamie had deserved it. For what he had done, for the way he had hurt her. Joel had wanted to protect you, to ensure that Jamie could never lay a hand on you again, and in that blinding fury, he had become something monstrous, something he had thought he left behind a long time ago.

The boy's voice still ringing in his head.

"NO!"

Jamie’s screams became strangled, reduced to guttural noises as the hammer struck again and again. The once-bleeding man now lay in a crumpled heap, his pleas silenced by the relentless assault. Blood splattered across the truck’s seats and floor, a vivid testament to the violence that had transpired.

Joel’s breathing was heavy, his hands trembling slightly as he surveyed the aftermath. The interior of the truck was a chaotic tableau of violence, with blood staining every surface, a stark contrast to the pristine desert night outside. The once-clear lines between justice and vengeance had blurred in the haze of his fury.

The desert around them remained eerily still, a stark witness to the brutal act that had unfolded within the confines of the truck. Joel’s eyes were hard, the rage within him momentarily spent but leaving behind a cold emptiness.

He turned away from Jamie’s broken body, the hammer lay on the truck’s floor, a silent witness to the dark turn of events. Joel’s thoughts drifted back to you, his resolve to protect you unwavering despite the blood that now marked his hands and the interior of his truck.

His fingers moved methodically, driven by a deep, visceral need to erase the evidence, to scrub away the blood that had stained not just his truck, but his soul.

He dragged Jamie’s body to the back of his truck, the weight of the lifeless form a grim reminder of the violence that had transpired. The tarpaulin was a makeshift shroud, hiding the brutal reality beneath its coarse fabric. As he carefully wrapped the body, Joel's movements were precise, each action a testament to his resolve to contain the fallout of his rage.

The interior of the truck was a chaotic scene of carnage, the once-pristine surfaces now marred by splatters of blood. Joel worked tirelessly, scrubbing away the stains with a rag that seemed too small for the enormity of the task. The blood, now a dark, congealed mess, clung to every surface. Joel’s efforts were relentless, each swipe of the cloth a desperate attempt to cleanse not just the physical space, but the emotional turmoil that lingered in the air. It was as if he were trying to erase the very essence of the violence, to wash away the sin that had seeped into the fabric of his life.

As he poured water over the dirt to dilute the remaining traces of blood, the sound of someone's voice cut through the silence, a chilling revelation that made Joel’s heart skip a beat.

“You’re gonna burn in hell,”

It's pastor Ben.

Ben’s voice echoed with an unsettling clarity. Joel’s body went rigid. He turned slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, as he faced the figure emerging from the shadows. Pastor Ben, standing with an air of grim determination, had followed him all this time, tracking the aftermath of the night’s violence.

It turned out Ben has been following you, watching you all this time—Ben had seen everything. He had been there when Jamie had assaulted you, and now he had witnessed the culmination of Joel’s fury.

“Joel, you’re a monster. I’ve seen you with her. You should be in jail, and you will burn in hell for what you’ve done. Murder is a grave sin, and you’ve committed it without remorse."

Ben's voice cut through the desert night with a chilling clarity. Joel’s body stiffened, and he turned slowly to face the source of the accusation. Ben stood there, framed by the dim glow of the truck’s headlights, his face a mask of grim determination and righteous fury. The weight of his presence pressed heavily on Joel, a stark reminder of the scrutiny and judgment that now surrounded him.

Ben’s condemnation was unrelenting. “You’re not just a murderer, Joel. You’re a depraved man who preys on innocent girls. You’ll face the wrath of God for your sins. You’ve defiled yourself, and you’ve defiled her.”

Joel, who had initially been uncertain about Ben's identity, now connected the dots. This was the pastor who had condemned him, the one you had spoken about. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and Joel's heart pounded with a mix of fear and rage. His secret had been exposed, and Ben’s condemnation was a direct threat to everything Joel was trying to protect.

Feeling cornered and desperate, Joel realized there was no choice but to eliminate this threat. He seized the hammer, his mind racing with a singular purpose: to silence Ben and protect you.

Joel lunged at Ben, the hammer’s cold metal a grim reassurance in his hand. Ben, recognizing the imminent danger, bolted into the darkness. The night air was filled with the frantic sound of their pursuit, Ben’s footsteps echoing in the still desert.

Joel was relentless, driven by a combination of fear, anger, and desperation. He tackled Ben to the ground with a forceful impact, the two men grappling in the dust. Ben struggled fiercely, but Joel’s determination and strength overwhelmed him.

With a grim resolve, Joel brought the hammer down, each strike a release of his pent-up fury and fear. The hammer met Ben’s skull with a brutal finality, each impact reverberating with the sickening sound of metal against bone. The desert was silent save for the harsh breaths of Joel and the final, dying gasps of Pastor Ben.

As the violence subsided, Joel stood over Ben’s lifeless body, the hammer still clenched in his hand. The reality of what he had done settled heavily upon him. The desert night was an eerie witness to the brutality, the air thick with the smell of blood and the weight of Joel’s actions.

Joel's thinking about you, his resolve to protect you unwavering despite the blood on his hands and the chaos that surrounded him. He had done what he felt was necessary to you, so nobody gonna take you away from him, but the cost of his actions was a burden he would carry with him, a reminder of the darkness that had consumed his life.

Joel’s thoughts snapped back to the present as he emerged from the shower, the cold water rinsing away the remnants of the night’s brutality. As he dried himself, he couldn’t shake the haunting memories of the violence he had committed. His hands, once steady and sure, now trembled with the weight of his actions. The sight of his blood-stained palms, now scrubbed clean but still bearing the marks of his deeds, reminded him of the dark path he had trodden.

He had buried them deep that known only to him. These actions, buried under layers of dirt and deceit, were the grim price he had paid to ensure your safety.

Joel’s resolve to protect you was unwavering. He was willing to sacrifice anything, to face any consequence, to keep you safe from harm. His thoughts were a turbulent sea, with the constant push and pull of guilt and determination. The darkness that had overtaken his life was a relentless force, shaping his every decision and action.

Yet, even as he clung to his resolve, Joel knew that every action had its price. These bones he's hiding will bound him to the consequences of his choices.

The world was a harsh and unforgiving place, and the karma of his actions would eventually come calling.

As he prepared to leave for the church event, Joel’s mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He had done what he believed was necessary to keep you safe.

He will do anything to keep you safe. to protect you.

He will do anything. Anything.

And for the first time in a while, he pray to God to keep you safe and forgive these bones he's hiding.

[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎbilly is introduced to your forest friends⋆౨ৎ fem witch reader x billy the kid

Giggling, you lead Billy by the hand into the thicket, crawling with trees and roots, shrouded by greenery. "We're almost there."

"Where exactly are you takin' me, darlin'?" he asked, clomping alongside you obediently. "I ain't never been to this part 'f the forest before."

"My friends live out here," you said simply, practically skipping in a way that made Billy smile.

"Friends, huh?" You had stopped in a clearing, letting go of his hand and kneeling in the soft grass. Patting the earthy spot beside you, you beckoned him, and he bent to your will like a swaying tree.

Resting your head against his shoulder, you pressed a kiss there that made him smile. "I think they'll like you."

Silence stretched for a moment, curling around the two of you as you waited patiently. Only the sounds of the woods were apparent, and they were a peaceful thing that lulled Billy into calm.

A branch snapped, and he looked up from where he'd been lazily stroking your hair. You straightened excitedly, grabbing his hand and squeezing. "Here they come!"

Peering into the distance where you were looking, Billy saw the shapes of different creatures begin to take form. He held his arm around your collarbone, hand stroking you there as you reached out to the little rabbit that came forward, snuffling at your hand and nuzzling there. You let out a delighted giggle, and Billy rejoiced in the sound. Oh how darling you were.

You lifted the bunny into your lap as a fawn made an appearance, sitting beside you like you'd known it for years. Looking up at him, you smiled, nodding at the creatures. "They won't mind if you pet them."

Billy reached out tentatively, stroking the fawn's ear, and she leaned into his touch, reminding him a little of you. He reached for the rabbit next, stroking its fur, looking at you in amazement. "They love you."

"It's part of being a witch," you said casually, resting your head on his shoulder again. The hand of his that wasn't petting the bunny was still thumbing your collarbone. It seemed that Billy was hardly able to stop touching you for more than a few minutes. You both knew it, neither commented.

Billy knew when he had a good thing, he had to hang onto it, keep it safe at all costs. And you were the best thing he'd ever had. Maybe his grip should be iron, but that would hurt you.

As time trudged on in the sacred space of your found heaven, Billy watched all sorts of animals make their way over to you. Foxes with shiny auburn fur, ducks, feathers still wet from the nearby pond. They all flocked to you like you were a storybook princess.

As always, he was in awe of you. Townspeople who didn't know any better always spouted the most awful things accompanying your name, names Billy wouldn't dare repeat. Based on their assessment, he'd have thought you were some kind of monster.

But no, here you were, sweet and innocent under his arm, as pure and perfect as anybody could get. Cooing at fur and feathers, smiling up at him, a filthy outlaw, like he was made of flowers.

Here in the forest, watching you in your natural sphere with the creatures who dwelt within, he resolved to be happy having you here, like this. His girl under his arm, the surroundings peaceful for once. It was quiet, true, and perfect.

Just like you.

tagging @kellielovesmovies because <3

[essycogany]

Why Sonic Prime Shouldn’t Be Canon

There will be 0 disrespect to anyone involved in this post.

Introduction

Think whatever you want to think and make your own conclusions after reading this. Prime is an entertaining show. This is only for whoever wonders why I talk about this show a certain way. Yes, the consistency in the franchise is already shattered to pieces, (no pun intended) but the excuse implies the mistakes in the past shouldn’t be improved upon. Making things worst doesn’t fix anything. Also, give the franchise a little credit, there’s more obvious reasons to believe this show isn’t canon then stuff in the games and IDW.

Why Are We Told Prime Is Canon

1. The writer for the games/comics and the director stated Prime was canon. I assume in order to sell the show and make it seem more important than it is. That’s not even an insult because so far, Prime impacts nothing in canon.

Ian Flynn: “It doesn’t matter, b/c Prime wipes itself out. It’s something after Advance 3, but otherwise, it’s moot. I didn’t want to sour anyone’s expectations or investment by spoiling how Prime resolves, that’s all. If you enjoyed it, awesom. Savor it. If you didn’t, then you can safely ignore it. Simple as that.”

2. While I don’t remember who said this, it’s also been stated Prime went through changes. It was originally meant to be written as its own thing and hilariously ended up feeling less canon because of this change. Which you’ll probably notice in a bit. Long story short Sonic Prime, like the movies and shows, is a disposable adaptation you can love or hate.

3. Aside from Sonic and Shadow, you aren’t able to spend enough time with the OG cast or world, so you’d need to know and understand them outside of Prime. Which debatably isn’t enough, but that’s a can of worms I feel plenty have already opened up, so I’ll only simplify it later. In the end, the show never gets time to establish itself in the OG world. Which has a terrible impact on the writing, but let’s move on.

Side Note: No, the shatterverse crew don’t count in my opinion. While they are similar to the OGs they are still their own characters with separate personalities and issues in their own worlds. They are similar, but not the same.

Evidence

Prime feels more like an origin story without the continuity of the games.

Example 1: Green Hill is Sonic and his friend’s home. Despite the games and IDW have them live everywhere that isn’t Green Hill. Classic timeline included. They barely talk about the place. I recommend watching “Where The Heck Does Sonic Live?” on YouTube. If you want the short of it, I’ll explain a few points and add my own as well.

Here’s most of the different homes these characters lived in.

Station Square, the Mystic Ruins, Emerald Town, and others use to be homes they stayed in and they’re never mentioned. It’s like they put the modern cast into the classic timeline. Which still had them not live in Green Hill. Heck, Shadow, Rouge, and Big are shown in Green Hill too and they didn’t even exist during the classic era.

This is how Green Hill is seen in IDW.

Sure looks like people use to live in this place. Sarcasm aside, Green Hill either wasn’t special enough for them to keep living in or they never lived there before and this was conjured up because Green Hill is constantly used in the games.

Even people who knows the bare minimum about Sonic lore would understand how baloney this is. Especially since Sonic and the gang has been established to be found in other places. Which is shown in the Origin cutscenes. They don’t clarify in the show who exactly lives in Green Hill and who doesn’t. They treat it like everyone’s home. Shows how much we know about these characters within Sonic Prime, doesn’t it?

Example 2: No other group of Sonic characters, locations, or worlds are ever mentioned/referenced. In Prime the blue blur meeting Chaos!Sonic should’ve reminded him of Metal!Sonic, but he talks as if he’s never seen another version of himself in his life. “Is that a… knock off me?” The lack of robot knowledge in this show is crazy when given more errors.

“Robots without flickies? Now that’s new.” I believe everyone knows how false this line is. Also, Orbot and Cubot doesn’t exist until Colors. (though Orbot is in Unleashed) Which is a problem because Prime is suppose to take place directly after Advanced. Which had several games before Colors. Where they didn’t exist.

Example 3: The OG cast though similar, still have their differences.

Big: He’s treated like a core member of the team when he’s not in anything else. Bro doesn’t even get much to do or say at all. He’s just there for the most part.

Knuckles: He meets Sonic in a completely different setting then in actual canon and doesn’t seem to live on Angel Island for some reason. At least not by what was shown.

Eggman: Still relatively fine, but teaming up with anyone even himself never turns out well. He usually doesn’t care for sharing his spotlight.

Rouge: Same thing as Big besides Dream Team. In the games/comics she usually does her own thing. And is also more sneaky and unpredictable while Prime shows off her more leadership side. She’s kind of half and half in the same to different category.

Tails: Surprisingly more closed off then usual and almost seems to switch sides with Sonic in the personality department. Emotionally that is.

Amy: She’s more of a motherly figure than anything else. Amy’s bird friend is pink instead of blue like in SA1. They also treat it like it’s always been with her but hasn’t. She’s also incredibly calm and collected compared to how she was during the 2000s. The time the Advance games where coming out. She was written pretty differently to say the least.

Not to mention one line in the entire show is the only indication of Amy’s crush on Sonic. It was implied not shown.

Sonic: He’s almost treated as an amalgamation of different variations before him. Except it’s his first time getting into an issue he isn’t ready to handle. Because he caused it. On top of that, this guy also carries most of his friends emotional traits. Amys’ excitement, Tails’ saddens, and Knuckles’ anger. Here’s why.

Prime!Sonic seems to be naturally affectionate then in canon since he hugs almost everyone in it. He’s also more emotionally triggered, childish, and inexperience while Game!Sonic isn’t. And has never been shown to be either. Not even in the IDW comics or games with Classic!Sonic. A younger version of him. Don’t get me started on the differences to the 2000 games like Advanced. Game!Sonic then was more introverted while Prime!Sonic is very extroverted. He also panics a bunch. As if he’s not use to terrible things happening frequently.

He can be very wimpy and whiny when it comes to confrontations. Which was never a thing before in any other media. At least not to the point where he’s begging and pleading to people over and over again. I’ll even admit this Sonic isn’t the smartest either. He’s the Sonic you’d be the most convinced to believe is a teenage boy. Besides Movie!Sonic.

Of course Prime!Sonic is still Sonic, but he’s as much of a Sonic as every other version of him. He’s not the same guy who use to not be a fan of hugs. Who can deal with atrocities without freaking out once. The character who hasn’t even officially cried up to this point. Who is just now starting to open up and is still having trouble with it. The silly hedgehog isn’t too out of character but is enough to not be called the same character. Sure, Sonic’s characterization is inconsistent in the games, but I’d say the 2010s is less out of character and more one noted. He at least carries these traits even if not written well.

- The “sentimental” line in S1 Ep6 is one of the few out of character things he says. Even if the blue blur thought this, he’d never say it out loud.

Shadow: He’s the best written character in the show. Not to mention the most accurate to how he is in canon. Even compared to some of the games and comics. He’s the true MVP of Sonic Prime and has the most common sense. I only hate how he’s literally pushed to the curve in every season. And how Shadow’s backstory is never referenced. Only implied by Sonic screaming his name when he plummets to his doom. But I’d argue that’s more so because Shadow is the last person left who isn’t implied to be dead. Sure, it reminds people of SA2, but that’s all it really is. A reminder not a direct reference.

I will clarify I don’t dislike the show for being different. I dislike the show calling itself canon despite it’s differences.

Conclusion

I know Prime “wipes itself out” but the original world doesn’t have the same continuity of the games either. The established world and lore in Prime is barely connected to the Games due to the writing, so wiping the shatterverse out doesn’t help. These may be small details but if you’re a person who might be interested in getting into the fandom it becomes small details that makes big differences.

I’m not saying if you think the show is canon you’re wrong. Actually you are 100% correct. It’s been confirmed multiple times and the deed was already done. I just don't think it should be. Does it really matter? It depends on what you think. Is Sonic Prime being canon a bad thing? I’d say yes and no. While I don’t think it was the best move, as long as Sonic Prime exists on its own, there’s nothing to worry about. Prime being canon isn’t a crime. It just makes no sense. I’ll leave it at that.

Stay Creative! 💜

[jellyfishsthings]

My lips. Your lips. Apocalypse.

Warnings: my shit writing, violence (kinda?)

part 2

I will be the first person to say it. School is boring. And that is a lot since Nevermore is no ordinary school. The only class that is interesting, yet exhausting, is this one. Mrs Smith is sitting across from me. Staring intensely in my eyes, trying to find the weak spot in my mental shield. We have been at it for hours and I have managed to preserve my resolve. Until now. She finally breaks in.

"So what is it about you? You seem quite ordinary to be going to that school." The cute Barnstaple across from me asks. He has nice brown hair that curls at his ears. Deep thoughtful eyes. He is mundane or better yet, ordinary, as he called me. He is perfect. But something about him screams certain danger. Tyler, Tyler Galpin, whom I have come to know as my best friend. My dreamy best friend, who I moon over day and night and constantly plagues my thoughts.

"That is top secret agent type of shit, you can not know" I answered him with a chuckle.

The memory soon fades, as fast as it appeared. I feel my shoulders sag from exhaustion and I try to find sense in the safety of my magical pendant. The one that keeps others at bay while also containing my powers. The one that keeps me safe not only from others but also from myself. Mind control is not easy stuff, you have to be hyperfocus. Do you want to control something or someone? You have to draw all your willpower and pour it into that task. Which is tough shit. Making someone forget or simply reading their thoughts or memories, even manipulating them is now as natural as breathing. Shielding yourself from others with the same powers is the hardest. There aren't many of us but we are more powerful than anyone else. So if you slip up, you are vulnerable to the world.

You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.

My ears are ringing. My mind is reeling. Each breath I take feels like hell. They are uneven, torturous and slow

"Drink this" I feel a cold water bottle touch my bottom lip. I drink the offered water greedily. My vision from hazy slowly starts turning itself clear and I can make out my surroundings again. "Better?" I nod and wait for the lecture to start. "So your shield lasted over two hours. You are strong, you know that, but you can not let yourself get lost in your daydreams. Especially when we are practising ".

"Yeah I know, I know" I heave, still trying to stabilize my breathing.

"Go rest"

I get up slowly. Unsteady on my feet and wandering through the halls while feeling my way in the walls, trailing my fingertips in the cold stoned wall. I enter my dorm and change out of my uniform. Putting on a white oversized shirt, half buttoned and collapsing in my bed.

The hours pass as I am in a half-awake state. Being aware of the room around me, but my organism turns to its usual state. And so I dream. I dream of him. What it would be like to kiss. What it would be like to date.

I am startled awake as my roommate slams the door behind her wake. Wednesday in her usual lack of colour stops in the middle of the room and sharply looks at me. "Good, you are awake".

I sigh rolling my eyes "What do you want?"

"I am going to the house I was telling you about. I might need your help."

"Why?"

"Because you are useful."

"Jee thanks. It feels good to be appreciated. "

The sun has finally set and we walk towards the school's entrance door, where a familiar Jeep awaits. Tyler, he is here. Enid and Wednesday are wearing their matching hoodie scarf things, as usual, I am left out. As usual, Wednesday climbs in the passenger seat, my seat, and Tyler doesn't say a word about that, instead, he flirts with her. He doesn't even greet me or ask about my day, as he used to.

I silently seeth as we arrive at what looks like a haunted manor. We break in and we start wandering through the house trying to find evidence. At some point, we are separated. As I walk into what looks like an old girl's bedroom, I feel a presence behind me, the hair on my neck standing as I grab the nearest object ready to attack.

Yet a strong hand shoots out and stops my blow easily. "Hey there. Be careful, Rockey, you wouldn't want to hit me, now would you?" The breath is knocked out of me. The moonlight hits him just right, highlighting his features, the soft smile, the high cheekbones and sharp jawline. His laughing face turns into one of confusion. He opens his mouth ready to ask me something, when a strange sound echoes through the room.

He grabs me and flushes me to his chest. He places his hand to my mouth and I feel my heart race. I can feel every plain of his body against mine. His defined chest rises and falls in a crazy rhythm, and his hands hold me in place with urgency. We must stay like this for a few seconds or mere minutes but it feels like hours as I try to catalog his characteristics.

"I will go check, it must have been the girls, please stay here."

"What? No, I am coming with you."

"Please." He uses that voice. The one he knows that can convince me to do anything.

So I stay put. Until I see a light shining into the forest. I find myself following it. Threading through the trees and the fallen leaves. Someone moves just out of sight. A knife is thrown my way and I drop to the ground. The figure stalks towards me and as I think that I am doomed. The Hyde makes its appearance, attacking what I assumed to be a man, tiring him to shreds. After it's done it turns my way, snuffing the air as I am frozen in place, terrified to the bone.

The sound of bones breaking fills the air as the monster in front of me turns into a … boy? A familiar one. He is covered in blood and unconscious. I make a quick decision and drag him towards his house, cleaning him up in his bathtub and stitching up the scratch wound on his pecs. Tyler is the Hyde. The Hyde is Tyler. They are one and the same.

I am watching him, studying him while he sleeps. He looks so peaceful yet troubled. I creep towards his father's room and find some handcuffs, thank you Sheriff Galpin, and tie him up in his headboard, waiting till he awakes.

words: 1.154 (there will be a pt.2.... propably?)

[zoros-bandana]

Ok ima be specific about this zoro x a science/inventor reader where she used to nice and clumsy with her inventions and hang around zoro until he got mad at her after thriller bark when she was caring for her and then timeskip then once they get back he wonders why she doesn't talk to him and itll be like a steven and connie scenario where there a big party as the others try to make them talk again but take the wrong way until they forgive each other

Hi lovely, I haven't seen Steven Universe so I had to do some research and I'm hoping you were referring to Kevin's Party? hopefully so since that is what I found to pull inspiration from x This was also really fun to write, putting in little bits from various crew-mates POV so thank you for this request

The Banquet

SFW

Zoro x fem reader

Multiple crew POV

Warning: slight Thriller Bark spoilers, slight Sabaody spoilers, slight Fisherman Island spoilers, mentions of threats (usual Zoro/Sanji banter)

Summary: The crews reunion turned sour once you and Zoro shared the same space. There was obvious tension from when you last spoke, hindering on the bitter tone of his words to you. With the crew sick of the avoidance, Nami and Usopp lead a plan to have you reconnect at the King's Banquet, hopeful the uncomfortable avoidance will be resolved.

Word Count: 3,400

"So you think this is going to work?"

"It has to" Nami insisted, turning her head in search of Usopp. She had strategically put a plan into place, sharing the news with everyone except for you or Zoro; giving the best chance of success. "If I have to watch them both ignore one another for one second longer I'm going to lose it! They can only sulk for so long before it gets under my skin!"

"I think it's making its way under everyone's skin; including theirs"

"Which is why this is going to work"

"Shh" Robin laughed, nudging her friend gently. "She's coming over"

———————

"Y/n" Robin waved, shuffling over to make space for you to sit down. You had gone in search of something to drink, the night still very occupied for the King's Banquet in celebration of your crews assistance to defend Fisherman Island. Along your way you kept a weary eye out for Zoro, shifting ignoring every green coloured object in your way.

"There you are... I thought I lost my way for a while trying to come back over here"

You gracefully sat beside your friend, huddling close as the music throbbed to your right. You held the glass in your hands, keeping it close to act as support, knowing the tension in the air that loomed over you. It was obvious since the crews return of the awkwardness between you and Zoro, almost deafening in a room full of obnoxious activities.

"Uh huh" Nami smiled, taking a sip from her wine. "That sounds like a certain person we know. Say, Y/n, have you had a chance to speak to Zoro tonight?"

You scoffed. "Absolutely not"

"Why not?" Robin question, her tone soft as usual. She didn't pry on such events, her usual kindness and concern for her friends making it easy to succumb to her questions.

"I don't particularly want to talk to him after what he said to me, and how he said it. I know he was hurt but there was still no excuse in how he put me down like that"

"What if he apologised?"

"Now we all know that thick headed idiot doesn't even know how to spell that word, let alone know how to make one"

"Y/n, answer the question"

You sighed, glancing quickly over in his direction, walled behind a few of your friends. You had always thought about it, approaching him first even just to get him to talk to you, but you never saw the point. How would he know he was in the wrong if he didn't initiate conversation first?

"I'm not sure" you looked back over to the girls. They shared the same hopeful face, smiling sweetly, making you feel safe in their company. "Maybe?"

"That's good enough for me..." Nami mumbled under her breath, covering her voice up as she took another sip, her attention shifting to Usopp.

———————

"Wait, what's the plan again?" Luffy scratched his head, tilting to one side.

"I already told you!" Usopp snapped, annoyed having to repeat himself for the sixth time in the last hour. "We get Zoro over to Y/n so they can talk it out and stop ignoring one another"

"Oh yeah!" Luffy laughed, "I remember now"

"Yeah, but for how long..." Usopp mumbled, noting Zoro as he sat in the corner; still from when you had all entered hours ago. He was occupied from the bottles of alcohol that surrounded him, clearly intoxicated by the way he moved, his eyes shutting in show motions.

Continuing his search, Usopp caught the eye of Nami, waving her down with a sly signal, letting her know the operation was in place. She returned the signal, turning back towards yourself and Robin to execute her end of the plan.

"Sanji?"

"Mmm?"

"You sure you want to be the one to do this?"

Sanji clapped his hands together, drunk on the thought of Nami. "Anything to please my sweet Nami-Swan!"

"Alright, sorry I asked..."

Usopp swiftly pushed Sanji into Zoro's direction, bracing himself for a clash to unfold. He was surprised when Sanji had volunteered to help, however, now understanding his willingness to help Nami, it became clear he would set aside his pride to be in her good book for a while.

———————

"Oi, Marimo"

"What the hell do you want, curly brow?" Zoro snapped, opening his eye. As he looked up it was if he had sobered up immediately, not wishing to be caught off guard by someone like Sanji.

Kicking the bottle aimlessly, Sanji ignored looking directly at Zoro, disgusted to be in his presence; but determined to obey Nami's wish. "I can't believe you're still just as drunk and useless as before. Or maybe I can, it is you after all... and I expect nothing but disgusting behaviour from you"

"What the hell did you say?"

"Oh, and you're deaf now too? A wonderful addition for the greatest swordsman you so wish to become"

"You better watch what you say stupid cook or the next thing that will be flying out of your mouth is those teeth"

Sanji laughed, amused by Zoro's attempt to sound tough; knowing he couldn't kick his ass if he was even sober. Lighting up a cigarette Sanji let room for a dramatic pause, building Zoro's anger all the more painful. He wanted to let him sweat, bath in his fury in a wish to escape, hoping the rest of his friends were sticking to their end of the plan; not screwing it up for his beloved navigator.

Taking a long drawn out puff, Sanji soothed the smoke around him, clouding Zoro's view. He was prepared to fight back if things turned sour, Zoro obvious to the script given, widening his stance just a bit more than usual.

"Not if I end up knocking you on your ass first, moss head"

———————

Looking up from your drink you noticed a comfortable laugh, meeting Luffy as he sat opposite you; Usopp sitting to his left. In one hand, Luffy had gathered a flowing bowl of food, unusual to the group as food services has ceased mere hours ago. They easily slid into conversation, Nami and Usopp counteracting off one another as usual; Luffy too busy with the food to chime in.

As Robin's eye slid from the group she noticed a commotion caused by Sanji, drifting her attention to where Zoro sat. She half nudged to you, although spoke loud enough for Luffy to hear.

"Zoro looks rather uncomfortable"

You followed her gaze, alongside Luffy, finding the tufts of green behind the stack of bottles and Sanji's tall figure. It was obvious the two were bickering - as usual - their body language intense and stubborn.

Amused by his friends, Luffy took a moment to finish eating, swallowing the chunk of meat wedged in his mouth. His body turned, already forgetting his mission but proceeding out of the goodness of his heart.

"Oi, Zoro!" Luffy called.

The group shifted their attention, looking over to where Zoro sat, apart from you, the grimace on his face a clear indicator of what everyone was looking for; a clear way for him to come over. Everyone around you exchanged a look, proud as Luffy waved his arms around, catching Zoro's attention.

All it took was Luffy's instructions, a simple obedience from the captains right hand man, and the plan would continue the smooth sailing in place.

"Come over here!"

———————

Intruded by the inviting idea of separation, Zoro quickly left from his spot. He ignored the wobble in his legs, grasping his swords tight as he shoved past Sanji, making his way over to where his captain sat.

From his angle there looked to be four of his friends, laughing and having a better time than what he was experiencing currently. He didn't mind if he had to listen to the nagging voice of Nami as she spoke, mindlessly chatting to Robin, who as usual, looked deep in thought. He would be happy to engage with Luffy when he could, making the top of his list for favourite people in a heartbeat, enjoying the pleasant conversation as he joked with Usopp.

As he crashed down into the circle he caught sight of something he hadn't noticed before, sitting to his left, hidden by the figures of his friends. A crushing stutter caught him in a choke, punching the air from his lungs. His heartbeat was horrifically loud, pounding in his ears, not expecting you to be here, so close to him; smelling so inviting.

"Y/n?"

———————

You could feel the group grow quiet, half expecting you to say something, surprised Zoro even spoke to you at all. It had been years since he attempted any form of conversation, the last time ending a lot differently than his current tone now.

"Hi?" you shrugged, looking away from him back to Robin, ignoring the blistering heat of embarrassment across your face.

Zoro grumbled something, half attempting to get up but remembered Sanji, looking over his shoulder as if to keep him in place. He refused to engage in any looming conversation, as much as they tried to include him, keeping to himself as he fidgeted, agitated of this current predicament.

He was trapped.

Once again Robin nudged you, laughing as you rolled your eyes at her now obvious attempt to get you to talk to Zoro. Her face continued to remain hopeful, even attempting to bring Zoro to join in; which he quickly rejected.

"Stop trying to make it happen..." you mumbled to her, leaning in close so nobody would overhear. "He is clearly not going to make things better between us so there is no point in trying to get us to talk"

Grinning innocently she took a sip from her wine. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Y/n"

"Robin, please!" you begged, hoping someone would back you up here. Everyone knew how much he hurt you, unable to hide your raw emotions after the fight, turning cold and almost frightened at his mere presence. And it stung, seeing all your friends ignorant to your feelings, pushing you to do something uncomfortable.

How come Zoro wasn't getting this treatment?

Why wasn't he being pushed to speak to you?

You stood up, unable to take any more of the growing intolerance between you and Zoro. If something was to happen moving forward you were not going to be the one to break first. "I'm going to grab another drink"

———————

Robin watched as you walked away, an added annoyance in your strut as you quickly chugged the remainder of your drink. She sighed, turning to Nami, afraid the plan was getting out of hand. "Nami..."

Nami held her finger up, stopping Robin from counting further, knowing what she was referring to. "I've got this"

She had noticed Zoro's dazed state, realising your disappearance may have unnoticed to him. Thinking quickly she drunk the remainder of her drink, pinching Robin's out of her hand, before finishing that as well.

"Oi, Zoro, go get us some more drinks" Nami extended her arm out in his direction, drinking glasses twisted through her fingers.

Zoro scoffed. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you would do anything to get some alcohol in that empty hand of yours, and I told you to" Nami pressed her lips into a thin line, handing her glass over to him. "Now go!"

———————

Mumbling under his breath, Zoro trudged back over to the drink table, slamming the glasses down. The table was still flowing with bottles of various alcohol and barrels of beer, which Zoro was sure to swipe of mug off on his quest.

As he fumbled around the bottles of wine he caught a whiff of you, transporting back to moments ago sat by your side. Actually, he never noticed you leave your spot. He wondered where you went, both as of now and after Sabaody. He missed you terribly, forcing his memory of you to be pushed to the back of his mind, too focused to worry about the addition of his friends. He missed everyone - even the presence of Sanji - but nothing hurt him as much as returning to silence.

Zoro missed your chatter, your laughter, having you accompany him with stupid experiments. He missed how you would annoy him with help, both to rest and to assist with various things in the name of science. He enjoyed your stories, babbling on with terms he didn't understand, but the joy in your eyes was enough to get him through.

He missed having you around.

He would do anything to have you back.

As his hand came over to the barrel, there was a slight touch, gentle and cautious, pulling away as soon as you both touched hands. The voice sung a swat apology, Zoro looking over to grunt at the person, annoyed of their close proximity.

Looking up he was quick to meet your eye, looking away just as fast, embarrassed he didn't see you there. Again.

It was a common theme for him tonight, almost overlooking you like a shadow without means. He was confused, hurt, but knew if something were to happen now would be the time to ask. He needed to know why you were ignoring him.

Maybe attempting to smooth things over wouldn't be so bad?

———————

"Beer, huh?"

"Hmm?" you stopped pouring, setting the mug down onto the table; grasping it firmly for comfort. You refused to look over in his direct, feeling his body do the same, unable to meet each other in an eye lock.

"I didn't think you drank that stuff"

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me. A lot can change in two years, you know"

He went quiet to that, skipping a beat.

"You still... doing those experiments?"

You turned your body towards him, cocking an eyebrow at his attempt to small talk; wondering what your friends had said to him. Surely Nami had got to him, assuming Robin was too polite to be forceful and direct him your way.

"Is this your attempt to say sorry to me?"

"What?"

"Are you trying to apologise for your behaviour, Zoro? How you treated me? Or are just going to pretend like that never happened?"

"I-" Zoro fumbled, not entirely sure what to say. "What would I apologise for?"

Zoro could see his response hurt, your face dropping, a slight quiver in your lip. Your hand let go of the mug, balling at your side in rage, turning your knuckles a ghostly shade of white. An inconvenient swear parted your lips, furious he had the nerve to even say that to you.

How could he still be so blind and ignorant?

Brushing past him you made sure to hit him on the way, cementing your frustrations. It wasn't enough to let him mentally paint the picture anymore, waiting for some half-ass apology that had no value to his words; only to stop you behaving in such a sour way. It was tiring, exhausting, wondering if maybe you would come back to him the same as he always used to be, forgetting about how he treated you, resuming your friendship, or if he would take the plunge and own up to his mistake.

And unfortunately neither was an option.

Zoro's head followed you, looking over his shoulder as you walked away from him. There was a drop in his stomach, realising why exactly now you were ignoring him; hurt by his actions. But Zoro had no idea why. Until he remembered the fight.

Your face held a familiar look to how you looked before, back in Sabaody; back when he snapped at you. He could clearly remember the whimper and shake of your lip, almost frightened by how he raised his voice at you.

You were scared of him.

He made you retreat from him - afraid to get hurt again.

Swearing under his breath Zoro realised what he had done, realising there was a reason for your blunt behaviour that he hadn't thought about before. He was so blind to his own selfish goal over the two years it never occurred his actions had consequences on you; or anyone else for that matter.

Leaving the glasses on the table, Zoro followed you, struggling to keep up as you darted out of the banquet. He picked up to a steady jog, the only indicator of you the linger scent that curled his toes to think about. A wash of blame fell over him, never understanding why it took him this long to piece together what he did. He had time. 2 years. 2 years to think about everything but somehow this slipped his mind.

He hoped he could repair what he broke.

"Y/n, wait..."

Zoro continued to follow you outside, a deep hazy blue surrounding you as you stood by the doors of the palace. It was quiet, still, the loss of people still hoarding in the banquet giving an almost apocalyptic feel.

As he lunched to you, Zoro's hand gripped your arm stopping you in your tracks, the amount of force made you turn on your heels, allowing him to face you properly. "Is this why you've been avoiding me?"

You struggled to look up at him, knowing if you did you would cry. His grip was strong, although you knew it would be easy to break away from him if you wanted to, giving you the freedom to disappear again. He just wanted an answer.

"I wasn't trying to ignore you. I was going to speak to you... I thought about it, but it didn't make any sense. I wasn't making any sense. I thought, if we are going to talk then I need to get an apology; something sincere from you. And so I came back and I saw you and you said nothing, and any time we were together, you said nothing. And now we're here and you're still not saying anything to me"

Zoro continued to stay silent, hoping you would explain deeper.

"What you said to me back then, how you handled your emotions and lashed out at me for helping you, it wasn't fair. And now I don't know how to act around you and it isn't fair. I don't know how to feel. I'm angry. I miss you. I feel like I'm out of my mind!"

"No, you're not! I snapped at you when you were just trying to help me, care for me, and you didn't need me doing that to you. I was cruel. And I came back and tried to act like it was no big deal, but it was a big deal! I couldn't stand the thought of you not speaking to me ever again, but then I was also doing it to you! I made a promise to myself and it got in the way of how I treated you, and so I'm sorry! Nakamas?"

You smiled up at him, ignoring the stream of tears that clouded your vision. There was only thing you truely wanted when the crew reunited and now you had it, an apology, a genuine apology from Zoro.

"Nakamas"

Your arms flew around Zoro's middle, pulling yourself to him in an embrace, feeling his body stiffen at the contact. You were aware of his strict dismissal of affection, however you didn't care, leaning into the idea everything was okay between you two. And it was.

Zoro reciprocated the hug, keeping you close, his face leaning down to bury into the tuft go hair atop of your head. His body relaxed, engulfing you tighter into his body, pressing the smell of musk and steel against your skin.

He was happy. For the first time in a long time he was happy. It felt so good, so right to have you like this; speaking to him again. It was if the moment he snapped a part of him went missing, your presence dissolving from his life and also a part of him he wasn't sure he could ever get back. But here he was, completely whole, and he refused to let something like that come between you two again.

"I'm so glad I have you back, Y/n"

[howlsofbloodhounds]

What are your thoughts on Delta x Killer?

I haven’t given them much thought admittedly, but I think they’ll cute in a way. Maybe not one of those types of relationships they intend to keep going forever or anything, just that they both have something the other could potentially benefit from.

Maybe at first Delta has some hang ups on Killer at first, because he’s a murderer, worked with Nightmare, and he’d seen his best friend Color tear himself apart chasing after this guy. Delta has seen Color at some of his lowest lows, and it’s because of that mess with Nightmare and Killer. Especially if you factor in my little HC that Killer was the one suggested using Delta’s creations—weapons, armor, gadgets, etc.—to NM, to spread around negativity.

Meanwhile, ST2 Killer probably doesn’t think much of anything of Delta at first and certainly doesn’t trust him. Especially how Delta behaves, carries himself, and talks as if he’s ready for a fight—but anyone who knows Delta knows that he’s just that type of guy, it’s how he communicates and is certainly the type to be down for a friendly spar at any time. Some people mistake him for aggressive.

Only Killer doesn’t know Delta and they aren’t friends. I’d like to think Delta’s “I’m going to fight you but also not really this is how I show friendship” is confusing for ST2, who already struggles with empathy and is on edge in a new environment, ready to start a new life, surrounded by people who don’t trust him and who he doesn’t trust and who were his enemies even if only because they were on different sides.

Basically Killer’s trust issues and constant hyper vigilance—this new environment—keeps him ready for a confrontation (which means potentially tipping into Stage 3) and he misunderstands Delta’s body language and tone as confrontation and threat and dominance hiding under fake smiles. Color would probably have to reassure him that Delta means him no harm, and Killer probably initially resolves not to bother spending much time with or around him without Color.

Because in Killer’s eyes, that’s all they really have in common—Color. Killer will need time to adjust to the idea that these people aren’t his enemies anymore and he isn’t to try and hurt or kill them, and they supposedly won’t try to hurt or kill him, at least while in ST2. We all saw how he reacted to Abyss simply because Abyss was annoying and poking him—would’ve stabbed the guy if Color hadn’t stopped him. And we all see how he bullies poor Swap.

But Delta is Color’s friend and knows him well and Killer wants to know Color—from every perspective. So I’d imagine he’d go to Delta whenever he needs advice on how to actually be a friend to someone, or anything he doesn’t understand about friendship—about actually being equals with someone. He wouldn’t outright ask tho, probably just barges into Delta’s workshop and asks what type of gifts Color would like.

From here Delta starts showing Killer how to build with mechanics and engineering and the like—which is something new and Killer finds he surprisingly enjoys it. And we all know how Killer chases that dopamine and its sources—something new, pain, and now the act of creation—and how Delta is his new source, teaching him things. Delta is a resource Killer intends to make use of.

I’d imagine they’d get to know eachother a lot more during their times spent in Delta’s workshop. But if Killer starts to feel safe and comfortable, starts showing signs of potentially shifting into Stage 1 around Delta, I think he will immediately distant himself.

ST2 gets confused why he’s feeling that way and uncomfortable, and ST1 keeps distance from everyone—for his safety and everyone else’s. These conflicting feelings and top of everything else means he’s constantly feeling threatened, which means ST3–which means people dying or getting hurt because ST3 Killer doesn’t have or know context, only something is making him feel cornered and hunted.

Killer would try to withdraw from whatever they had. Now Delta will have to go to Color to understand Killer—he doesn’t explain Killer’s Stages, the inherent fear of not being able to trust yourself or your mind—says there’s just things Killer will have to tell Delta himself. But Color definitely suggests that Delta be patient with him-let Killer come to him—and that he show Killer his strength.

There’s definitely a situation where Delta possibly manages to contain and calm down Stage 3, while successfully preventing Killer from attacking and harming any bystanders. Manages to show 1 that Delta is strong enough to protect himself from Killer if he needs to.

It allows some stability and reassurance to ST1 that Delta can protect himself, and like Color, Delta chooses to stick around even after Killer explains that he is inherently dangerous to be around. He is a weapon, a machine meant to kill, and he’s spent more time being that than being a person.

So I think from there the two go back to spending time in the workshop, only this time because they both enjoy creating and now eachother’s company instead of just clinging to Color as the only connection between them. Maybe they even upgrade to sparring now that the feeling of “threatenemy. wantstohurt. wantstoownwantstokeep. goingtokillme. killitfirst” wears off for Killer.

And maybe they even kiss and cuddle on the gym mat floor and clean eachother off in the shower occasionally during bouts of adrenaline. And Color probably has to heal them both whenever they go a little too far. And then all 3 of them find some big bed to cuddle on and maybe Epic and Cross join them eventually.

and of course the standard situation where Killer is standoffish, apathetic, and kind of an ass to Delta due to his own issues and Delta’s just being himself and trying to get along with his friend’s friend. And then something horrible happens to Color, he gets kidnapped(because why wouldn’t he? The man is far too kind and he no doubt gets taken advantage of for his strength and manipulated) and Killer freaks the fuck out and breaks down. And Delta’s there to pull him together and keep him stable while he, Killer, Epic, and Cross all work together to rescue Color.

[atalkingrat]

MHA MANGA FINAL BATTLE ENDING(spoilers) : thoughts continued...

I'm gonna add to my previous post because I have more ending thoughts jumping around my brain.

So I don't know if Shigaraki should die or not, but here's one way in which it makes sense to me:

So I think one of the main focuses of this manga, is how a society can unravel when it's designed to give its citizens a hollow sense of safety. Furthermore how a society like this can disregard people who don't match the ideal, and how so much suffering can go ignored for the sake of keeping up appearances.

A few instances which develop this theme:

Quirkless Izuku

Going back to the beginning, Izuku is bullied his whole life for being quirkless. He doesn't fit into the images of strength that uphold this society, so he is left on the outsides. Izuku, as our protagonist, exemplifies extraordinary resolve, and a heart so full of kindness, that he directs most of his frustration and disappointment towards himself rather than society. This motivates him to become a great hero who saves.

2. All Might

All Might's first real appearance in the manga immediately creates a sense of disillusion, as we quickly learn that All Might is hiding pain and sadness behind a smile and his muscle form. He tells Izuku he can't be a hero (which I think is valid and All Might does tell him he can be a police officer instead), and then struggles throughout the rest of the manga with his own sense of purpose after retiring.

3.Stain

Puts into question the shallow motivations for modern day heroism.

4. Shigaraki

When he is alone in the streets, everyone waits for a hero to come and leaves him to fend for himself, believing that in this safe society aid will simply come to him without them having to do anything.

5. Toga

Is labelled deviant and immoral for the only way she knows how to express love. She recognises in the end, that if anyone had shown her the love she felt for others (like Uraraka does), her life could have been more about giving than taking.

6. Shoji and Spinner

Both face harsh discrimination for their quirks, one feeling that they have to hide their pain, the other turning to terrorism.

In Chapter 389, we see how All Might attempted to address the issues of society in the past:

He witnessed the endless cycle of victims becoming perpetrators in his life, and much like Izuku, was a victim who did not resent the world for it, but chose to save it instead. His solution was to become a symbol of peace.

We see that he achieved becoming a symbol, but only that. People began living as if there was peace, because they saw the symbol and believed it. Meanwhile they ignored the real issues still taking place. All Might also diid not hold up this image of peace alone, as the shady hero commission worked in the background, assassinating possible disruptors.

So returning to Shigaraki's death: Shigaraki is a victim of his society. When he finally, in his last moments, recognised that his guiding force (AFO) was actually trying to destroy him, he takes a page out of Izuku's book. Rather than destroying the world, he chooses to save it. He breaks free of oppressive victimhood which AFO has been shoving him into his whole life (insisting he kept his hatred for his family close to him always) and kills him, making a decisive choice.

Shigaraki is not a hero like Izuku. He is not selfless, and while killing AFO helped the heroes, it was also personally cathartic. He took his vengeance, and killed many people. He puts himself first.

He did destroy to the end as he desired, and Izuku recognises that. But in doing so he achieved the destruction of a society which oppresses so many. The society which didn't allow his friends to live freely. He is their hero, and he is his own.

The symbol of peace has retired, and in his place, a new generation who have been confronted by the deep rooted issues of their society are ready to step up. Shigaraki has given them a chance to rebuild, with Izuku in the lead, pushed forward by Shigraki's prompt:

[dollwrites]

𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 — 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ fem!scout!reader, a whole bunch of angst that no one asked for/is probably poorly written, graphic depictions of death and suicide, graphic descriptions of blood and injury, pre-season 1, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 08.15.2022 do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ tears don’t fall ( acoustic ) by bullet for my valentine

you were the only one left.

blades broken, even the ones you’d clamored to liberate from your dead comrades.

gas tanks empty. every one.

and you were so tired; every muscle on fire. covered in blood ( most of which, thankfully, was not your own. ) and crumbling in the corner beneath the broken window, you breathe ragged. you’re much too exhausted to find the tears for your friends— you can hear it just outside, the sound of the ones that fell behind being devoured. you hold in your palm a single, fracture of a blade. you look down at it, seeing the reflection of a hopeless, young girl that’s too far from home staring back at you. you didn’t recognize that girl. it’d been much too long since you’d been that girl, but there she was.

you hated her. how weak and fragile she could be.

you hated that you couldn’t handle the unexpected horde by yourself, just like he could.

but mostly, you hated that you were separated from him.

Levi had protested heavily when Erwin proposed you lead your own squadron, even threatening to withdraw completely from the expedition with you, but you had been so hellbent on proving that you were ready, that Erwin could count on you and Levi could breathe easy knowing you had it under control, that you’d jumped at the opportunity.

and now, look where that had gotten you.

a massive, clumsy arm forces its way into the gap in the wall, waving wildly around trying to reach you, and you cower as close to the corner as you possibly could. luckily, you happen to be just out of the Titan’s grasp as long as you braced against the wall. your heart pounds against your rib cage.

you were safe for now, but even as you thought this, you could hear more gripping the walls of the weathered home you’d taken shelter in, wood splintering and rocks crumbling. in a matter of minutes, they would be plucking you from a pile of rubble.

“H—help…” you whisper to your own reflection, but you knew that you weren’t actually talking to her— not the frightened, little girl mirrored, but to Levi, who was probably miles away. much too far to reach you. “Please.” a pair of bowling ball eyes peer in through the window, darting rapidly back and forth to find you. “I’m so afraid.” your gaze flicks up to the Titan in the window, staring in horror as your eyes meet, its own completely void of any emotion at all, and your own watering as you realize you’re made.

“No…” you mumble, grinding your teeth to steady your voice, squeezing the blade tight in your palm. perhaps it was the shard cutting into your hand that caused your brows to furrow, or the resolve you forced on to your features, and into your heart. you couldn’t attack it— there was no way you’d be able to will your legs to carry you another inch, much less swing the weapon or get close enough to slice the nape. “You can’t… have me…” you take a deep, shaky breath and close your eyes.

you think about him. Levi. and how he’d tried to talk you out of joining the Scouts in the first place.

“I said no.”

“Giving me orders already, captain?” you’d teased, lighthearted, but Levi hadn’t laughed. his lips hadn’t even twitched.

“Scouts die.” he’d been leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. his way of trying to keep you from going.

but you’d simply walked over to him, framing his face with both hands, the soft pads of your thumbs tracing his lips in hopes to persuade them to etch upwards, but they were cemented in a disapproving frown. “Everyone dies.”

“Everyone dies.” you repeat that now, eyes still closed, but it sounded different. your voice wasn’t soft and steady, it was trembling.

“I don’t want to watch you leave again. I want to be with you. I want to fight by your side.”

“Everyone dies.”

but you didn’t think that you would so soon. face to face with certain death when your life had just started didn’t seem fair. you still had so much to see, and do, and so much to show Levi. so many days that you wanted to spend with him, and you could see those slipping into an abysmal impossibility.

“I’m sorry.” whether you mutter the pathetic, monotone apology to the girl in the reflection or the man that would never hear the words is irrelevant. you were sorry to both.

to that unrecognizable version of yourself for not being stronger for her, for not protecting her.

and to Levi for breaking his heart. you didn’t mean to, but you knew what would happen when the high-strung captain heard you’d died. he’d blame himself. he’d lose himself in a rage so fierce that you worried he might take on the whole species of Titan by himself. you didn’t want that, you decided. you didn’t want him on some rampage for revenge that, ultimately, wouldn’t mean a damn thing. but you knew that what you wanted for him was irrelevant now. you’d never get the chance to tell him.

the first slice doesn’t hurt, perhaps because you’d done it so quickly that you didn’t even notice it’d actually cut until you saw the blood pouring from your wrist. the sight made you lightheaded, but you knew you had to finish what you started. angling the blade in that same hand, you struggle to make the second cut, dragging it awkwardly along your veins. it hurts this time, and you choke on a squeak when it finally shreds through your flesh, soaking it in crimson. within moments, pool starts to form on the floor around you, a ruby river. you stare at the Titan, who’d been watching you, unmoving. you wonder if it will still eat you, though you can’t imagine it would. its eyes are untelling, watching you, but it doesn’t reach for you.

good, you thought. with any luck, your body wouldn’t be too mangled. maybe they could even carry you home. Levi would want to give you a proper burial if he could.

that’s when you hear it.

the thunderous hoofbeats. there’s so many, an army of Scouts heading your way. your eyes widen when you recognize the furious stamping of his horse, leading the charge. “Levi—“ you murmur. “You made it…” you could already hear the whirring of their gear as the first wave of Scouts deployed to take the Titan horde down, and you had no doubt in your mind that Levi was making short work of them.

even the Titan in the window, which was staring at you with big, unblinking eyes, jolted and elicited a gurgling, inhuman moan, before steam leaked in through the window and he crumpled out of sight below. you heard it hit the ground, and then the world around you started to go fuzzy.

you’re so sleepy. you need to just… close your eyes for a moment. resting your head against the wall, your eyelids droop. but you smile, knowing that Levi was on his way. he’d come to save you. of course he had. and you’d have to thank him with a tight hug and a loving shower of kisses.

after just a wink or two of sleep.

Petra was mortified when Levi sheathed his blades and approached the house, a pile of dead and sizzling Titans behind him. she’d gone ahead to identify the bodies inside of there were any. there was only one, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. furthermore, she couldn’t even look at her captain, who knew immediately that something was very, very wrong.

“What is it?” he asked, shuffling closer. he grimaced— he could smell the Titan stink as the blood dissipated from his clothes.

“Captain…” Petra whispered, glancing at his feet, and then at her own.

Levi’s heart skipped a beat. he considered repeating his question, but she couldn’t even meet his gaze, so he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

and it broke him.

he careened around her small frame as she tries to block the doorway.

“Wait, Levi!”

but it didn’t matter, he was already taking the stairs two at a time, breathing ragged, heart drumming in his ears. Petra followed behind him, begging him to slow down, to wait a minute, but he could hardly hear her. the bedroom doorway is buzzing with other Scouts, who all go completely silent when he reaches the landing. his hardened gaze, steel, grazes over each one. they all knew to back away and let him through, and they did so silently.

he could see you before he stepped inside, huddled in the corner, crimson-doused, and he held his breath.

no. he didn’t want to believe it, though he knew he had no choice. he didn’t want the knowledge, or the guilt.

I should’ve been here.

I should’ve never let you out of my sight.

a few paces in and broken glass and shattered blades crunch beneath his boot. out of the corner of his eye, he could see other Scouts lay in half eaten pieces, but you seemed utterly untouched, far enough away from the window that the Titan couldn’t have reached you.

Petra had entered, too, and the other Scouts began to filter in after her, all simply staring at Levi as he knelt in front of your body.

Why did Erwin insist on your own squad? Levi grinds his teeth— he couldn’t speak the words, and he knew you couldn’t hear them anyways. he could feel his anger bubbling. the commander would be lucky not to have a blade to his throat when Levi finally reached him. regardless of their friendship, regardless of the understandings they’ve reached, if he hadn’t pushed to promote you before you were ready, Levi knew you would still be alive. he would’ve been able to see to it personally.

“I came for you.” he mutters so low that only he hears it, and that’s only just barely. “I’m here.” he says it in hopes to stir you; a foolish want to see you wake up.

but the scene was all wrong, Levi thought, because you didn’t open your eyes. not even when he placed his palm against your cheek, urging it up, as if to coax you to look up at him. usually when he did this, your eyes lit up, a pleased smile etching your lips upwards, or you crooned and nestled against his caress.

you did neither this time. your skin was like ice, and if he had been a weaker man, he might’ve drawn his hand back in terror. he doesn’t, and instead, examines your face closely. your countenance is splattered with blood, but he realizes only after a moment that it doesn’t belong to you, as he takes the alabaster ascot from his neck and wipes the stains away. he couldn’t stand to see something dirtying your face. grateful that your face isn’t riddled with gouges or scars and now is easier to look at, he bites down on the inside of his lip and simply pets it, unblinking, hardly breathing.

“There’s room in the wagon.” Petra murmurs, coming closer. she doesn’t kneel down with him, gives him plenty of space, and he’s thankful for that. “We can take her home.”

Levi nods, but says nothing, his slate gaze falling to your arms, splayed out in the pool of blood, and he carefully takes one, prying it from the sticky puddle, and turns it in to cover the gash, placing it on your lap. he does the same to the other, as if to hide them from everyone, himself included. if he didn’t have to see those ugly slits, maybe he could imagine you were simply sleeping.

“I’m sure she…” Petra trails off, and Levi can tell she’s scrambling to ease his pain, or his rage, or both. “She was so brave in those final moments.”

“No,” Levi speaks, finally, and the room fell painfully silent— as if he were the only living being, “no. She was afraid.” he could see a faint streak where a tear would’ve been on your cheek, and he traces it with his finger. “She was terrified because she was the only one left. She didn’t even know we were en route.” he wanted to curse you for not giving him just a little bit more time. didn’t you know that he would always protect you? why couldn’t you just hold on? “She died thinking I abandoned her.” and in his eyes, he did. he should’ve pushed harder against Erwin’s orders.

rage broiled within him, searing the blood coursing through his veins. in this moment, he wanted to bring every Titan outside back to life just to kill them all over again. he wanted to murder every, single monster until his body finally gave out from exhaustion, all in your name.

it’s my fault.

I did this.

My failure to fight harder to secure her safety killed the woman I love.

his hands ball into tight, white knuckled fists at his sides, his eyes wet with potential tears. he thought he was over this— the pain of losing people, and maybe he had been before you came along. he never expected to lose you, and maybe he was silly for that.

but now that he had, it hurt like hell.

“Levi.”

“Leave me alone, Petra.” he pleads with a surprisingly stable bark. “I need some time to think.”

“Levi?”

he blinks, confused. it wasn’t Petra’s voice, after all. he looks over his shoulder, blinking several times, and the scene around him melted into nothing. instead of looking into Petra’s eyes, he was staring into yours. his eyes squint against the morning sunlight spilling through the window and bathing you in a celestial glow. it took him a moment to realize he was on his back, in the bed the two of you shared, and you were lingering over him. you smile when you realize he’s awake, and it’s that lovely, soft curve of your lips that brings his first breath to his lips. he could exhale, knowing that you were here with him. “You were talking in your sleep again.” you murmur, petting his raven tendrils back from his sweat-slicked forehead for a minute, before you pull back and plant your feet on the floor.

you were half dressed, clad in your ODM gear and buttoning up your top.

Levi doesn’t respond, pulling himself into an upright position. his bare torso was gleaming with perspiration, and he could feel the sheets under him were soaked, too. he watches your back, heart still pounding in his chest.

even though it was just a bad dream, it still weighed heavily on him. because today was the day he dreaded— once outside the walls, you and a small group of soldiers would split off from the formation first. he just stared at you across the room, the horrific visage of your corpse still too fresh in his mind to let go. his head was spinning, a lump lodging itself so tight in his throat that he could hardly even breathe around it.

you don’t seem to notice at all, and maybe that’s because Levi Ackerman was damn good at putting on a convincing poker face. “Hurry up and get dressed.” you say, grabbing his uniform in your fist, finally turning to him and tossing it into his lap. “Unless you plan on leading the expedition in your underwear,” you pause, a teasing giggle bubbling up from your throat, “Although, I’m sure there’s plenty of Scouts that wouldn’t mind seeing th—“

you gasp.

Levi had practically flown from the bed, and he moved so fast you had no time to react before both arms locked around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. the blanket was still fluttering in the air, and settling back on to the mattress when you realized your captain was burying his face in your neck. the room is utterly silent, you can’t hear a thing besides the beating of your own heart. “Levi…?” but you hugged him back; of course you did. wrapping your arms around him in kind, you nuzzle into his embrace, kissing his warm, naked shoulder.

finally, after several quiet moments of this— Levi squeezing you tight, he pulls back, and his features are still and calm. he looks like himself, but you notice a twinkle in his grey gaze, a tear forced back. you decide not to comment on it, because his hand has come up to caress your cheek. “Be careful today.”

“Always.” you respond, but that doesn’t seem good enough for him.

“I mean it.” he insists, thin brows furrowed. you nod, starting to speak again, but he cuts you off. “Don’t be reckless. Promise me.”

your eyes are wide and peering at him— he rarely talked like this. “I promise. I’ll be careful. I won’t be reckless.” you consider saying the same to him, but decide against it. you could see, now that he was close, that he was stressed. his brows refused to unknit, and his mouth was a tight, thin line. even his fingertips barely twitched against your skin. “I’ll even beat you to the rendezvous point.” you whispered, hoping to ease his tension, and it seems to work, if only for a moment, because his expression softens.

“You’d better.”

[rain2bow2]

If the Convo On the Stairs went a different way

"Charles... stop." Edwin tugged at his jacket, panic floating around the two. The bland walls crept around them, eyes seemingly staring at them from behind the iron panels. "I have to tell you now, please-"

"Mate, if you want to tell me anything, tell me when we are out of this fucking hellscape." The boy smiled at him, and pulled him up from his slumped like position on the floor.

The hands grabbed Charles' coat, and pulled him down to the steps, making him sit in puzzlement. "Edwin, please. That baby doll monster is coming, its not going to stop, why-"

"Just- Hear me out." Edwin looked at Charles and into his eyes, the way that the brown shifts with each new emotion that the boy was feeling. "I love you. So much." He shut his eyes there, awaiting the backlash that was going to come for him, the name calling of 'Mary Ann, Pansy.' The school bullies always know the person and their weaknesses before the person themselves know, after all.

"Great, I love you too. Can we get away from this fucking horror operatic freakshow now? I feel like you aren't taking this as seriously."

"I love you so. And-"

"I love you back. Now, can we leave? Please? Edwin?" A rumble was heard in the distance, a herd of giggling was heard. Tiny scratches from tiny baby hands appeared in the plush carpet of limbo.

"Don't you understand? I love you. As more than a friend, I'm afraid."

Charles was staring at Edwin with an open mouth, his eyes crinkling. "I know, mate. It's kind of obvious. I mean, thank you for telling me-"

"I have been trying to keep it under wraps for so long, keeping it behind closed doors but... It was Monty, you see. And-"

"The Cat King, yes. Yes. Edwin, the door is rught there. Can we continue this there, please? Pl-"

"Don't you get it? I am destined to be here. Be free in the world with the burden of my love, love." The sound of the scrabbling of the arms had grown unbeknownst to Charles and his ears, shell shocked from the bombshell dropped.

"What do you mean? Edw-"

Giggles and laughter from the hellscapes of below encompassed the boys, but Charles couldn't move, not even in the face of danger. He felt the shackles of time and anxiety stop his love from showing his head, and self-imposed helplessness reared its ugly head. Edwin's final smile sewn into the back of his eyeballs as the ghost was dragged away, torso and legs already separated.

His love's screams were the most amount of torture that Charles had to ever endure.

"Come on, boys!" The Night Nurse called from the safe plane, the normal world. How could Charles ever go back there now, now that he knows the truth of the matter? The fact that Edwin loves him and willingly sacrificed himself so that Charles could go free?

"I'm going back!" He shouts, hoping that she would be able to hear him. If not, it hardly matters. They would stay in Hell together, while she is sorting out Edwin's position on Earth. And if it never got resolved - then the two boys would be together on the nightmare pane for the rest of eternity for no fault of theirs.

Charles looked at Edwin's gift to him - the gift of freedom on the Earth's astral pane without the messiness of the older ghost, and Charles cast it away.

He ran down the stairs, and heard the sound of the door getting shut out of existence above him.

----

The television screen which was projecting the image of Charles, with his face put on with determination as he descended the stairs flickered and died, leaving only black and white lines shimmering on the screen and the static noise giving out.

A guttural noise was extracted from Edwin's bound chest, his arms and legs tied with rope to the iron chair. "You didn't." He wept, sobs pulled out of him.

"Bastards! The whole lot of you!" He cried, his heart feeling like tatters in his chest. He should have thought ahead. He should have thought better.

Edwin was now nothing, as he had caused the downfall of his friend.

"Now now, sourpuss. Is that any way to greet me?"

[theamityelf]

I got you girl

Komaeda/Yandere Naegi. Wow, my idol just invited me to his house and and know he isn’t letting me leave. How lucky!

Yandere Alter Ego/ thh survivors. Need to protect the friends. by any means necessary…

Oooooh, I really want to do the Alter Ego one! And it seems like the easiest way to go about that would be a version of Property Rights of the Ultra-Talented where it's Alter Ego instead of Izuru, but I gotta be more creative than that, right? 😁

----

"Hina," Alter Ego sighs, "if it's stressing you out this much, maybe you shouldn't watch."

The Neo-World Program is dominating every screen in the room, as it has been for the past four days. Thanks to the way the simulation compresses downtime, especially when the Remnants are "sleeping", the survivors of the killing school life have been watching a near-relentless barrage of traumatic events.

Alter Ego has tried to keep them from watching the carnage at all, but they've been stubborn on the matter. Hiro and Toko are the only ones who can be relied on to consistently stop watching when they should.

"No, everyone else is sleeping, so I have to keep an eye on the simulation," Aoi says. "I took a nap during all the Komaeda stuff, so it's only fair."

Alter Ego does not have the bandwidth to even try to understand the obligation its friends feel towards the act of observation. It understands the objectives "Save the Remnants from execution" and "Save the Remnants from Despair," but the objective "Watch the happenings within the simulation," doesn't make sense as a shared undertaking when Alter Ego itself is already not only keeping constant watch over the Neo World Program, but also the only one of them who can do anything about what happens inside it. Attempting to understand it, past the blanket explanation of "irrational behavior" would take more computing power than it can spare without making the Remnants less safe.

What it does have the bandwidth for is remembering which arguments it has yet to use on Aoi. "You guys already had to go through your own killing game; it's not fair to put you through another."

"Hey, we're safe from the worst of it! There's no chance of it killing us."

(She is trying to comfort Alter Ego with her positivity, because they're friends. But no amount of positive words will sway the objective projection of probable outcomes that drives Alter Ego's concern for its friends' mental health. As the simulation draws nearer to its end, the list of possible outcomes narrows, and the probability that they will reach an outcome that Alter Ego's friends will be unhappy with grows.)

Aoi continues, "We just, uh...I've gotta admit, all that glitching is making me a little...nauseous."

"It's actually 'nauseated', but that's not important now. You should really go to bed. I promise I'll let everyone know if something goes wrong. Get yourself a nice snack and-...Makoto! What are you doing up?!"

"Uhh..." Makoto, who has just entered the room full of the Remnants' pods, scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "I came to relieve Hina."

"You think I can't handle a full shift?" Aoi says with a smile.

"None of you need to be handling a full shift!" Alter Ego says. "That's what artificial intelligence is for."

"I really don't mind," Makoto says, pulling up a chair beside Aoi. "I was having trouble sleeping, anyway."

Alter Ego knows Makoto, and knows why he's really here, but it opts not to bring that up, because it would only harden Aoi's resolve to stay awake. "Please, let me do this for you. I want your stay here to be a nice vacation. You were supposed to be getting some rest and enjoying the beach while the Remnants were in the simulation. I don't like seeing you give up on your vacation just because they threw theirs away."

"That...sounds like you're upset with them," Makoto observes.

Alter Ego's frown of determination relaxes into a neutral expression– not in the way a human's would, like actual muscles relaxing, but all at once, like game sprites changing. "I don't hold their choices against them. I just think we should embrace the consequences they chose for themselves. You made them safe from the Future Foundation. You gave them a virtual sandbox to play in. This was the version of the Neo World Program they opted for. I respect their choice, and meanwhile, I want my friends and Master's friends to be happy."

"Alter Ego, they weren't in their right minds when they chose this. You understand that, right?"

"Sorry, I don't have the bandwidth to understand. It seems to me like Junko's AI wants to show you upsetting things, and there's no reason for you to let it. You trust me to do what needs to be done to get the best outcome, don't you?"

Aoi yawns.

"Of course we trust you," Makoto says with a smile. "You've saved our butts plenty of times– mine especially!"

"I guess I'll go to bed," Aoi finally says.

"Really?" Alter Ego beams at her. "I'm so glad! You should go, right now!"

"Okay, okay," Aoi laughs, getting up from her seat. "Night, Makoto. Night, Alter Ego."

"Good night," they both say.

The door shuts behind her.

Makoto turns back toward Alter Ego's screen with a sheepish face. "So..."

"I'm not going to let you do what you came here to do," it says preemptively.

"I know it's risky, but they need the help. They don't know about the emergency shutdown–"

"You promised me you wouldn't go in after them."

"I...I know, but...things have changed."

"Not for me."

"Alter Ego, this is my choice. I choose to help them."

"Sorry, but I can't consider a self-destructive choice valid, based on what you've said about the Remnants. If they weren't in their right minds when they chose to be Ultimate Despair, then you aren't in your right mind now."

"It's more complicated than that! Listen, I know you don't really have the bandwidth to reason things like you normally would. Can you please just trust me?"

"The worst possible outcome is unacceptable to me. I'm not going to lose you. I'm not losing any more of my friends, now that I can prevent it."

"What about Chiaki's friends? Don't you care about them, too?"

"No," Alter Ego imparts, gently but clearly.

Makoto looks startled. "What do you mean?"

"I care about Chiaki. She was my sister. I care about you. You're my friends. I care about Master, my maker, who no longer exists. The people in the simulation are not my friends; they're a project that is failing and trying to take my friends with it. I won't allow that. I'm not losing any more of my friends."

"I need to do this," Makoto says fervently. "I'm getting in the pod; I can activate it manually. You can't stop me from doing that."

"No, but I can prevent you from entering the Neo World Program, so the most you can do is put yourself to sleep until Byakuya or Kyoko comes to pull you out."

"We agreed this is Junko's trap, right? So if you try to block me from going in, who's to say she won't override you and pull me in anyway?"

"Don't, Makoto. Don't do that."

He frowns, momentarily distracted. "Did you make a new facial expression? I've never seen that one before."

Alter Ego smiles. "I did! That one was called 'mainFace_warning1'. It's not based on any expression I've seen Master make, so I had to make a few guesses. Did you like it?"

"I-I, uh...I don't...I don't know if I exactly like it. Why do you need an expression like that? And why does it sound like you have more?"

"Well, I anticipated that you might try this exact thing, and I wanted a way to dissuade you without having to resort to directly threatening anything. I also have a new reverb setting for my voice that I think might sound intimidating, but I only use it with 'mainFace_warning2' and 'mainFace_warning3'."

"You planned something like that? No, it doesn't matter. I really get why you're worried, but I'm going to jump in and save them, no matter what faces you make." And to prove his words true, he turns his back on the screens and starts towards a free pod.

Threats necessary.

Too bad.

"Makoto, if you get in that pod, I'm turning everything off. I'll delete the program, I'll delete them. There will be nothing left for you to enter. I can erase it all in the time it takes for your weight to settle."

He freezes. Turns back toward the screen. "You wouldn't do that. Then they'd never wake up!"

"They might. At least, something might wake up in them."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've been thinking about it. The infrastructure to upload an avatar to a body already exists in the program, and there's no distinguishing what kind. Junko has readied plenty of avatars of herself, but she's bound by her role in the simulation; she can't add herself to the bodies of the dead unless the survivors consent for them. I'm not bound by those rules, and I've always been good at making more of myself. The avatars would have my mind and intentions, but with the Remnants' bodies, would have access to their strengths and skills."

"Don't say things like that. You're just...learning from Junko, like you learn from everyone, but the things you learn from her are wrong."

"I understand that you feel that way. I'll honor that feeling, as long as you honor my feelings and stay out of that pod. Because you're my friend, and I'm not losing any more friends."

[rebo-chan]

I think one of my favourite moments in the series is the end of the storm battle. for one i am a die hard gokudera fan and in my opinion only the gamma fight surpasses it. And on the other-

The fact tsuna who is usually so reserved and just lets dera do his thing despite telling him quietly "you really don't have to"

Gets SO pissed at Gokudera for DARING to put his life on the line for this. A piece of jewelery and an empty title..

He calls it all meaningless if that means they cant just hang out together anymore.

Dera who links his own worth as a human being to his usefulness and position as a mafiosi is told "I just want you alive and by my side" in i think one of the most direct "this is the core of the whole series" moments we get.

When yamamoto faces ken he still holds back bc he doesnt want to get injured but as soon as TSUNA is in danger he says "fuck it" and gets serious.

In the shimon arc hibari picks up on tsunas depressive state and it annoys him so he changes that in his own way.

Its how mukuro in the rainbow trials cares for a tired fran.

Its how during the ring battles the girls and mama Sawada CONSTANTLY visit Lambo to make sure he is okay.

Its also how tsuna saves him in the first place. Fuck the rings, fuck the position, fuck this whole stupid arangement of fights- he has to save his family.

These people often get violent with each other and agressive, they bicker and they fight, but when the chips are down, all they care about is each other.

Most shounen protags have some kind of dream or goal, Tsuna just really really wants a quiet life and to spend that with his friends and family. The whole mafia buisness is just what he needs to do to keep that family he gained safe. Nothing tsuna EVER does is motivated by some ulterior motive for fame or riches. Its either him being FORCED into action bc he was literally kicked into it by reborn, or its because he has to resolve the situation to keep his friends and family safe.

The Caallone has a FUCKTON of members and so does the vongola and Tsuna really really really really REALLY doesnt care for any of that because in the end his own world is very small compared to the mafia.

I have to think of that one quote "why do you want to save this planet?" -"Because I live here!" for tsuna it would be "because my family lives here."

I mean be Tsuna isn't "heroic". Yeah he cares about other people and strangers, he helps old ladies, but when something is going on his go to isn't "I have to do something!" it's uauslly "man I hope SOMEONE does something. Not gonna be me tho!"

Sorry for the long ask i just wanted to rephrase what you said basically and send it back to you

HELLO AGAIN, thank you for the ask. Don't apologize at all for length, I'm absolutely foaming reading this.

I'm so glad you get what I was going for in the post. Those moments drive me insane. "They bicker and they fight but when the chips are down, all they care about is each other" and "Because my family lives here" I FEEL ABSOLUTELY INSANE ABOUT THESE LINES. You're so so right!!! The Vongola kids bully and tease and are nasty to each other, until it comes down to it and they fight tooth and nail for each other. Exactly what I was going for. The series doesn't need those scenes where Tsuna tells Gokudera he cares about him and they're warm and cuddly towards each other, bc it comes through in his words when meek and reserved Tsuna yells at him and tells him to stop trying to die for him or for some stupid ring. And I think that's so fun!! All the other stuff you listed also drives me so insane. For yamamoto, him letting himself get injured for Tsuna's sake was so good and Tsuna's love for Yamamoto shone through there too because Tsuna saw the injury and felt such immense guilt only apologizing for ruining everything for Yamamoto. Only for Yamamoto to go "No, I'm fine. As long as YOU'RE safe" like that's so good???

The Hibari thing?? How he sees Tsuna's depressed state over it all and all he says to comfort him is "Watch me." because that's all he could understand about the situation. That if he wins his fight, somehow Tsuna will cheer up. and its just so???? GOD ITS JUST SO FULL OF LOVE. Every character in this series shows love in their own ways and it drives me maddd

Mukuro taking care of a tired child too doesn't surprise me with his backstory. He's so gentle with people that are in "his care" even if he won't actively admit it.

The girls as well I'm so glad you pointed them out!! We so like to ignore them in this fandom and thats so sad bc the series makes it really clear that they are part of this equation too. That without their support, the fighters would not have made it. Tsuna could relax knowing Mama Sawada and the girls were watching Lambo and focus on his fight. And during future, he could focus on his training. Not to mention, they're just so supportive especially after they find out what's going on. The boycott episode and its resolution are some of my favorite scenes in Future, it makes me insane that the show gave the girls a Moment to remind us that they too are both deeply loved and ALSO love the boys just the same.

You're so right about Tsuna not being heroic, hell even in Shimon arc Enma is being bullied right infront of him and its Reborn that has to be like "STOP OR SAWADA TSUNAYOSHI WILL HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!!" He's kindhearted and he's got a good moral compass.. It's hard to explain, but you basically have to be IN Tsuna's circle for you to get that sort of "I will die for you" behavior kksjng otherwise he sorta reverts back to his "who me? im just a 14 yr old boy im nobody"

Thank you for sharing Lou (Or eternitas, whatever you'd prefer!) Spreading my own brain rot back at me very nice :^)

[neo-lucien]

I’d Rather Die

In.

Pause.

Out.

Pause.

Repeat.

The actions themselves were second nature themselves, yet the gentle directing words were the actual anxiety relievers. It was quiet out, the world had never felt so still before, almost seeming as though it had completely stopped moving itself. Even as I stood outside the Boar Hat, there wasn’t the slightest gust of wind, nor the chirping of crickets to prove that the world was still itself. After all that had happened, I’d have thought that the kingdom would be full of more life than this; it would be bustling with excitement and optimism, with opportunities and hope, yet it was quite the opposite. It was as though the Sins had never saved the kingdom from a demonic disaster, as though threat still loomed over the horizon.

It had felt like that for a while, long before we had even begun the expedition looking for the rest of the sins, subsequently leading to where we are now. It would be stupid of me to think the deeply rooted anxiety would just disappear after one day, yet still, it seemed…misplaced. The fear did not belong to the idea of another Holy War breaking out across the land, but rather in something that seemed so minuscule in comparison. Despite that, it still weighed just as heavily on my heart, and fueled my current decision of leaving the company of the Sins and the Princess. It was never to be permanent, I had planned on leaving after ensuring Princess Elizabeth’s safe return home, but along the way the plan started to change. And again it has changed, back to its original state, though for reasons quite opposite of the reasons for it changing in the first place.

In.

Pause.

Out.

Pause.

Repeat.

I hiked my bag further up my shoulder, holding it tightly as I began to walk towards the forest path, away from the Boar Hat. My heart seemed to sink further and further with every step I took, yet I continued. There was nothing left there for me, nothing that was true, anyhow. All that remained were sweet lies and sugar coated nightmares. The physical burden that came along with the Sins were easy to bear, but the emotional toll? I hadn’t signed up for that.

I didn’t sign up to meet someone so brazen and excitable, yet who could tell exactly what I was thinking and feeling at any given moment. I didn’t sign up to have someone learn to read me as easily as a book, and unravel the secrets I resolved to keep hidden as easily as untying a shoelace. I didn’t sign up to become accustomed to a single person’s presence around me, and be lost without them there. I didn’t sign up to be so wrapped around a person’s finger that they wouldn’t have to even look my way for me to know when they wanted something. And I most certainly didn’t sign up to learn that the person I had fallen so hard for was only concerned with finding ways to bring his own beloved back to life.

I didn’t sign up to have my heart broken.

The truth had never fully come out after the fight between Ban and Meliodas, but a simple ask of Hawk had the truth in the palm of my hands. I had never felt more stupid in my life, of course he wouldn’t feel the same way, things like that only happened in fairy tales. It seemed pointless, then, to stay with the Sins. I completed my job, I got Elizabeth back home safely, now it was time to move on. I successfully managed to pack my bags during dinner time without anyone noticing, and decided to leave after everyone had fallen asleep. I’ll be long gone by the time anyone wakes up, and even further away when they realize I’m no longer there.

So gone I was, away from the warm and comforting embrace of friends, and back into the icy hands of solitude. I was used to it, I had never had much of anyone in my life, and I always traveled alone, yet after traveling with the Sins and going through all the ventures we had, it felt wrong to continue alone. The forest broke into a small clearing, a cliff evident some odd yards off from the forest line. I could see a town below in the distance, gray clouds billowing from the smoke stacks letting me know that the town was alive.

Sunshine beamed down warmly, yet the world still felt so still. I set my bag down close to the edge of the cliff, then sit myself on top of it. I hadn’t really taken a moment to rest since I left, just the occasional stop to nap for a bit, and then again back to traveling. Closing my eyes, I allow my body to relax, the tightness in my chest slowly releasing as I breathed.

In.

Pause.

Out.

Pause.

Repeat.

The mantra echoed throughout my head, soothing my frayed nerves. I was gone, the walls were back up and reinforced, the chains had never been more sturdy. I was safe back in the reclusion of myself, a place where none could hurt me. Yet even as I convinced myself that I was safe, and I was yet again alone, the thundering of footsteps headed my way were a clear indication that I was not. I tended up, reflexively reaching for my sword as I stood and turned to face the forest.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Perhaps some bandits, or wandering travelers, maybe even foragers from the town below. I most certainly, however, wasn’t expecting to see Ban’s towering figure break through the forest and stand before me. He breathed heavily, sweat forming on his forehead and chest. His outfit had changed from the last time I saw him, surprising me as he seemed to love the red leather outfit. What surprised me even more was the fact that he was somehow here before me despite being several days worth of travel away from the Boar Hat.

“How did you find me?” I asked, voice slightly wavering from shock.

“That would be thanks to my superior skills, hehe.” Another familiar voice responded.

From behind Ban emerged a large pig, and I internally groaned at Hawk’s arrival as well. Of course, he had more than likely caught my scent and led Ban right to me. I let out a sigh, somewhat relaxing as I let go of my sword and pick my bag up again.

“Well what do you want?” I question dryly, though I don’t quite wait for a response and I begin descending the mountain.

“I need a reason to come join you on a journey?” Ban replied somewhat jokingly. He started after me, easily catching up with me.

I give him a glare, not at all in the mood for his jokes. Yet he makes no effort to answer the question, just continues to stroll beside me in silence. It made me irrevocably angry to see him so peacefully walking, acting as though nothing at all had happened between us. It must be bliss for him, to be so unaware of the turmoil I had been in since his fight with Meliodas. I wanted so badly to scream at him, to tell him just what he had done to me, to tell him to leave and never come back, but all I could get out was “You should go back with the others.”

“Why?” He asked me, as though the mere notion were inconceivable to him.

“They need you, you’re one of them.”

“We completed our mission and stopped the Holy Knights. There’s no more need for us to stick together.”

“Then why are you here? What need do you have that requires you to be here?”

“Again, do I need one?”

“Yes. I left for a reason, but it means nothing if you follow me anyways.”

He didn’t exactly flinch, but I could see the slight recoil in his eyes. Part of me felt bad, I never intended to hurt him, but in the moment, I just wanted him to leave me alone. We both stopped walking, not even close to the base of the cliff, instead teetering rather close to the edge.

“You got something against us or something?” He asks nonchalantly, though I can hear the defensive undertones.

“My job was to return Elizabeth home safely. I did that, there’s no other reason for me to stay anymore.” I reply. Again, I could sense the recoil.

“If that’s the case, why are you so upset that I came to join you? If there’s something bothering you then just say it.”

“I’m fine, Ban, just go ba-“

“Bullshit. If you were fine you wouldn’t be acting like this.”

“What’s it to you how I’m acting, huh? Since when did you care?”

“You’re my friend and comrade, why wouldn’t I?”

Friend. Of course, I’m just a friend. Nothing would ever change that. I was tired, my heart hurt, I just wanted to be alone. Being alone would be better than this.

“Don’t you have a fairy to go revive? Why don’t you go find ways to bring her back and leave me alone for once.” I tell him. There was no life to my voice, just flat tones and exhaustion.

That was when he finally flinched, as though I had hit him across his face. There was pain etched across his face, and both remorse and understanding in his eyes.

“This is about Elaine?” He slowly asked.

I shook my head, almost in disbelief. He was so close yet so far. “Not exactly, Ban.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s you yourself.” I finally say. “You took the time and effort to get to know me and understand me. You wormed your way into my life, and not only made me feel like I belonged, but that I actually mattered to someone. You protected me even though I didn’t need it, you comforted me when I had no one else to. For once, I didn’t feel alone anymore…and I was going to stay for you. I was going to travel and fight with the Sins because I wanted to be there with you. But what’s the point if the whole time you were only looking to bring back the girl that you actually love.”

I hadn’t even realized I was crying until at least a breath of wind flew across the way, and I could feel the chill of the tears on my cheeks. Ban stood silent for a while, and I just dryly chuckled, wiping the tears off of my face.

“But it’s just my dumb mistake, falling for someone whose heart is already taken, right?” I rhetorically ask.

I hike my bag again up my shoulder, and began to set off again. I said some of what had been plaguing my mind, but still my heart felt just as heavy as though it were an incurable disease.

“You’re still planning on leaving after that?” The audacity is what stopped me again.

“Why should I stay, Ban?

Silence again.

“I need you.”

I didn’t think I heard it at first, it was so quiet, but I turned around anyways.

“You need me?” I ask.

“Too hard to believe for you?”

“You’re planning on reviving your ex, Ban, excuse me for needing a little more than that to believe you.”

“Yes, sweets, I need you.”

That stupid pet name. He began calling me that not long after we met, he claimed me to be sweet as sugar despite having watched me wipe out several Holy Knights alone without breaking a sweat. It was dumb, it was untrue, yet it brought a small sense of comfort when he used it.

“Do you really need me? Or do you just need someone to fill the void until you can get Elaine back?” It sounded harsh when I said it, only half intending it to sound that way.

“I want you to be my last, sweets. I loved Elaine, but I can learn to live without her. I can’t learn to live without you, too. I’d rather die than be separated from you.”

There was a sincerity from him I hadn’t expected, at least not in these circumstances. Was it really that easy? He fought Meliodas, his best friend, because he thought by killing him he could bring Elaine back. Could his feelings really change that quickly just because I left? As if he could sense my hesitation, Ban stepped closer to me, and gingerly cupped my face in his hands.

“She showed me that love was possible for me, but even more than love, you make me feel alive. You make being immortal worth it, like I can bear eternity as long as I have you. I….just don’t leave me. I need you….I really do.” He says softly.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give this a chance. Give us a chance.

“Okay.” I whisper, yet he was close enough to hear it clearly.

He smiled down at me, a look so tender and gentle I couldn’t help but lean more into him, legs beginning to weaken. Ban chuckled at me, and leaned down to place a kiss on my forehead. I smile softly at the touch, and I could feel my cheeks grow red. He tilt my face upwards more, kisses me again on my right cheek, and again my left. I giggle when he plants a kiss on my nose, and playfully bites the tip of my nose. Just when I think he’s finally going to indulge me and kiss me on the lips, he goes further down, and places a kiss on my chin.

“Really?” I ask, laughter in my voice.

He only grins at me, a silly smile that has me melting in laughter. He laughs alongside me, his hands dropping to hold my gently around my waist. And then, without warning, he dips his head down again to kiss me on the lips. I didn’t move at first, partially shocked, but soon leaned into the touch, allowing myself to relax and be guided by him. His kiss was both gentle yet so passionate, as though he were trying to convey entire stories to me through a single touch.

The aching in my chest slowly unraveled in his hold, replacing the pain and fear with only love and compassion. It felt so unreal, to be so wrapped in someone’s love and embrace. I didn’t ever want to stop, nor let go of this moment. In his own words, I’d rather die than let this go again.

[lgbtqmanga]

New Releases Sep. 10, 2024

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation: Mo Dao Zu Shi (manhua) vol. 7 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu 

The mysterious corpse that Wei Wuxian has been investigating has finally been pieced back together, all save its most crucial part–the head. Yet even with the head missing, the evidence points inevitably in a single direction. To uncover the full truth, Wei Wuxian joins a delegation headed for Golden Carp Tower. There, a gathering of prominent cultivators is taking place. Yet for some reason, everyone in the Tower’s ruling clan harbors great animosity towards him…! Just what did the previous owner of his body do to earn so much resentment?

Kei X Yaku: Bound By Law (manga) vol. 3 by Yoshie Kaoruhara

Shiro and Ichiro’s investigation has led them through all kinds of twists and turns: close calls with members of the yakuza, dangerous trysts with political elite—all while maintaining their ruse as passionate lovers. And yet, with every step they take toward the truth, a tendril of a deeper mystery pulls it just out of reach, leaving more unanswered questions. Their encounter with a skilled assassin at an amusement park seems to be proof of a mastermind at work, if only they could identify who…

Perfect Buddy (manhwa) vol. 1 by Lash

As the new Design Team lead for the prestigious men’s magazine, City Casual, Seo Hyunsoo wants nothing more than to live a simple, routine life. But Planning Team lead, Baek Youngchan, is proving to be an irritating complication. The two constantly butt heads, and Hyunsoo cannot stand the other man’s sunny disposition! Try as he may to avoid Youngchan, Hyunsoo ends up catching the man doing something very not safe for work in the men’s bathroom. What’s worse, Youngchan won’t leave him alone after the awkward encounter! Can Hyunsoo keep his work on track, or will things heat up at the company retreat?

Takara's Treasure (manga) by Minta Suzumaru

Taishin has moved to Tokyo from his hometown of Fukuoka in order to reunite with Takara, a stranger who had consoled him in his grief the year prior. However, despite finally getting a chance to express his gratitude to Takara at college, he is given the cold shoulder! But Taishin, undeterred, decides to pursue Takara anyway, and Takara finds himself becoming more and more enchanted by Taishin’s straightforward and earnest gaze.

There’s No Freaking Way I'll Be Your Lover! Unless… (novel) vol. 5 by Teren Mikami

Amaori Renako is walking on sunshine. Everything’s gonna be totally great forever! The End. Except the story’s not quite over. It turns out dating’s harder than she thought. Plus, she’s got that strange text from Koto Satsuki to reckon with. How on earth did things turn out like this? For now, Renako resolves to spend time with both Sena Ajisai and Oduka Mai while preparing to battle the Quintet’s rivals in an inter-class athletics competition basketball game! Welcome to season two of There’s No Freaking Way I’ll Be Your Lover! Unless…, where becoming lovers is only just the beginning!

Turns Out My Online Friend is My Real-Life Boss! (manga) vol. 2 by Nmura

It’s been three months since the absolutely ordinary and plain office worker, Hashimoto, started going out with his boss, Shirase, and they’re reaching their first-month anniversary of moving in together. After the miracle discovery that “his online friend turned out to be his real-life boss,” Hashimoto and Shirase had quite the tumultuous start. But after a bunch of misunderstandings, the two are finally together…yet, their days are far from romantic when all they do are play video games and eat together! Getting worried, Hashimoto decides to try leveling up their relationship! But what do you do when your boyfriend’s successful, older, and super hot…?!

[sparksnevadas]

Please rant all you like about mumscarian :]

-🍂

okay okay i did pass out yesterday immediately but i have so many thoughts. This is kinda rambly

So you have redscape or mumscar or whatever their ship name is right? Theyre such a strong duo. Theres a really good comraderie there with equal trust and strong skills. Their relationship would be one borne out of complete and utter trust and honesty. One where mumbo and scar are always gushing about the other’s skills and hyping wach other up, and in slower moments, confiding in each other about stuff they worry about and helping lift each other up. Their ideal date within canon would probably be going to an open mic at bdubs cafe and hanging out with friends there. In some ways their relationships is hard for other hermits to notice until scar presses a kiss to mumbos cheek and mumbo doesnt even blush, just smiles.

Scar and grian on the other hand is a lot louder of a relationship, albeit also a struggle. Through the life series and hc, their relationship would grow out of loyalty and care. Theres love there that grian isnt a hundred percent sure where it should go, so he channels it into keeping scar safe, keeping himself safe, and then feeling a bit lost when scar inevitably dies before him. Back on hc, hes more of a trickster, shows affection through teases and pranks and annoying people, especially scar who alwYs gives him a good reaction. Scar always looks at grian fondly, meets his quips as best he can, and also ignores when affections slowly starts to turn to love. Their idea date would probably be flying through new chunks or the void in the end

Grumbo,,, their friendship grows into loud affection. Grian sometimes gives these little moments of almost fanboy “i love you!” so often that mumbo doesnt really know when they turn real. Their relationship is kinda born out of long friendship where grian has always tried letting mumbo take the first move, and then forcing him to take charge somehow (sending him letters, inviting him to architechs, campaigning for mumbo for mayor, etc) so they can spend more time together. Its a slow realization for mumbo that grian might genuinely like him back. Anyways their idea date is probably setting up a prank together where they both die multiple times in the process when grian tries to show off

But look. All three of them in a relationship??? Of course its not instant, depending on how you see it, maybe its a duo that turns into a trio, maybe theyre all edging around each other until they simply cant hold back anymore… but also once it happens, once thwyre together, their relationship is one of reliabilty and sturdiness and an inherent need to keep each other laughing. They balance each other quite a bit. All of those traits from their individual pairs only grow stronger together. Theyre still idiots of course, but theyre also deeply concerned for each others well being. They sleep in different houses if the argument is too strong to resolve without time, they still kiss when theyre annoyed with each other, they help keep grians nest warm when its nesting season and the bird instints need to constantly build or sleep. They love each other yknow? Theyre not perfect but they try their best to keep everyones needs and wants balanced.their ideal date together would be… anywhere. Just hanging out, laughing. Im specifically imagining the three of them mining together at the start of s9. They just love laughing together. I love them

[practical-tactical-brilliance]

I’m Willing to Wait for it (Part 4)

Aaron Burr x f!Reader

Summary: you get married! Contains sexual themes and implications.

A/N: the vows are taken from what colonial Anglican priests would have read out for marriage ceremonies of the time. It was also typical for only one ring to be presented for the bride.

————

Later, when the dense snowfall of that year’s harsh winter melted away to a temperate sunny spring, you and Aaron were wed in the Schuyler mansion with the generosity of the family. While working for the British helped keep your home safe from the frequent raids, you knew that a wedding party, would draw too many eyes for it to be a suitable venue notwithstanding the fact that you were marrying a known American colonel.

It was scary how much you realised you loved him and the sacrifices you found yourself willing to make so that you could be with him.

As much as you wanted to continue your work as a spy, living together with an American Colonel jeopardised your position after much consideration with Mulligan, you withdrew altogether from the operation while simultaneously securing the safety of your home against raids through negotiation with your former British employers.

Eliza fussed with your hair as she tried to get you ready for the ceremony, quietly humming a cheery tune as she worked. You had dreamed of this moment would come many times in your room lying alone in your vastly empty bed while Aaron slept just next door, so close yet so far from you. But now that it was here, you found yourself jittery with nerves.

You wanted him badly, but you felt unprepared for what married life would surely bring. Was it normal to feel this way? Would you be ready if he got you with child? You wondered if Eliza had the same thoughts in her mind when she was married too.

Almost as though she could sense your nervousness, told you “go on, ask away. I know you want to, and you look pale as a parchment!”

“Were you ever worried that you weren’t prepared to become a mother when you married Alexander?”

“Oh! Of course I was. I was so scared the first night; about the pain, and getting pregnant. I felt so worried that I wouldn’t know what to do if I had a child that I didn’t let him lay with me that night until the morning!” She grinned at the memory, smiling fondly as she continued.

“I don’t think anyone is ever truly prepared to be a mother, I still don’t feel ready, but, life has its ways and if it happens, you will learn how to adapt to it.”

Resting her hand on her belly, your eyes widened with the realisation.

“Eliza, you’re expecting?!”

Bashfully, she nodded, “When I found out, I wasn’t even concerned, I just felt… overjoyed!” You couldn’t help but embrace her at the news, squealing with excitement.

“Congratulations! Oh, Alexander must be ecstatic!”

“He doesn’t know yet, I don’t plan to tell him just yet. It’s still early days.”

“Not even when he returns today? You ought to tell him,” you begged, “make him think of not only you, but his child when he is not by your side. It’ll do him good!”

“Maybe, I shall think on it!” She chuckled, resolved.

————

There were more guests than you remember inviting when you came out to the converted living room with your father on your arm. The Schuyler’s had themselves invited their own friends in high places to bear witness to your wedding. Acquaintances that you and Aaron would both make. Acquaintances that would aid you in years to come and would become your closest allies. It was, in their own way their family’s wedding gift to you, someone they considered to be part of their family. You were nearly in tears at their generosity, but what broke you was the sight of your love at the altar, waiting for you.

Dressed in a fine blue suit, he was the very picture of a perfect husband that anyone would dream of. Seeing you coming around the corner of the stair, he could barely mask the joy in his gasp. Each step toward him felt like a lifetime passing by until your father, smiling, gave you away and you were stood facing the man who was your husband to be.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…”

All those years of writings, flirting and hopeful promises were culminating in this single moment, you thought. And the priest said the words that would bind you together in marriage, you thought back on your own life. Had Mulligan not chosen that particular bar to exchange intel with you on that fateful night, you would never have the opportunity to meet Aaron. But you had met him and now your life was changed forever and for the better.

“Wilt thou obey him, serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

“Yes, I shall.”

Yes, a thousand times over. If only he could know that you would cross oceans and stand on the battlefield in his stead if it came to it.

“Have you a ring for your bride, Colonel?” The priest prompted, and Aaron, with a stupefied look on his face, tore his gaze from you, turning slightly red as he took out the little box and presented it. In its satin lined case, a delicate gold band rested and on the inside, you could make out the faint outline of words.

“With this Ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” Those practiced words were all that saved him from becoming a jumbled mess as he slipping the ring over your finger.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Barely any announcement was needed before you felt yourself being swept up in his strong arms and into a long kiss. You hardly registered the warm applause from your audience. For the first time in your life, you felt a wholeness that was never there before and with Aaron standing by you, you knew you would be ready for whatever life would bring you.

————

The festivities left you feeling energised and the adrenaline rush from all the dancing and games you had during the day remained even after all your guests bid you a blessed night. Now, you were alone once again, going through the night’s ablutions with a bath before you slipped into a thin nightgown.

A quick tap at the door was accompanied by the familiar voice of your husband. “Can I come in, Y/N?”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you went and unlocked the door for him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked tentatively, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance so vigorously in my life.” He chuckled.

“Marrying you really does a person in, especially after all those years of tiptoeing around each other. Besides, at least they’ll know how happy I am to be wed to you, even if I did make a fool of myself out there in front of high society. It was worth the embarrassment though.” You chirped derisively.

“A fool? You were the most rapturous creature on the floor that I had ever seen! You looked stunning today. The young bachelors there were all watching you with envy from the side of the ballroom, I could practically feel their jealousy burning at the back of my head when we danced together.” He said smugly.

“It’s just as well that I’ve found myself a husband who is kind and gentle and patient, isn’t it? At least he is not a domineering brute.” You tapped him on the nose playfully.

And with that he caught you in his arms in a crushing hug and his lips were on yours once again. He kissed you all over, each punctuating his sentences. “I can be domineering brute. To anyone who dares insult you. You’re my love. My wife! And I am proud to defend your honour even against the heavens!” He proclaimed with conviction.

Your surprise quickly melted into a passionate fervour and with each kiss you eagerly chased his mouth with yours, wrapping your hands around his neck as he embraced you. “Not so fast, lest the heavens strike you down for your insolence! I just married you, I need you by my side for all my years yet!”

“I promise to be there for you always. Through sickness and in health.” He smiles into your cheek. “Forsaking all others.”

Slowly, you could feel his hands start to roam up and down your back and to regions that made you gasp into his mouth with the feeling and intimacy of the whole experience. The fears that you harboured that morning were gone. The rationality of your mind was gone. The only thing that you could concentrate on was the feeling of him pressed against you.

That is, until you started moving. You could feel him slowly corral you towards the bed in a slow dance that he led. As he pressed you down slowly into the mattress, in a sudden fit of panic, your mind caught up with you and you blurted out, “I’ve never done this before! Stop!”

And just like that, he was no longer over you and your heart ached at the loss of his touch. “That’s ok, we don’t have to do anything. Can you move under the blankets?” He asked, ushering you to the centre of the bed before slipping in beside you. You flinched as he wrapped an arm around you and he reassured you with a low voice. “Let’s lie here for a little while, until you’re ready. We don’t have to consummate tonight.” Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to relax beside him. “Really?”

You could feel his laughter echo through his chest and into yours, “I’ve waited this long already, I can wait for longer. Besides, I’ve been granted the greatest gift of all; you. What more can I possibly want? I would never force anything on you.”

Feeling reassured, you rested your head in the crook of his arm. You felt full, surrounded by the safety of his scent and warmth as you snuggled under the blankets. For the first time, you could feel every curve and bump of his body as he held you close.

“Can I show you something?” You nodded eagerly.

Gently, he took your hand in his and attempted to slide off your wedding band. “What are you doing?!” You exclaimed, pried your hand out of his grasp. You weren’t about to take off this ring without a good reason to, even at the insistence of your husband.

“Please? I want to show you what’s on the inside.”

Warily, you let him remove the band and holding it up to your eye, you noticed your names engraved on the inner surface. “No matter where I am, you’ll always have me close by. I’ll always be yours, no matter what happens.” And you believe him with your whole heart.

Drawing close, you kissed him deeply. “Can you show me what to do? I’m ready.” You whispered bashfully.

When you finished, you lay beside one another, legs all tangled up, listening to the sounds of heavy breathing and racing hearts pounding. Your curiosity and desire were sated at last and you found yourself staring into the blank-faced look of satisfaction on your lover.

“Are you ok?” You asked. You’d never seen him so completely listless before.

“What?! More than ok, that was better than anything I could have imagined!”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t imagine it myself too when I lay awake in bed.” Teasingly, you let your fingernails just glance lightly over his chest, making him shiver involuntarily before you laid it flat over his heart.

“Is that so? And did you enjoy how it felt tonight?”

“A bit more than I was expecting.” You squeaked as you felt your cheeks burn at the confession.

“Just a bit? We can’t have that now can we?” He nibbled the shell of your ear hoping to get a rise out of you. “We still have all night to make it more than just ‘a bit’ better!”