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romana-after-dark · 1 year

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The Wrong Way: Chapter 2

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Masterlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also refered to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

Please make sure you read the warnings, this chapter will have some of the most intense stuff of this fic!

You woke up with a start, scrambling on the dirty mattress to sit up. It was Tommy, not Joel.

“It’s just me” He said with a plate of food. “He’s doing business, he’ll be back later.”

You knew what ‘later’ meant for you.

Tommy set down the plate and stepped forward, making you scramble back against the wall. “Relax, honey, I ain’t gonna touch yuh. Joel made sure to give a big speech full of vivid details on what he’d do to anyone who did” He pulls something out of his pocket; a deck of cards. “You know how to play solitaire?”

You nod.

“Good, you can have these. I imagine it’s gonna get real boring here when he-” Tommy stopped himself. Your purpose here was for Joel to fuck, and not much else, this was sure to lead to intense boredom in your solitary confinement; Tommy was offering you a small mercy, something to do.

“Go fish?” You asked softly.

You and Tommy end up playing the world quietest game of go fish, slowly easing up to him. You learned a thing or two from him in the small pieces he gave you, like that Joel was his older brother. You found it odd at first, to be sure, but the parts came together the more you thought about it. Their personalities were different, Tommy was much softer, kinder, gentle; it gave you an idea.

“Whats it like?” You asked.

Tommy looks up from his cards at that. “What’s what like?”

You don’t look at him. “Joel… he’s gonna… and I’ve never” You feel your heart rate pick up, anxious for his reaction.

You hear a loud sigh, and see Tommy scrub his face. “I can’t be having this conversation with you” He starts to get up.

“NO!” You lunge forward, grabbing his hand and looking him dead in the eye. “No, please, I need to know what’s going to happen.”

With a groan, he sits back down, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’ll probably bleed, but not everyone does. And it’s gonna hurt. I doubt Joel’s gonna take it easy on you.”

There’s a long period of silence before you say your next words. “Can you do it?”

In a flash, Tommy was standing up and walking to the door.

“Wait! Please!” you scramble up, grabbing his arm before it turns the handle.

“No! I’m not participating in this! I got enough on my conscience as it is!” His eyes are shut tight as you pull on him to turn to you.

“Please, Tommy, you’ll make it easier, I don’t want it to hurt!”

He opened his eyes wide, gripping your shoulders. “It’s going to hurt either way! There’s no ‘easier’, you’re fucked!”

You freeze, tears welling up in your eyes. “Tommy, please. I need you to do this.”

The desperation in your eyes gave him pause to consider. He had tried to stop this whole thing from happening, tried to pull back his brother the way only he knew how, to give Joel some sort of moral compass that he lost the day Sarah died… but even Tommy wasn’t enough. He saw the look Joel had in his eyes, that intense focus, that desire, not just to fuck her but to control her, own her in every sense of the word… and if Joel ever found out he did this, he’d be fucked. But Tommy was trying his best to make things easier on the young girl, and she was right; he’d be easier than Joel.

“You can never tell anyone, or we are both dead.”

Tommy was careful, opening you up with his fingers first, then fucking you, placing his pants under you, stopping the bleeding from staining the bed; a dead giveaway. He tried to touch you, out of courtesy, give you at least something, but you declined. Joel wouldn’t do that, you shouldn’t get used to it.

When it was over, Tommy couldn’t look you in the eyes as he wiped you off, putting on his blood and cum stained pants and leaving the room.

You played solitaire for hours until Joel stomped in.

With wide eyes, you stare up at Joel, setting down the cards.

“Get on the bed” He spoke harshly, dirt and blood on his skin and clothes and you could tell it had been a long day, and you were about to get the end of it. You did as you were told, getting onto the ‘bed’ which was a mattress on the floor, and waiting for instruction. Tommy was right; it had hurt, and Joel was bigger, and much, much angrier.

“It’s simple, little one. All you have to do is lay there and take it. Don’t gotta do nothing fancy, no tricks, no skills.” he took a few steps closer, beginning to undo his belt. “I’ll take care of you, I’ll make ure everything is okay.” he pulled off the belt, and slid down his pants before stepping out of each leg, moving slowly towards your shaking form, towering over you. “ I don’t want to hurt you, and I ain’t letti’n none of them touch you, so no more worrying about whose cock is going to be in your pretty little mouth.”

Joel bent over and you whimpered as he took your chin in his hand, forcing you too look up at him. “It’s yes sir, no sir, you don’t talk back, you do as you’re told, don’t try to escape and you’re good to go.” He let go of you, standing straight up and god, he was intimidating from where you sat. “You’ll never have to wonder where your next meal is coming from., you just get to sit pretty for me.” Joel finally pulled down his boxers, spitting in his hand before beginning to stroke his extensive length. “And really, isn’t this just better?”

Despite at least know what to expect, you were terrified. You had seen Joel kill your brother only yesterday, you knew what he was capable of, and you didn’t believe his ‘I won’t hurt you’ spiel for a second.

“Please don’t” you plea softly. “I don’t want to…”

Stepping out of his boxers, he huffs a laugh. “Funny, I don’t remember askin’ you”

Picking you up, Joel flipped you onto your stomach and straddled your legs, pinning you to the bed as you squirmed, quite ‘no’s’ and ‘please’s’ slipping out of your mouth, getting louder until he tugged down your pants and it all culminated in screaming while you twist and turn, trying to get away and hit him. “GET OFF ME! YOU FUCKER!”

Joel did not like that, turning you over fully onto your back and slapping you, hard. Your head rang from the force of his large hand, and you tasted blood in your mouth. Everything was hazy as you stilled in shock, and you didn’t even realize what he was doing until a second stinging pain pulled you attention.

“Ah, AH!” you shout as Joel thrusts into you in one go, splitting you open, and if you had any sense in you, you’d be thankful Tommy was your first; you couldn’t imagine the pain you’d be in right now. However, in the moment, you were only concerned with the pain as you continue to whimper.

“Shut the fuck UP!” Joel shouted, covering your mouth as he thrust into you, looking down to watch himself disappear into you. “You look so good like this, little girl, all stretched out around me, fuck. Awww you're bleeding?” Joel patted your pussy. "Am I braking you? Just a lil bit?" He picked up the pace, harsh and brutal, and you begin to cry, as quietly as you can.

“Fuck, you cry so pretty, no wonder all those men wanted to hurt you, so fucking gorgous” Growing more eratic, a thin sheen of sweat grew on his forehead and he smiled cruelly, slipping his hand around your folds "But they don't get to, not anymore" you were wetter than you'd like to admit. “Sure you don’t want this? You’re awfully wet. Think I can make you come huh? While you cry and pretend to hate the feeling of me filling you up?” Joel touched your click, and laughed when he felt you clench around him. “Yeeeeah, yeah you like this, sweet thing”

There was something warm brewing in your stomach, a warmth that spread to your skin, and you weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Were you poisoned? Is he fucking your dying body? But it felt good.

“Let go, little one, come on my cock”

A pleasureful pulsing in between your legs and suddenly your body felt great, and you didn’t know why; it didn’t last long, however, not long enough to distract you from what was happening. When it faded, you realized Joel was coming on your pelvis and the dirty shirt you still had on from yesterday. You didn’t look at him as he got up, turning your head to look at the wall, trying to stop existing in the moment. When you heard him leave, you curl over on your side and keep crying, too tired and too upset to notice when he came back until Joel arms wrapped around you again.

“Please” You whimpered, too tired to put up much of a fight. “It hurts too much.”

“Shh, shhh sweetness, we’re not going to do anything.” Joel scooped you up, wrapping the ratty blanket around your exposed bottom before carrying you out of the room. You were disgusted with him and yourself, but you were scared and lonely, so you clung to him; you didn’t want to be alone.

Joel carried you into the bathroom, pulling off the blanket and laying you down into a hot tub of water, pulling off your old shirt.

“There we go, little one, just relax, close your eyes and relax” Joel spoke softly, washing you with the harsh soap and gentle touches speaking softly into your ear. What did he think this was? What were you to him? When you were cleaned up, he put you in his clothes, whispering promises to get you your own. You could tell, as you walked from the bathroom to your room, that the men were watching you, but Joel arms around you left no room for them; you were his.

This was the routine for nearly a week. Joel would fuck you, and it would hurt. He never kissed you, but he always made you come, slowly conditioning you to have a pavlovian response to him; your body associating him with an orgasm, making you start to get wet when you saw him, despite how afraid you constantly were. This made things a little easier, but Joel never took it easy on you during sex, and it was multiple times a day. Afterwards, however, it was strange… sometimes he’d draw you a bath, sometimes he’d bring you food, clean you off, small, soft moments that never failed to confuse you with the juxtaposition of what was happening. You took it, however, whatever he gave you, because you were lonely, and you were scared. You saw Tommy sometimes, every day he brought you food and stayed to talk for as long as he could, even if just a few minutes, but sometimes long enough to play a card game or two. You felt like you were going crazy, secluded enough that you almost found yourself looking forward to Joel. Almost.

Despite his insistence he didn’t want to hurt you, he did. Not on purpose, you didn’t think, but more that he was careless as he manhandled you, the painful grip on your face in he covered your mouth, the punishing pace he set, your face hitting the wall when he turned you. In the moment, it was painful, but after he came and he calmed down, he seemed to almost feel bad, hence taking care of you.

But tonight it had simply been too much, everything hurt, your heart ached, and you were going stir crazy in your room with nothing to do but play solitair and get fucked. You had been assessing the room and different options, and you realized while the window didn’t open, it wasn’t bared. If you broke the glass and climbed out fast, you could get a head start in the woods. It was spring, cool but not cold, and certainly you could find somewhere to go, right? Run away, somewhere far, far to where Joel could never find you.

That's how you found yourself, running in the woods, blood on your hands from punching the window open despite wrapping the thin blanket around your hand, fleeing for your life. You had heard shouts from the house as you escaped, they knew you were gone, and were after you. You could hear the sound of a horse, although the lay out of the woods made it impossible to tell where the hoof prints were coming from as Joel, Tommy, or one of the other men chased you down, you weren't sure who. Weak from lack of food and sleep, and the cold air in your lungs, you tried to run, not getting very far when Joel nearly trampled you with his horse, picking you up by your shirt and throwing you over it on your stomach. You kicked and screamed and pleaded and cried, but it was no use. Joel didn’t say a word, quickly riding back to the barn and yanking you down. His silence was terrifying, and eerie calm before the storm you knew was coming.

“Joel, please, I’m sorry!” You shout, trying desperately to make things better, but Joel was on a mission, dragging you by your hair out of the bar and grabbing something you couldn’t see.

“JOEL!” You hear Tommy shout from across the field of grass, running over to where you were desperately attempting to keep up with Joel’s long strides and he pulled you by your hair, not caring if you tripped and it hurt. “Joel, stop, you need to calm down” Tommy tried to calm his brother, but Joel wasn’t listening, an Tommy attempted to pull you up to ease the weight on your scalp. When you got inside, the other raiders had gathered in the living room, and you expected Joel to take you to your room where he’d do whatever he was planning as punishment; instead, he stopped by the fireplace, throwing whatever it is he grabbed from the barn into the fire.

Joel pulled you up, hand still deep in your hair as he thrust your back up against the wall. “Don’t I treat you good?” He asked, oddly calm. “I take care of you, I feed you, I don’t let anyone else touch you.” Is that what he thought? That he was taking care of you? “You don’t have to do a damn but sit in that room and cum. You think things are so bad here? You think I abuse you? I’LL FUCKING SHOW YOU WHAT ABUSE IS!” Joel suddenly screams, loud and in your ear. “You think I treat you like a whore? I’ll show you how a whore gets treated!” Joel let go of your hair, but you were too terrified to move as Joel grabbed the collar of the shirt and ripped it open and pulling it off before yanking down your pants, exposing your naked body to Tommy and several hungry looking men in the room.

Tommy stepped forward, talking quietly. “Joel, don’t do this-”

Joel pulled out his gun, pointing it at Tommy, “Stand against the wall, you don’t get to play knight in shining armor this time.”

Tommy looked at you apologetically, then backed away. Your eyes turned to another man you recognized from the first day, the redhead, was staring at you like a piece of meat before Joel yanked your face back to his. “Tommy ain’t saving you this time, neither is Nick.” He throws you over the table, bare stomach to the cold wood, and handcuffing your right arm to the leg. “Fucking ungrateful bitch!” You heard him unbuckle and before you had a chance to blink, he thrust into you violently. “This is how whores get treated, is this what you want?” When you didn’t answer, he screamed again. “IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?!”

“No” You sob, looking up to Tommy for help, but Tommy stood where he was told too, closing his eyes. There was no point in trying to stop Joel on a rampage, unless you wanted to die.

You do as Tommy did; you close your eyes, and try to pretend you weren’t here, that the pain wasn’t happening, that you weren’t being violated in front of several men, including one that was the only person you could consider even close to a friend. From where you were bent over you could feel Joel hitting your cervix. Joel continued to degrade you, telling you this is what whores get, that dumb bitches don’t get cared for, that this was all you were good for before pulling out and cumming on your back.

You thought it was over, but Joel had one last trick.

“Since you want to try and run away, despite how good I’ve been, better make sure anyone that finds you knows who you belong to.”

“STOP!” Tommy shouts, one last try. “This is enough, she’s learned her lesson Joel, you're going to fucking far!”

Joel didn’t listen, and when you turned to see what he was doing, you realized what he grabbed from the barn

A cattle brand, his initials on the hot iron.

“Jo- AHH!” Your final attempts at begging for mercy are cut off by the searing pain on you hip, burning, blinding pain as you were branded. You were vaguely aware of Tommy yelling something, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Still handcuffed and bent over a table, Joel slapped the fresh burn as a last bit of punishment, and you were so exhausted you were only capable of a whimper. You could smell your own chard flesh in the air as the adrenaline coursed through you.

Joel walked around to the other end of the table and bent down to be face to face with you, brown eyes large and intense even in your bleary vision. “You’re gonna be thankful for just me, little one”

Joel stood up, and announced to the men there that they could all have a turn with you tonight, and stormed off into his room.

You were out of tears, out of pleas, ready to just lay there and take it until it was over, and hope to god if you behave Joel would go back to how he was.

You could see the redhead, step forward and begin to unzip, but Tommy, forever your savior, pushed him away. “Back off Nick”

“Oh I suppose you want her first?”

“No one’s touching her”

You felt a warm blanket draped over you, before Tommy knelt down and picked the lock on the handcuffs

Nick argued. “Joel said we can have her”

“And I said no. I can’t stop Joel’s bullshit, but I can draw the line with you all”

“What, so you can have her but we can’t?”

“No one but Joel is having her, fuck off”

"He said"

"And I said no"

Wrapping the blanket around you to cover your modesty, Tommy picked you up and carried you into your room, carefully laying you on the side that wasn’t burned. “I’ll be right back” he promised.

And he did, gently putting ointment on you and bringing his clothes for you to change into, but you were so shaken you preferred to just stay wrapped in the blanket.

“I’m sorry, honey” were the last words he sent to you before he left. You lay in your shitty bed, awake for hours, crying on and off.

When the door opened again, you thought maybe it was Tommy, but you recognized Joel’s footsteps, and froze in place. You weren’t sure how much you could take, at this point, how much more he could do to you before you gave up, before you found some way to end it all. For now, however you were going to behave, you were going to be good; you didn’t want to be hurt again. So you laid there, ready for Joel to take you how he always did, hoping to god he’d protect you from the other men and not hurt you again, not like he had, anyway.

But he didn’t.

Joel laid down behind you, pulling you in so that his body encased yours, wrapping his arms around you with a tender touch. Suddenly, your exhaustion took over the alert terror in your body that was keeping you up, and despite the fact he was the one that hurt you, you felt relaxed and safe. Before you drifted off to sleep in his arms, he gently placed his hand over the burnt skin where his initials were permanently etched on you. "Mine" he whispered in your ear. “No one else gets to touch you, little one”

*****************************

Thank you all sooooooooooo so much for the outpouring of support for this story!

I hope I got all the tags, if you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know!

I got two anons due to this side account, one telling me they lost all basic respect for me, and one saying that if i have a rape fantasy, then my real-life rape that i've talked about on my main page, wasn't really rape.

But I've gotten such an outpouring of love from this series, it makes up for it.

If you want a bonus chapter of Tommy taking Little One's virginity, let me know!

Next weekend i have a wedding i gotta travel 10 hours for so there wont likely be a chapter for over a week, SORRY!

Real quick promo for my main blog @romanarose , I have two Joel fics there, one one shot and one series, and if you like wild sex and Triple Frontier, consider checking out the Awakening series!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #tw rape #dub con #non con #dark joel miller #romana after dark #dark!Joel #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller reader #joel miller reade smut #dark joel miller reader

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voltstone · 4 months

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LYCOS | tacet anima mea | Master Content Post

Hello! I'm VoltageStone. I write a lot of fics. This being one of them, and it's been in the works for a while. Since November 2022 "a while".

I'm a shit updater, but life has also been nonstop for the past year. Ergo, updating has been...an interesting journey.

This is a beast of a fic. Both in its size and, given this post, its content. In short, this post will be linked to in future updates for this fic, and will serve as an ultimate introduction to LYCOS as far as Tumblr's concerned.

This fic is a Wenclair a/b/o. Extremely violent. Wednesday is unhinged to borderline demented. It does explore sexual content, both healthy, and in the healing of related traumas.

It's Dead Dove, basically. In the name of catharsis, but ultimately because of how...unwell Wednesday is.

...she is honestly the prime reason why it's Dead Dove. I dunno what happened. She just keeps being...really fucking weird, and wants to eat Enid? Like? Literally? In a heartfelt, non-vegetarian way.

Anyway, for those interested, the following is the summary. For the tags and specific warnings (none should be spoilery), keep reading. The tags will have what is on AO3, then I will specify/call attention to important tags and themes, and also add stuff that I know will come in later chapters.

I really do love writing this fic, but I know that it won't be everyone's cup of tea. Ergo, I felt like having a post that gives a glimpse to anybody new.

If you read, I hope you enjoy. If you don't, have a good one.

-- -- --

Wednesday is waning. In her dreams, or by touch, she has been locked to one moment. Her visions know no peace. There is Enid, beneath moonlight, skin a dying shade. Then there's herself between the trees, drenched in blood, with the knife at hand… Her true nature writhes. This is…just what happens when someone like herself snaps. It's happened before, will happen again. Because Enid and Ajax have been together through several moons. And he knows his way around her heats. And Enid seems…happy, until she isn't, and Wednesday has to put her back together. Enid has been stuck in a heat for a while now. And she smells good. She smells really, really good, and Wednesday will kill for it.

or, wednesday still doesn't know what to do about enid, and enid's biology really doesn't help matters. she is going insane.

(there will be bodies.)

General Warnings:

Gore, Extreme/Graphic Violence, Fights, Murder(s), Cannibalism (feat. Autocannibalism), Dismemberment, Drug Overdose (past/mentioned), Body Horror.

Mental Health:

Alexithymia/Emotional Blindness, Grief/Mourning (a murderer's guilt), Addiction (alcoholism, pills, sex), Familial Dysfunction, Dissociation, Identity Crisis, Depression, PTSD, Medical/Sexual Trauma(s), Self-Destructive/Suicidal Tendencies, Psychological Horror.

Other Tags (less concerning):

Demisexual & Aromantic Wednesday, Sun/Moon Motif, a (slight) Gomezification of Wednesday Addams, a Morticiafication of Enid Sinclair, no i am not tagging enid's dynamic you figure that out yourself, Dark Humor, Poe-isms, a very unreliable narrator, healthy depictions of discovering sexuality i promise please the addamses raised wednesday right, that being said, weirdass "courting" behaviors (ex: stealing laundry, then stuffing it into a bed after it was shanked open), addams-flavored terrorism for funsies (gotta teach someone to smile in her headshots!).

Also: Unhinged chapter lengths. None will dip under 20k.

AO3 | Ch.1 Tumblr Post

#lycos fic #volt's library #fanfiction #ao3 #wenclair #omegaverse #wednesday 2022 #wednesday show #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair

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ohbo-ohno · 8 months

Note

Maybe this is too dark, so please feel free to ignore it if it makes you uncomfortable in any way. I just wanted your personal spin on it.

What happens if reader finally reaches her breaking point? That last fic you wrote was insanely graphic (I loved it though) and I can’t imagine reader ever truly recovering or coming back from that. So in her grief and realization that she can’t leave no matter what she does; she tries to end it. Readers thought process being, ‘Ill never be human again, experience human things, even if I’m treated like the top of the world— I’ll still be under their boots’.

Again - if this is too dark please feel free to delete it! I love your content a lot and I’d hate to make you uncomfy!

This doesn’t make me uncomfortable but I’m not gonna touch on the suicide aspect just cause I genuinely don’t know how she’d come back from that!!

I didnt really mean to make the ending of that drabble so dark, I just got really lazy at the end and didn’t want to write all the aftercare 😭 the thing with this Simon and Johnny is that they do, technically, want to break you, but they want to build you back up too. They want to push you far enough that you let them in, let them see all your vulnerable little squishy parts, and then help you rebuild and become an even better version of yourself with them as your pillars

That drabble is meant to be a big step in that. Breaking you down to nothing, just an animal they don’t even bother to get off, so they can rebuild you as their girl, their woman, the love of their lives.

#asks and answers

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inherstars · 4 months

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So I've been on a Gears of War kick lately (obvs).

I played the games when they first started coming out in 2005 (I heard someone refer to them as "old school" and holy fuck, shut up), played through 1-3, and tried to play Judgement, but couldn't get into it. I haven't touched 4-5 at all.

I also read a couple of the books written about the universe by Karen Traviss, because that was really what drew me into the franchise. I'm not really a FPS shooter girl (although these are technically over-the-shoulder shooters), and I failed miserably at multi-player, but the campaign and gameplay were actually fun and engaging, and the world-building was absolutely brilliant. Just a super well-constructed universe, especially if you have any love for urban decay. It's funny how bad the graphics are in the first and second game, re-watching playthroughs.

Anyhow, GoW is probably a very "dude bro" type game on the surface, and that's definitely who got into it the most, but on a rewatch of the games I am absolutely jarred by how completely fucked up the protagonist, Marcus Fenix, must actually be. Like, all of the soldiers in the universe have seen and done some shit, but this goes well beyond "soldier tough guy".

His mother dies. He watches his father die after deserting duty to save him (and goes to prison for abandoning his post.) He watches his best childhood friend die, and becomes the unofficial guardian and protector of his dead-best-friend's little brother. He lives through the death of said little brother's children (of whom he was probably Godfather.) He sees one of his good friends commit suicide directly in front of him, with the weapon he literally just handed him. He helps the little brother euthanize his wife after finding her in a vegetative state. He also lives through the little brother dying in a suicide mission to save him. He realizes his father is alive, and watches him die A SECOND TIME.

And that's not covering decades of blowing up other living creatures and watching various other soldiers and friends die horribly.

The games cover most of these events, but they sort of gloss over them a bit. (Although Dom saying goodbye to his wife before he kills her was A LOT to rewatch.) Karen Traviss was a hell of a writer, even if I fucking hated her Mary Sue self-insert character SO FUCKING MUCH, and she took the whole story and ran with it, writing in a LOT of back story.

But holy shit. This dude was SO FUCKED UP. Like, although I haven't played them, I know he eventually marries Anya and has a son with her... AND THEN SHE FUCKING DIES, and he becomes estranged from his son.

How does nothing good ever happen to him? He's had like 15 minutes of happiness stretched across his entire lifetime, in little drips and drabs, and the rest has just been one horrifying atrocity after another.

Which is why, on the surface, it's so interesting to see Marcus Fenix presented to the average 20-something male gamer as "Oh yeah, such a badass," when -- after you dig into it -- it's like. My dude. No. He needs therapy and a hug. This is the most broken human being you've ever met. Don't glorify that.

#gears of war #character blathering #marcus fenix

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episodeoftv · 7 months

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3rd Place Vote (other final votes)

propaganda and summaries are under the cut (May include spoilers)

Doctor Who (2005): 5.10 Vincent and the Doctor

Tw: is about Vincent Van Gogh so does deal with self harm, depression, and suicide (but not graphically, just this is what happened in his life and they acknowledge it)

The Doctor and Amy travel back in time to meet Vincent Van Gogh and face an invisible monster that only the painter can see.

Not the showiest or even the best episode of Dr Who, but the one that I can’t watch without tearing up at the end. Really well written and performed and generally gorgeous to watch as well. I first saw it when I was ten and the speech at the end has imprinted on my brain and given me a language to help understand the ups and downs that life brings. It’s just a lovely one.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vincent_and_the_Doctor

Revolutionary Girl Utena: 1.39 And Someday, Together, We'll Shine

This whole show is full of TWs here's a link.

Utena's once again betrayed by Anthy. With the prince's sword in hand, Akio attempts to open the doors of revolution while the fallen prince contemplates her and Anthy's fate.

Series finale of Utena. Makes me sob every time. The betrayal, the fact that Utena still is trying to save Anthy, Anthy's coffin, their brief touch of hands before separated, seeing a montage of all the characters, and finally, seeing Anthy leave her abuser to find Utena. It's. Perfection. It's a traditionally happy ending but so hopeful that despite the heartache I'm still happy. That I know it'll be okay.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1401511/

#doctor who #dw #revolutionary girl utena #rgu #poll #polls #round8

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dag-hammarskjold · 1 month

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Death, Sacrifice, and Suicide: Markings and Dag Hammarskjold (Part 1: 1925-1949)

(Warning: mentions of suicide. Please do not read if you are sensitive to the topic)

Introduction

These three themes are present Markings even before his mandate as Secretary-General, and permeate the work after. Biographies such as the one by Lipsey and the foreword of Markings written by Auden mention him being tempted by suicide and his passive suicidality by way of being reckless with his own safety.

[To briefly clarify “passive suicidality” as is referred and will be referred to, it is a sentiment that 1) considers the death of himself, 2) while not displaying active desire to see death out, expresses death as some sort of “fulfillment”, “release”, or natural result of his “duty”, and 3) expresses a resignation or even willingness to met his own death, whenever that may be.]

Death is a topic I want to discuss with regards to Dag Hammarskjöld and Markings, as death, sacrifice, and his suicidality are so intricately linked within Markings that one could not help but interpret his death as a tragic, but almost morbidly poetic end to his life and career. Thus, I want to create a compilation post that serves as a reference for all the individual instances where death is considered in Markings.

Within Markings, many entries explore either his own death, or someone else’s. Not all will meet the criteria for passive suicidality, but will be included to help illustrate his frame of mind when it comes to death.

Lastly, since Markings does have a strong literary element, it is possible that some entries may be interpreted differently by different people. The inclusion of entries in this post represents the interpretation of this author only.

(Warning: below contains graphic descriptions of suicide)

1925-1930 (Age: 19-25)

Smiling, sincere, incorruptible— His body disciplined and limber. A man who had become what he could, And was what he was— Ready at any moment to gather everything Into one simple sacrifice.

This passage has been speculated to have been added to Markings at a later date.

While not directly related to suicide, this is very typical of how sacrifice is described in later entries, with a sense of inevitability and an abstract modernist aesthetic, reminiscent of the art styles he has been known to like.

Tomorrow we shall meet, Death and I— And he shall thrust his sword Into one who is wide awake. But in the meantime how grievous the memory Of hours frittered away.

Life only demands from you the strength you possess. Only one feat is possible — not to have run away.

I think most mentions of Hammarskjöld’s attitude towards suicide do not mention this entry. To not run away from life — has he already been contemplating suicide this early on? Or does it simply refer to not running away from the demands of life, within life?

1941-1942 (Age: 35-37)

There is only one path out of the steamy dense jungle where the battle is fought over glory and power and advantage — one escape from the snares and obstacles you yourself have set up. And that is — to accept death.

This is not necessarily indicative of suicidality, but in my experience, simply talking about accepting death at a younger age in a (modern) western background has gotten me weird looks. I am personally far removed from the average person’s perception of death, but I imagine most people do not contemplate death as much.

1945-1949 (Age: 39-44)

Before it became clear to us what had happened, he was already too far out. We could do nothing. We only saw how the undertow was dragging him faster and faster away from the shore. Saw his futile and exhausting struggle to touch the bottom beneath his feet. (…)

(…) She walked to the end of the esplanade, and then waded out through the mud until the water was deep enough and the current swept her away. But she did not sink. The water pushed her back. Again and again, until her strength was exhausted, she opened her mouth and thrust her face under the surface. This time it must not fail. She heard cries from the bank. If they would… During their attempts at artificial respiration, they have laid bare the upper part of her body. As she lies stretched out on the riverbank — beyond all human nakedness in the inaccessible solitude of death — her white firm breasts are lifted to the sunlight — a heroic torso of marble-blonde stone in the soft grass.

When the gun went off, he fell on his side beneath the maple trees. (…) Why —? Above the spreading pool of blood no questions reach the land you have sought. And no words can any longer call you back. — That eternal “Beyond” — where you are separated from us by a death chosen long before the bullet hit the temple.

Descending into the valley, at the last curve he lost control of the car. As it toppled over the bank at the side of the road, his only thought was: “Well, at least my job’s done.” His one, weary, happy thought. It wasn’t so: he was to go on living. But not to go on with journey. When he came to, the solid world again took shape around him, he could hardly keep back his tears — tears of self-pity and disappointment because his vacation plans had been ruined. (…)

This section within Markings is unusual in that it strays from the usual poem or short paragraph of thought, instead it is a sequence of short-story-like scenes.

Between the descriptions of death and suicide (that he was presumed to have witnessed by his biographers), were descriptions of a dreary, daily life: a man losing interest in his work for he believed he was no longer free, a man aimlessly drifting in the streets, only seeing his own meanness on the faces of others, an epitaph being given to a woman, and a man who, while attending to his work, got into conflict with everyone around him.

They, while mildly out of order, likely correlate to the suicides depicted. The man who believed himself no longer free let himself be dragged out to sea; the man who could only see his own meanness as if in Dante’s hell put a bullet in his head; the epitaph was about the woman who drowned, and later her daughter; the man who survived the car crash became impossible to deal with.

Beyond the idea of death, where many had already previously interpreted the scenes of suicide to be exploring, perhaps the entries between the depictions of death were just as important as explorations of life. The first two contemplates what leads someone to suicide, and the latter two what happens afterwards.

Perhaps they were the thoughts that Hammarskjold had been contemplating: to believe oneself to not be free, to wander lethargically and not have taken a risk to “reach perfection”, to finally succeed and have someone else follow, or to fail and find living more difficult.

More to be discussed in part 2.

#dag hammarskjold #markings #tw suicide

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laylatheloofa · 11 months

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HOW DO I CORRECTLY POST FANFICTION ON HERE (aka first fanfic post in. 2 years)

New Memories

Basil x Sunny/Sunflower (no actual romance, can be taken as either romantic or platonic), Post Good Ending

Trigger/Content Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Depicted Suicide Attempt (in a memory), Implied Self Harm (kind of, aside from the suicide memory it's only one non-graphic line), A deadname is implied (but not actually said/written)

Other things: Alternate Universe/Canon Divergent, Major Lategame Omori spoilers, Sunny is Blind, Sunny is Transmasc

Summary: Basil wakes up in the hospital to see Sunny sitting at his bedside. Sunny speaks to Basil for the first time in years.

Words: 3.4k

AO3 Version

In an unfamiliar room, a boy laying in a bed slowly wakes up. He opens his eyes, but squints as the room's light meets his sight. He goes to rub his eyes, but flinches from the unexpected pain of touching a bruised and swollen eye. He pulls his hand away- and realizes that he can't move his other arm very much. He can feel a cast tightly wrapped onto the arm… He does not even want to begin to remember what had even happened. He goes to rest his free hand on his chest, and is met with another pain, a stinging pain just next to where his heart is. It feels as if he's opening a fresh wound from that of a knife. He keeps his hand at his side, not wanting to cause himself any more unexpected pain.

…And that's when he realizes something. That stinging in his chest makes him remember what he'd done the night before. He remembers something trying to pry a weapon from his hand, he remembers hearing the disgusting noise of a bone snapping apart, and he remembers the feeling of a hand tightly grabbing his wrist. More importantly, he remembers… Plunging his shears into his flesh. One time, two times. His clothes were soaking with flowing blood and ripped from being stabbed through. He remembers falling to his knees, and seeing the face of someone familiar as everything went dark… Is he finally dead?

His eyes adjust to the room's brightness, and he realizes where he is. It's a hospital room… He survived, just by the thinnest thread…

He looks at his free arm. It's wrapped in gauze, and on that wrist is a paper bracelet. He reads his name on it, 'Meadows, Basil`.

In the corner of his eye, he sees a person sitting next to his bed. He turns his head to look at them.

It's his best friend. He can start to remember a confrontation with him…

Ignoring his resurfacing memory, he grabs his friend's hand. "Sunny-!" Basil didn't expect him to be here. Without speaking, his friend- Sunny- turns his head to face him.

He glances down at Sunny's arm, looking at the hospital bracelet that he too had been wearing. On it, he reads a name, 'Yasuda, ...….''... And then a name that Sunny doesn't use anymore; a name that Basil wouldn't repeat to him. He holds Sunny's hand a little tighter. Basil frantically questions him, mostly just confused.

"um… Why didn't you do anything? I didn't even know you were there-! You're- sitting right there- You didn't see me wake up-????"

As he looks at Sunny's face, he notices something. Bandages and a patch completely cover one of his eyes. The remaining eye that stares in Basil's direction, just barely failing to make eye contact, is a white, faded-looking eye, Sunny's blind eye… Basil comes to a conclusion; Sunny can't see with those bandages on, can he?

"U-um, Sunny- why don't you-" A memory brings itself to the front of Basil's mind… He pins Sunny to the floor with one hand, and has his shears raised in the other, just above Sunny's face. Before he can even start to think about what he's doing, his shears are brought down into a black-colored eye part of a cut up and bloodied face… He remembers hearing a raspy shriek of pain, he remembers holding his bloodstained shears, seeing Sunny weakly trying to stand back up… What has he done to him? Surely he couldn't have hurt him that bad…

…Basil thought he had been helping Sunny. He thought that he had been attacking Something trying to hurt Sunny, Something that killed one of his friends. Something that caused the both of them unending, excruciating pain. If he killed it, he and Sunny would be free.

At least, that's what he thought at that time. When he committed the act.

After a moment of realization, Basil becomes more nervous. "Sunny… um- What happened to your eye-? Why is it covered like that?" He doesn't want to believe he hurt Sunny, even if he can now clearly recall what he did… he wasn't really stabbing a monster, now was he? If Sunny remembers what happened, if that means Basil's suspicions towards himself are wrong, maybe that would mean that he hadn't hurt him.

Upon being asked the question, Sunny just… shrugs. He doesn't remember. Basil's voice becomes more frantic. "Oh- oh- do you- n-not remember????" Upon being asked, Sunny shakes his head.

Basil is going to have to tell Sunny what he did; and Sunny is going to hate him.

Basil stabbed Sunny's eye. He ripped it out of its socket, for no conceivable reason. It was the only eye with any sight left that he had.

Basil blinded Sunny.

He's going to have to tell him that. He's going to have to tell the person he cares for most, his best friend since childhood, his savior… That he left him with a life changing injury. That he took his vision away.

He knows that Sunny will hate him. This kind of selfishness is unforgivable.

…But… he could just lie, couldn't he? He's been lying to everyone for years, hasn't he? Why not lie to Sunny so he won't abandon him in the mud? What if he doesn't tell Sunny at all?

…No. No… He really doesn't want to lie to Sunny. If he's going to tell the truth to anyone, it's Sunny.

But… Before he says anything, shouldn't they check to see what really happened to Sunny's eye? Surely his eye could've been saved from the damage… Right? As Sunny thinks, a new memory resurfaces… A sharp, almost unbearable pain in his face, some sort of liquid running down his cheek… He remembers everything going dark in that moment.

Basil takes a deep breath, and speaks. "Um… Why don't we see what happened to it, then…? I'm sure it's still there-"

Sunny puts his hand over the bandages covering his eye. He'd been trying not to think about what really happened to his eye. If his eye is gone, well… What does that mean? He already can't see with his uncovered eye, so if his other one is gone… He can't just lose his vision now, right?

And to Basil, he just doesn't want to believe he could've hurt Sunny in such a terrible way, in such a permanent way…

Basil sits up, and reaches out to Sunny's face. "O-okay- move your hand away- we're going to look together." Sunny lowers his hand, moving it away from his face.

Basil grabs onto the bandages covering Sunny's eye. He takes a deep breath. "Alright… Are you ready, Sunny?"

Sunny nods his head.

Basil's hand starts to shake as he tightens his hold on the bandages. A certain type of guilt flushes over his body. "...Okay. Three… Two… One… "

He lifts up the bandages.

After he lifts the bandages covering Sunny's eye, a new feeling of shock and even more guilt comes over Basil. He stares at what remains of Sunny's eye… Nothing. Just his empty, hollow eye socket. It's gone.

Sunny's tiniest amount of hope for the situation fades after the bandages are lifted. He still can't see, everything is still dark; It wasn't the bandages just covering everything.

"Sun… Sunny…" Basil whimpers, his voice shaky and weak, "It's gone… Th-there's nothing there…" Without realizing it, he tightly grabs Sunny's arm. Tears form in his eyes. How is Sunny ever going to forgive him?

Sunny stays silent, as he usually is, though he is clearly stressed now. He clenches his fists, not wanting to believe this is real.

Basil forces out more to say through his breaking voice. "Sunny… I-I'm so sorry…." Without thinking, he sinks his nails into Sunny's arm. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" He takes a sharp breath as tears start to run down his face.

Sunny is a little confused. Why is Basil apologizing to him? Why would Basil, out of anybody, do anything to hurt him…? On purpose?

Basil weeps and cries, trying to tell Sunny what he did. He notices his confusion. "S-Sunny… I-I…. I don't know why I did it…"

Sunny still doesn't know what happened, he's still confused. More tears run down Basil's reddening face. "Y-your eye… Your eye that you lost…" Becoming more and more stressed, he frantically yells out. "I-I did it-! I took it out-! I stabbed you, I stabbed it- I-I attacked you! A-and now- you-" He shudders, his thoughts and words becoming less and less coordinated. " I'M A TERRIBLE PERSON! I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! "

….Sunny realizes what happened. His eye seems to stare in Basil's direction. He just sits there, in disbelief.

Basil keeps his nails sunk into Sunny's arm. He sobs and frantically apologizes over and over again as tears run down his face. Guilt, sadness, fear and regret overcome him. How could he do such a thing? What has he done? He hurt Sunny. How could he do that?! Sunny can't even see anymore, and it's all his fault… Why would he attack him?

A chill runs down Sunny's spine. From reality finally sinking in, to the realization that he'll never be able to see again, the realization that Basil attacked him, along with his overbearing apologies… It's already starting to grab hold of him.

…But… He's not mad. He just feels saddened. He's not mad at Basil for what he did. He feels like he should be, but… He just can't bring himself to be angry at him.

Oddly enough to him, he wants to forgive Basil. He himself has done worse, hasn't he?

And in that moment, it feels as if a wish alights in his mind, like a sparkler being lit on a summer night, or the sun shining through the clouds after a storm.

He wants to wish… That everything can eventually return to some form of normalcy. He wants to wish that he will be happy, he wants to wish that his friends will also be happy, even if that is a future far beyond what he can perceive.

He wants to wish that some day in the far, far, fantastical future, he'll be with all of his friends again, just as how things were before. He wants to hope that everyone will find peace, that they will find some sort of normalcy. And this time, it will be real.

…He's going to forgive Basil.

He takes a deep breath, pulls the bandages back over his eye, and shakily stands up. Basil's nails scratch into his arm as he does. Seeing him stand up, Basil screams out, and pulls him back down. " NO!! DON'T LEAVE ME YET!!" That just makes him cry even more.

Sunny silently sighs, and shakes his head. He stands back up, and with his other arm, motions for Basil to stand up as well.

"O-oh-" Basil takes his hand away, and carefully stands up, standing across from Sunny. Basil tries to calm his crying, wiping his face. His breaths are small and sharp. "I-I'm up… I'm standing… In front of you…"

After a moment, after Basil says where he is, Sunny reaches out to him. He puts a hand on Basil's shoulder. Another moment passes, and he tightly embraces Basil. Basil quietly gasps in surprise, before hugging him back using only his free arm, his tears coming right back. Sunny still likes him…? It seems so illogical in his mind.

"Sunny… Don't you hate me?"

Sunny shakes his head.

The two boys stay in a warm embrace. Basi's face stays wet with running tears.

After some time has passed, the two let go of each other. Sunny takes a breath, and for the first time in years, Basil hears Sunny's voice. Not a pained scream or shriek or a panicked gasp, but his real voice.

"When I leave… Please focus on yourself, okay? I want you to heal from… All of this."

Basil's eyes light up upon hearing his voice. His beautiful, oh so lovely voice, the voice of the sun that lights him up and keeps him going… Until he thinks about what he had said. "What does that mean…? I…. How am I supposed to feel better, if you're leaving? What do you expect me to do…? I need you here… You have to save me from this…" His voice shifts into a quiet tone of despair, a soft tone, almost a whine.

Sunny puts a hand on Basil's shoulder. "You can't rely on me like that."

Basil backs away. "...Why…? You're my best friend… I need you…"

Sunny only tries to talk to him. "...I have to leave. You know that. If you're only getting happiness from me being here… I don't think that's very good for you-" He pauses, and mutters something. "...Besides… Even back then…" He sighs, thinking of… What Basil had done on the day that Mari had died, his muddied words of comfort and panic from that night echoing in Sunny's mind.

Basil clenches his teeth and his fist. No… He doesn't want him to leave… How will he be happy with Sunny gone again? How long can he keep going?

"You can't do this to me, Sunny…" He shakes his head. "You can't."

Sunny turns his head away, thinking of what to say. How is he supposed to convince Basil to care for himself, if he's so used to leaning on him?

…He gets an idea. "Listen."

Basil looks at him. Sunny holds his hand out to Basil, who holds onto the hand.

"If you care so much about me, if you just want me to be happy…" He takes a breath. "It would mean the world to me if you cared about yourself just as much."

Bail looks at the ground, thinking about what Sunny just told him. How could he just… Stop caring about him? But at the same time, would doing what he asked be caring about him? He just doesn't know.

Sunny keeps talking. "Please. …Do it for me, Basil. I know it'll be hard, but… Let yourself heal. It might take a while, but… I'll be going through the same as you. Even if I'm not here physically… I'm rooting for you. I care about you. You'll always be in my thoughts."

Basil is completely silent for what seems like such a long time… But eventually, he takes a deep breath, and answers to Sunny. "Okay. I… I will."

Sunny feels happiness come over him as Basil tells him that.

But… He knows that he still has something to tell Basil.

The others know their secret now. The truth behind Mari's death. He takes another deep breath as Basil lays back down in his bed. After a long moment, he speaks again. "...I told everyone the truth. Our secret… What happened when Mari died." He feels Something lurking behind him, so, so close to him…

Basil's eyes widen. "Y-you told them WHAT-?! He starts to shiver and panic as he grabs onto Sunny's arm again. "WHY WOULD YOU TELL THEM WHAT HAPPENED?! THEY'RE ALL GOING TO HATE US!" Something surrounds Basil's bed. It wraps itself around Basil, eating away at him. Something seeps into the bed, and sprawls across the floor and walls. "A-ah… Why did you lie, Sunny? You didn't p-push her, I know you didn't!" He breathes heavily. "Something made you push her… Something… Killed her…"

Sunny shakes his head. "...Basil… You know that's not true. I know you were there that day."

Basil puts his hands together. "Sunny! Stop lying! Please! I KNOW YOU DIDN'T PUSH HER! I-! I wanted to save you from what Something did!"

Sunny just shakes his head. "No. Basil, please…. Stop lying. I don't… I don't want you to do what I did, ignoring the truth."

Basil shudders. "F-fine! Fine! You did it! Y-you… Pushed her." …He remembers more clearly what happened on that night. His blood runs cold. …It really was Sunny. And he knew that. He has known that. …Why has he chosen to lie for so long? "....What did everyone else say, then…? They hate us, don't they?"

Sunny shakes his head. "They just… Left. I don't… I don't think they hate us."

"Did they forgive us? A-any of them??"

"....None of them… Said anything…" Sunny sighs, and keeps speaking. "But, look on the bright side. Like you always wanted to do. We… Don't have to keep hiding this anymore, do we?" Something behind Sunny closes its eye.

Basil weakly shakes his head. "We… Don't." Something surrounding Basil shrinks.

"...We can finally move on from this now, can't we?" Tears form in Sunny's eye. "Now that everyone knows… We can finally stop being attached to the past, we don't have to keep lying…" He takes a breath. "...I've… Already said goodbye." Something behind him disappears.

Basil just looks at him. It feels like his mind is clear. "You're… Right…." He stands up and holds his hand out. Something surrounding him seems to fizzle out and mostly disappear, Some parts of it retreating back to him. He speaks to Sunny. "My hand.... I-" Before he can finish speaking, Sunny quickly finds and grabs Basil's hand, and a wide smile finds itself coming across his face as he holds his hand. Upon seeing Sunny's smile, Basil can't help but to warmly smile as well.

After a moment, they let go of each other's hands. Sunny steps away. "I'm going back to my room, okay…? I think someone is supposed to check on me…"

Basil just nods his head, managing to calmly acknowledge Sunny's departure. "O… Okay. Goodbye… for now-"

Before Sunny leaves the room, he pauses. He runs back over to where he remembered Basil standing just a moment before, and tightly hugs him. He says one last thing. "...I forgive you for everything. No hard feelings. You're still my best friend."

Basil hugs him back, a smile coming across his face again. "Thank you…"

After a short, quiet moment of embrace, they let go of each other, both of them feeling some sort of happiness at long last. Four years of hell, finally over. They're finally ready to move on.

Sunny leaves the room, walking slowly and carefully.

Basil lays back in his bed, listening to the sound of raindrops hitting the window in his room.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

A while later - a week, maybe a bit longer later - Sunny stands at the hospital's front doors, wearing a fresh set of clothing and an eyepatch over his empty eye socket. His mother had come to pick him up. Just as he's about to leave, he hears a voice of an adult behind him. "Someone wants to see you."

He turns to the source of the voice. After a moment, he hears the voice of his best friend, Basil. "Hello-" A few doctors accompany him.

Sunny carefully goes over. Basil starts to speak again. "...Sunny… I really don't want to see you leave, but… I know you have to… I still have to stay here for a while-

Sunny just nods.

"...I… I promise… I'll do what you told me. I'll- care for myself. I promise… I have a lot to think about…"

…Both boys smile. Both give a gentle, small smile.

Sunny grabs Basil's hand again, and quietly speaks to him "...Goodbye, Basil. I'll make sure to visit some time, okay….?"

"Okay." Basil tightens his grip on Sunny's hand. "I-I'll really, really miss you, but… I'll make sure that I'll be okay. For you."

Sunny keeps a smile on his face. "Thank you."

Basil takes a deep breath. "....Sunny…. Let's make some new memories together whenever we meet again, okay?" He tears up.

Sunny nods his head.

As the two hold hands, they both feel what seems to be a string on their pinky fingers tightening and getting stronger. A tear runs down Basil's face.

After a moment, they let go of each others' hands. Sunny turns around for a moment, before turning right back to Basil.

"....Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Sunny."

And Sunny and his mother leave.

Soon enough, Sunny is sitting in the back seat of a car, listening to the other cars passing by. He hums a small tune to himself, and thinks about everything.

He thinks about how grateful he is that Kel finally got him outside. He thinks about how relieved he felt when Aubrey apologized. He thinks about how brave he felt when he jumped into the pond after Basil… He thinks about how happy he is that Hero saved them… And he thinks about when Mari did the same when she was alive.

The hope that sparked in his mind comes back. He just wants everything to go back to some form of normal, even if it seems so far away…

He closes his eyes, and thinks about what that future could be like.

#omori spoilers #omori #omori fanfic #omori sunny #omori basil #omori sunflower #omori sunnflower #sunnflower

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ohelpthekraken · 1 year

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Title: You May as Well Fire at the Moon

Summary: Post “First Shot’s A Winner.” The fact that the skitterbots hadn’t worked on the creature concerned Lt. Little.

Warnings: Blanky's amputation is non-graphically described, and Edward has suicidal thoughts (but does not act on them) towards the end.

500 words.

Lieutenant Little watched the ship’s boy walking around the deck picking up the deactivated skitterbots. The BN-NX-82 rifles [1] the Marines had used fired a swarm of nanobots that, upon contact with a living target, would skitter around devouring it and use the biomass to self-replicate. They were also dangerous to anyone who touched the poor sod being eaten, hence the use of inorganic medics [2] in situations where skitterbots may be present. Depending on their programming, they would devour each other or deactivate from lack of fuel when the target was gone. He had watched several shots hit the creature’s haunches and seen the skitterbots deploy, and the start of the swarm. But the altered magnetic field that surrounded the beast [3] had disabled them before it could be meaningfully injured. The ship, on the other hand, had been injured.

The creature—the Tuunbaq, he reminded himself—had ripped open part of Terror’s hull like tissue paper causing the compartment to depressurize. Mr. Honey had only just struggled into his enviro suit and begun patching up the hole, sparks flying, and Hickey was redoing the sealing on the hatch he had broken earlier. In Little’s memory the sound of rending metal merged with Blanky’s pained screaming. Over the comms. when the leg of his suit had been breached and Blanky’s leg was sacrificed to the stars, and again in Medbay when MacDonald had cut the remains off. Little imagined what the doctors were currently doing: snipping, pruning, sealing, doing whatever reconstruction they could now that the replication technologies onboard were starting to fail. And now, Crozier’s pistol was burning a hole in his coat pocket.

Back in the solitude of Edward’s cramped cabin he pulled the pistol out and turned it over in his hands. Examined its construction. Toyed with the safety. Pointed it at the small shaving mirror, making eye contact with the darkness of the bore. Crozier’s pistol wasn’t an NX model, meaning it didn’t fire skitterbots and therefore would not grant him the complete disintegration he wanted and secretly thought he deserved.

Edward thought about the Navy firing two ships of men out into unknown reaches of space and wondered if they were no better than the skitterbots—programmable, mass produced, devouring everything in their path before dropping dead. Edward hoped this sad little expedition would drop dead before they started eating each other.

Well Captain, Little bitterly thought, putting the pistol into a drawer. All our clocks are running out. But I have a duty to the men, so I will prolong my time as much as possible.

Author's Notes:

Thank you for reading a scientific writer's first attempt at creative writing in about a decade! While this was fun to write I struggled a bit, so I may or may not just post a list of ideas of how things work or events might happen in this little AU. Regardless, please feel free to talk to me about it!

The title is a quote from British Army Col. George Hanger about the accuracy of the ‘Brown Bess’ sea rifle (1814).

[1] British Navy NanoExtruder mk. 82. [4]

[2] Stanley and Goodsir are the inorganic medics on this expedition.

[3] In this AU I picture the Tuunbaq to be the simulacrum of a neutron star’s soul. Not exactly sentient, but able to be directed to an extent. It can manifest in a typically physical sense, but the men perceive it to be surrounded by radiation and strong magnetic and gravitational fields that royally fuck up their equipment. Signal interference.

[4] Lead is the 82nd element ;)

#krakenposting #the terror #theterrorscififest2023 #Edward Little #I don't have an AO3 account so this is going to live here #This is 500 words of Nedward thoughts; a little bit of worldbuilding; and blunt cannibalism metaphors.

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uchihashisuii · 1 year

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at the end of all things. | Obito/OFC

Summary: The name of the person most suited to mirror your heart is scarred clear upon your skin. Sometimes, this eases the path to fate. Sometimes, it does not. | Soulmate AU

Pairing: Uchiha Obito/Nara Akari | Uchiha Shisui/Nara Akari (Past)

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3336

Prompt: Any AU + Identity

Content warning for introspection and a huge character and relationship study. one instance of a non-graphic attempted suicide

Author’s Note: this is just 3k word vomit abt my oc akari for @obito-week

Ao3

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The name of the person most suited to mirror your heart is scarred clear upon your skin. Sometimes, this eases the path to fate.

Sometimes, it does not.

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A misstep, a novel indulgence of rain-soaked branches and two people crashing into one another high in the trees. Brown eyes meet black eyes and it is both the beginning and the end.

Akari meets Shisui, and things slot easily into place.

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They're young, yet not unburdened. Soul marks are a flight of fancy, not something one such as a shinobi needs fret over. A fairy tale, a warning. Shisui teaches her there is more to life than her black-and-white existence as a weapon for ROOT, and Akari knows there cannot possibly be another out there more suited for her hidden heart.

There is danger in their lives, blood and fear and no room for anything other than village. And yet -

And yet.

-----

Akari and Shisui grow together, fumbling hands of nervous teenagers discovering a budding love and affection. There comes the day when both anticipate and yet dread the appearance of their soul marks - what do they do if it isn't each other?

What do they do if it is?

-----

When her name does come, it curves over the jagged scars against the side of her throat. An almost delicate contrast, in thin lines and artful kanji of a name she recognizes, and yet does not.

Horror blooms bright on Akari's tongue as she traces the rounded edge of the first character with the tip of a trembling finger, sitting right above her pulse-point. It almost seems to chase her touch, this familiar-yet-not name, her heart skipping a beat as her lips part, forming the name of the one she is destined to love.

Uchiha Obito

She covers it with her palm. Her hand does not move until she pulls on a high-collared shirt, and runs with feet as quick as wings to the Uchiha compound.

-----

Mikoto is quick to school her incredulity into the gentle and encouraging smile of a supportive mother. She reads the name on Akari's tender neck, reads it once more, and reads it again. Shares a look with Fugaku; impossible the word that wavers on the tip of her tongue. Death parts everyone, and when it happens the names left behind fade on skin until there is naught but an old and silver scar of a promise once kept.

If she tilts her head and squints, it does indeed look as though the kanji for Obito is fading away, lighter than the rest. Mikoto feels her heart begin to ache at the thought; a little girl bearing the burden of a name most have forgotten, a name of a child's sacrifice lost to history, embedded in the memorial stone and the mournful remembrance of friends.

Akari's whisper is barely a breath, vulnerability palpable as the fifteen-year-old bites down her sadness, her shame. "Take it away."

Ah, Mikoto sighs, and kneels before the young girl, holding her small hands between both of her own. It is not a thing to be taken, not by anyone; not by jutsu or blade or fire. To cut it away will bring it back in another place; to mar it with ink will change its shape for maybe a day.

"I want to choose for myself," Akari murmurs into the silence, steeling her resolve and lifting her chin, challenging fate with hardened eyes and clenched fists. She had chosen, already; heart belonging utterly to Shisui, and unable to accept the fact that whatever force had cursed mortals with knowledge of their soulmate had decreed him unworthy of her heart. Shisui is hers as much as she is his, and nothing will tear them apart.

Mikoto feels her mouth quirk into a small smile, nodding her head as she squeezes Akari's hands, and tells her the truth: that there is always a choice.

She is still smiling, albeit sadly, when she imparts the other facet of truth: that she only knows of one person with that name, and he has been gone from them for too long. Taken from them in an act of selflessness, gone in the name of kindness and friendship and something almost like cruelty. Children deserve to live, not fight wars.

Akari blinks wide brown eyes up at her, small and guarded heart already beginning to tighten. She grieves anew that her name is lost to most - only immortalized in stone and the mournful memories of those who called him a friend.

If nothing else, Uchiha Obito will have her. She is Shisui's as much as he is hers, in differing facets of love and connection. She doesn't need the gentle encouragement from Mikoto to remember that Itachi is hers, too; a different love but love all the same. The black-eyed Uchihas who had welcomed Akari with open arms and minds, who had helped along the path to learning what love could mean.

And now, young and nearly afraid, oddly grieved and chest heavy from a distant sadness - Akari resolves that she will be Obito's, too; and he will be hers. If no one else, she will remember. There is a choice, always; and she has chosen and will continue to choose who it is she loves, who she allows to be branded upon her heart as well as her skin.

-----

Shisui's soul mark never appeared. Not unheard of, but unusual nonetheless. A gift, perhaps; fate decrying that just as there is destiny, so too is there choice. His skin remains scarred and bruised from his tireless work as shinobi, and even without the physical manifestation of love still he wears his heart on his sleeve, openly affectionate and caring and charming and oh, Akari loves him so.

Itachi begins wearing his long hair in a low tail, soft strands falling gracefully down his back. There are a few months where he casually slips a palm to the back of his neck, as though ensuring something is covered.

Akari notices, and does not ask. Itachi offers no explanation. She gives herself no time to agonize over it, doesn't have the strength to face head-on her suspicions that he now bears Shisui's name. He loves them both, as they both love him; and nothing will tear their dynamic to shreds, not even one of them.

-----

She questions fate once more, when her world topples for the second time around her shoulders. The first, that day she met her other half. The second, the day he leaves her permanently.

Shisui is gone, and she is adrift. Love everlasting, even in a memory. Even in a dream.

She doesn't sleep, doesn't mourn. Pushes herself that much harder, in some misguided attempt to flee from her own shattered heart. He's gone, by his own hand, and she will be forced to confront the childish idea she'd clung to that her ill-fated love hadnt been enough to keep his hand in hers.

-----

Soulmates aren't worth this, surely? This ache, ever-present and digging sharp fingers into her too-full chest. A day dawns and she nearly takes a blade to the name that's followed her for just shy of ten years, jaw set and tears misting her vision. Be rid of it, be rid of the shackles and the pain and the startling lack of choice.

She'd loved Shisui, and it hadnt been enough. Because he wasn't hers, wasn't etched into her skin as he had been in her heart. The blade kisses her pulse, a sharp sting of reality that tells her she dances on the edge of something terrible.

She needs to let go. Must accept. Shisui would want her to live, and in the small and half-mad part of her subconscious she thinks Obito would want that, too. Would want suffering to end, would want life to flourish despite hardship.

The knife falls, and she doesn't even have a grave to apologize to for nearly losing herself to hysteric grief.

-----

Akari had wondered, more often than she'd ever admit, if she would have loved him. Uchiha Obito. Fingertips dancing over the name, where it hides beneath a high collar; she wonders if they'd have been friends. The name is faded, but not enough; a mystery that keeps her awake more often that she would care to admit. Death parts, but his name is still dark as ink amidst the tattered tangle of her scarred neck. He's not - alive, but he isn't dead, either. Does she even have the right to - to what? To hope? She hadnt known him. Would never have known him, save for fate and the gods above deciding on a whim that they were destined to entwine.

(A gift, they call the marks. A curse, others. Akari still doesn't know, tells herself she doesn't care. She'd been given the name of a dead child, and had chosen to love a different boy who would still die. It aches, deep in her bones.)

She'd gotten the odd story from Kakashi over the years, of a little boy who yearned to prove himself. Bright orange goggles perched on his nose, perpetually late because he would never say no to anyone needing a helping hand.

Together with Kakashi they mourned of opportunities and friends lost, too many to count. And Akari indulged herself in small and idle fantasies of finding a friend, of bonding with a sweet boy with a resolve to topple mountains; of kindness freely offered and a heart that she really would have liked to call her own.

-----

A half-dozen people have Naruto's name somewhere in their skin, with the jinchuriki's own body dusted from neck to ankle in twice as many. It takes the unending confidence and warmth of a hyper-active teenager to make Akari realize that soulmates are two hearts calling out to one another and finding a kindred spirit. It is romance, and friendship, and brotherhood, and a million differing facets of love. Bonds come in every form, multitudes of colours and shapes. Fate can be embraced, as readily as it can be ignored. She is marked with the name of a dead little boy, and still she had loved and been loved in return by a man who bore no name. She had seen soulmates come together and fall apart, had borne witness to an intrinsic bond that never once turned to anything other than familial. A woman's name belonging to an older woman who embraced her as a child. A man with two names whose hands were never empty of either. One of the Sannin, name long gone from her fair skin, only to have a new one appear nearly two decades later.

Fate is cruel as well as kind, and none can define with often fallible words just what sort of bond awaits you.

Akari sets aside romantic tales of true love and holds tight to those she'd loved and lost. She will carry Shisui, Itachi, and Obito in her heart, and offers silent prayers that they will find one another in the next life.

She has the children she looks after, the orphans who call her okasan when she isn't around to listen. She has her friends, who bolster her heart and help her to stand when she wavers. She has the love she feels for her village, her clan, and her people. They all each take up space in her heart, and Akari feels the tender and warm realization of fulfillment.

-----

And then once more fate decides to make her life a cruel irony. The Fourth War rages and the adrenaline and the fear give way to something far more cruel. Akari fights alongside Sai -her heart, her hope, her son- and stands tall amidst the certainty of her life and where she had decided it would go. There is always a choice. And she'd decided to break the shackles of a past filled with horror, fight free of the torture and the iron grip of Danzo. To remember those she had loved and lost, and find strength in loving again. To choose to fight for a future she has decided she will be a part of.

It still hurts, like hell most days. But still she fights. Remembers who she fights for -herself, her friends, two dead boys that linger in her heart- and stands tall amidst a threat that could take it all away in a blink.

Akari resolves not to let that happen. Tightens her fist around the pommel of Shisui's tanto, and strides toward death.

-----

Obito sees her, the kunoichi at Kakashi’s side, with shoulder-length brown hair that hides half her face as she swings her lithe body, leg thrown out in a side kick. The pale sash tied at her waist billows with the movement, reminiscent of a medic's apron. He's frozen, locked in a vision of a bygone age; his indiscretion allows the woman to come close enough that he can see his own panicked expression, reflected back at him in her dark eyes.

Rin, he thinks to himself, something stark and empty weighing down his chest.

The kunoichi's hair whips across her forehead as she kicks out her leg, teeth bared and dried blood smeared down her cheek. Her grin is feral, and Obito sees the clear sign of protector writ across her expression, her body language. He's too stunned to even utilize kamui, still hopelessly locked in a genjutsu of his own creation as the woman's features blur into those of his first friend, his first love. His arms move out of pure instinct as her body twists, catching her kick with his gunbai; it rattles his arm, and her eyes narrow before shoving away. Her body arcs back, landing in a low stance and pulling free her blade.

-----

Not the most romantic way one meets their soulmate, but Akari thinks it's all rather par for the course in the life of a shinobi. She doesn't have time to digest her own feelings on the matter; they are at war, and Kakashi is still helplessly aggrieved at her six and the fate of the world still hinges on this one night.

She can worry about the name on her neck in a few hours.

-----

Obito's soul mark is in the middle of his back. No matter how hard he shifts and moves he can never reach it, left only grasping at the whispered promise of what if? He can only catch glimpses of it in the mirror, fleeting and blurry and hard to read. A given name, no last name. Strange occurrence, to be sure, but - he doesn't care.

He'd never cared for it. Knew it wasn't - who he might have wanted it to be, once. Before the cave. Before Madara. Before.

It still comes as a shock when the girl he'd seen fight beside Kakashi all but shoves her tanto into the holster at the small of her back, march over to him with something unreadable in her eyes, and forcefully shove his shoulder until he turns.

He bristles, because of course he does. Rudely handled, and showing his back to an enemy. (His mind works faster than his heart, for once; are they enemy? they are not allies, not as of this moment. He's still lurching from the vertigo of a forgotten-and-remembered heart, of deciding to walk tall as Obito and not as no one. He has a name. Someone else bears his name. He's not thinking about it)

His shoulders bunch somewhere near his ears, that old petulance shining through in the pout he knows he wears. Her fingers are cold on his naked back, and Obito fights back the urge to snap at her to fuck off when he realizes she traces his name.

He's distracted by laughter. Hers, he surmises; this odd slip of a girl that pokes and prods and he lets her because what other choice is there? He's wrung out and exhausted and so much had transpired this one single night that he doesn't even have any remaining brain capacity to care that a stranger is pressing her nose against his soul mark.

"At least we match," she says between bubbles of laughter, dancing on the edge of hysteric. And Obito is mystified because - what?

"What?" He says, intelligently, voice more gruff and tone more annoyed that he'd intended. But -point of order- they're still in the middle of a battlefield, threat to entirety of the shinobi world still looming large despite his choice to turncoat and remember who he once was.

Curiosity wills out, and he turns. Meets her eye. Hands wringing together, dirt and bruises across her face. Up close, she looks nothing like Rin - but that stubborn, warm and open fire in her eyes. She's - familiar isnt the right word. He'd never met her, had maybe seen her once or twice during his reconnaissance in Konoha before the outbreak of the war. Just another shinobi, just another nameless blade.

She lifts a hand and he tenses, ready for a fight, as instinctive as breathing. They are allied for only a moment, and he isn't sure if he had been the one to bring the knife down on those she loved.

But she only hooks a finger into the hem of her shirt, yanking down the high collar and exposing her throat to him. Head tilted to the side, flush of red colouring her cheeks, she says not a word.

He sucks in a breath, brows furrowed in incredulity. It isn't difficult to make out, over the dappled skin. For a moment he thinks she mocks him, the scarred skin so reminiscent of his own. But - he sees it. Clear as day. His name, staring him in the face from the tender neck of someone he'd tried to kill.

He's found miss no-last-name. At the end of all things. And then he's laughing with her.

To be intrinsically tied to him? Him? He almost apologizes to her for the inconvenience.

They share the same hysterics, the sheer irony of fate. For a moment, he thinks she looks lovely when she laughs.

-----

The sky bleeds red, and Akari dreams. Or had she been dreaming? At last, at last - fate defies all odds once again. She meets Obito and he's an ass but he's kind, too, in this last hour since he'd decided to fix what he'd wrought. He was witty and strong and he'd helped her stand when she'd nearly buckled from being overwhelmed. A hand reaching out, tentative and very nearly hopeful. When this is - over, can we talk?

Yes. Of course. She had smiled through the daze, and promised him a conversation.

And now she dreams. Of Obito, of Shisui. Of all she'd lost and found and hoped for, all of it bleeding together into one simple weaving of her heart's desire. Happiness, of those around her. And if there's some left over, then, well. Maybe some for her, too.

(In her dream, she is laughing. There are no names, there is only warmth.)

-----

Akari wakes, and the world is quiet. For a moment, panic seizes her chest. They had lost, and everyone is -

A steadying breath, and then another. Her eyes slowly open, and in the far distance she can see the sun begin to crest over the horizon. Much closer, Obito sits at her side, in silent vigil. She's - disoriented. Touched, nervous, excited. Definitely just disoriented.

"Hey," she whispers into the gloom of morning, throat burning and skull pounding from the effort of clinging to consciousness. She'll not let herself miss this moment, this calm between storms. Things are quiet, and he is here, and she's going to allow herself to be happy for that.

"Hey," Obito says back, something tentative in the way he turns towards her. Almost shy, with his hunched shoulders and wringing hands. But still he smiles, very nearly teasing, and offers his hand for her to stand. "Miss no-last-name."

Her neck burns, her name beckons. Akari smiles, and takes his hand.

#obito uchiha #obito x oc #uchiha obito #naruto #naruto oc #akari #obikari #shikari #jules writes

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romana-after-dark · 1 year

Text

The Wrong Way: Chapter 7

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Tommy Miller x reader (secondary)

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

********************

There would be no need for a bath, he had already taken you once today and the two of you had sat in the water until it was room temperature; Joel had even managed to get a scented candle, saying the wife of one of the other raiders, one who didn’t live in the house, made for you when she heard Joel was “seeing” someone. You wondered how much she knew, if she knew you were kidnapped, bought, that Joel had hurt you so severely in the early days, but now your relation had shifted into more of a live-in girlfriend. Either way, it was a kind gesture, and you enjoyed the lavender scent as Joel washed you. You’d been rather lonely since Tommy left last month, but things in the house had shifted once again…

Lorenzo had somehow become your babysitter in place of Tommy, except you were allowed outside of your room now. You’d proven to Joel that although yes, you’d cheated on him, you wouldn’t leave. You managed to convince him it was just once, and although he was not thrilled that Tommy had taken your virginity, he seemed convinced that yes, when you had actually begun showing him affection, Tommy was just your friend. You loved Tommy, you think, but you weren’t lying. He had never touched you sexually after that first day. Joel didn’t need to know about the affection you showed each other…

Still, you wondered why Joel was so willing to leave you alone with Lorenzo for hours on end when he’d already had to deal with Nick and Tommy, but you were grateful. You’d taken to housework to kill time, Lorenzo usually sitting at the kitchen table drinking whatever alcohol he’d gotten his hands on and smoking as you cooked, washed dishes, swept and mopped. Many of the things you used to clean or cook with had to be requested of Joel, almost like a shopping list that depended on what he could find. A bunch of bachelors living together hadn’t proved to have much necessary home items (they didn’t even have flour!) but in time, you’d been able to provide them all with a cleaner living environment and better food. In turn, many of the men were less shitty to you. You think sometimes to that night Joel had left you handcuffed to the table, and you wonder who, of the men who muttered quick words of thanks, would have raped you after Nick… would Jack, who occasionally sat with you when Lorenzo and Joel were both out and made small conversation have hurt you given the chance? Were the men who you had began to take company in the same men who raped and killed? You were sure of it… but how much did it matter? Joel was your primary company, the one you took solace in, the one whose arms you laid in right now, and he had done horror to you… you couldn’t exactly hold the other men to the standard you had held Tommy to.

“Got any plans today while I’m gone, little one?” Joel asked as the water cooled, neither of you wanted to get up yet, not until Joel really had to go.

“It’s nice out, I think I’ll do some laundry” Nice weather was laundry days. Jack had thrown together a washboard of sorts for you when Joel was unable to find anything and you had refused to let him demand one from any of the households of the other men. Jack had worked with his hands pre-outbreak and was able to put something together for you, which you appreciated.

“Lorenzo ain’t give’n yuh no trouble is he? I know he can be a damned asshole sometimes, especially when he’s been drink’n”

When wasn’t he drinking? When wasn’t he an asshole?

Great question. “No, no trouble, thank you for asking.” Lorenzo could be an asshole. He was blunt, and made it very clear a few times how stupid he thinks you are for staying with Joel, for pushing Tommy away, for putting yourself between Tommy and Joel tha night and refusing to kill Tommy, simply banking on the unstable man’s mercy, so on and so on… But you would yell at him to shut up and he would, after a last word or two if he was drunk. You appreciated Joel’s concern, the way he always looked after you… You remember the hurt on his face when he had come back from slaughtering Nick, how sorry he was that you felt like you couldn’t tell him, and of course Tommy had insisted that he made you have sex with him, despite the fact you had begged Tommy… Joel tried so hard to communicate with you now, or at least for you to communicate with him.

“Alright. You’ll-”

“Yes baby” You took Joel’s hand. “I’ll tell you if he so much as looks at me funny”

You could feel the light laughter from the rise and fall of his chest. “Anything you need today? Other than the cocoa powder, I’ll keep looking for that.” It was the last thing you needed before you could make brownies. You knew he’d find it eventually, but it wasn’t a necessity.

“Can you trade for more eggs? Trade, Joel. Trade. Not steal.” You insisted he not take more from people on his lands other than the ‘rent’ for ‘protection’. An older farmer had a chicken coup and that’s where you got your eggs. Joel sighed, but agreed. You pause before asking. “Joel?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He leaned over to pull the plug on the tub, draining the cool water out.

“Lorenzo said there were a few apple trees a couple miles out… I wanna make a pie for Mrs. LittleHawk, Cash’s wife, as a thank you for the candle, and of course a few for you all.”

Joel mumbled something about not needing to send a thank you, that the women should respect me the way the men respected him, but you thought that was silly. They had no reason to think anything of Joel’s kept woman.

“Please Joel?”

He sighs again. “Fine, only because I ain’t had apple pie for 10 years. I’ll swing by the patch on my way back.”

You turn around in the tub, facing him as your wet hair stuck to your face. You comb his hair back and smile as he leans into your touch ever so slightly. “I was actually hoping… maybe we could take a ride out there? I wanna pick ‘em myself…”

“Baby…” You looked so hopeful, so wide-eyed and innocent. “I got so much shit to do, I ain’t got any time in the day light to take you for a few weeks”

You pout. You know Joel has a hard time saying no when you pout, especially when he’s all lovey-dovey after sex.

One more sigh. He supposed you’d been so good, very well behaved and not an inkling that you wanted to run… he had forgiven you for cheating on him with Tommy, a difficult betrayal to grapple with, but that was just how much he loved you… he supposed there was no reason to not let you go… you knew if you tried anything it’d spell the end for Zach and Tommy. “Are you comfortable going with Lorenzo?”

You light up, peppering kisses all over his face as you thanked him, continuing to tell him how much you appreciated it and how you were gonna make a whole pie, just for him as he dried you off, carrying you back to the bedroom you shared. There was no reason you couldn’t walk, but Joel always carried you, and you always laid your head on his shoulder or kissed his neck as he did. You loved feeling loved, protected, adored.

You watched Joel pull off the towel around his hip and get dressed, and despite being sore from the ravenous fuck this morning, you still felt that pang of desire. He really was so, so handsome; broadest shoulders you’ve ever seen in your life. Joel looked over his shoulder and smirked as you eyed his bare ass before he pulled up the boxers. “Like what you see, little girl?”

You blush and turn away as he chuckles, before going to the closet to pick out an outfit for you. He had been bringing back several dresses, which you thought a bit impractical, but he seemed to enjoy watching you cooking in a dress, walking up and pressing his erection into your ass with your hands in the dish sink. He had absolutely fucked you against the counter before, nearly burning the baked beans in the process and your arm, and you had managed to assert one single boundary during sex; no fucking while you cook.

He pulled out a white dress for you which you put on over your underwear.

“I got a surprise for you.” He says as he finishes dressing, strong muscles flexing with his movements. He gestures for you to sit on the bed, and you are delighted as he picked up his guitar.

You gasp a bit. “You fixed it?”

“Just for you, princesa” Joel smiles. “Now, it’s been a long as time, and my voice ain’t what it used to be-”

“I’ll love it, it’s perfect, no matter what” You assured.

Clearing his throat as he sits on the bed, he tuned up one more time, having fixed it up the other day while she worked on the garden with Lorenzo binge drinking outside. “Alright, well, this is one I still remember all the words and chords to, so here we go.” He looked… nervous. He wanted to please you, make you smile, wanted to make you happy in your life here… and you seemed happier, you really did. He knew you missed that traitor bastard of a brother, but it seemed Lorenzo kept her enough company when Joel was gone.

When the music started, you were immediately entranced. It was melodic and haunting and beautiful all at the same time… and when Joel began singing… you couldn’t help but begin to truly adore him. Nothing he had done to you mattered the moment he sang to you.

“Well I’ve been ‘fraid of change’n cause I built my life around you

Well times makes you bolder, children get older and I’m getting older too

Take my love, take it down… If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, will the landslide bring me down, oh, the landslide brought it down.”

The cords were a bit clunky, and he mumbled over a few words not seeming to remember exactly what they were, but you loved, you loved it so much you begged him to play again, and again, and again until he said he needed to get going, but you had memorized chunks of the words and the melody, you wanted it to play in your head forever the way Red River Valley did when Zach used to play it.

“I take it yuh liked it?” Joel chuckled as he took the strap off his shoulder.

“It was beautiful, Joel. I loved it. Were you a singer before the outbreak?”

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “No, not really. I wanted to be though. I used to sing and play for family, few open mic nights” You didn’t know what an open mic night was, but it sounded like a show, and it made you proud that someone who had played at shows played for you.

“For family?” You ask, not thinking, but then immediately regretting it, knowing that this was a sore subject for him.

Instead of getting angry, he looked… sad… He shuffled a bit, getting up to put his shoes on. “Yeah I uh… I had a daughter. I sang to her before bed, she loved that song.”

You knew better than to press the issues, knowing the fact he even mentioned Sarah was him laying an extreme amount of trust on you, and you took this trust seriously.

“Did you write that song?”

He hesitated. “Ummm Yeah, I did. Years ago.”

A few hours and a horse ride later, you were picking apples while Lorenzo smoked and drank against a tree. His cigarette smelled awful so you made him move away from you. You usually didn’t mind the smell, but your nose had been so sensitive lately, and whatever brand he got today smelled like a skunk. You supposed he couldn’t be choosy, but Jesus did he have to drink too? Nonetheless, you were happy today, you really were, happy to get fresh air and sunshine, enjoy the smell of the apples and the trees and the flowers, the warmth on your skin and the breeze through the thin dress. You hummed along to the song Joel had sang you today, gently singing the few words you remembered here and there.

“Oh, hhmhmmhmmm what is love. Can the child hmmm hmmmmmmm rise above, Can I sail hmmmm hmmmm hmmmmmmmmm can I sail through the seasons of my life”

“How the fuck do you know that song?” He slurred, clearly drunk already.

You turn to look at him curiously. “How do you know that song, Renzo?”

He scoffs at you. “Uh, maybe because it’s an incredibly popular song from before?” The sarcasm slurs out of him.

“No it’s not” You chuckle. “It’s Joel’s. He wrote-”

Lorenzo was laughing so hard he fell over. You felt your cheeks burning.

“Why are you laughing!”

He tries to catch his breath as he continues wheezing on the ground, his smokers laugh mixing in with coughs and chokes. “I-I’m sorry” Now, you knew that wasn’t genuine. Lorenzo didn’t apologize. “God DAMN you are way too fucking young for that old bastard” he holds his stomach and hickups as he laughs.

“Don’t call him that!”

“Fucking hell” Lorenzo covers his face, kicking his legs a bit as he mocks you. “He’s got you so fucking brainwashed, I should feel bad for you if this wasn’t so fucking funny!”

You didn’t think it was that funny, but whatever was in that drink must make him a lot gigglier than usual.

You throw an apple at his head.

“Ow!”

“Why are you laughing!”

“This is some really fucking good weed”

You didn’t know what that meant and you didn’t wanna ask.

Lorenzo went on. “That song he sang you is a very very popular song by one of the most famous bands in history, Fleetwood Mac, and it was covered by a popular country band like a year before the world went to shit. Joel absolutely did not write it, and the fact he was, what? 5? When the original song came out and you don't even remember it should disgust him. And Tommy for that matter but you don’t ever fault Tommy for- OW!” Another apple.

It was a while before he spoke again. “You could run for it, you know. This would be a good time, if you can get to the horse before me.” You ignore him, and he mutters that you are a dumb bitch again, lying on the grass with his smelly cigarette.

“And what about you?” You challenge him. “Now would be a great time for you to cope a feel, take advantage of us out here alone like everyone else seems too.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that sweetheart” He giggles, his accent (Boston, he told you a few weeks ago), even thicker with the alcohol, making him a little hard to understand when he drinks. “You aren’t my type”

“Oh?” You ask, not believing him. It’s not that you thought yourself anything special, but you also knew with men, it wasn’t your looks they were after, just what was between your legs, and most of the men you had met, save for Zach, Tommy and Lorenzo, seemed eager to get there. “Then what’s your type?” Your laundry basket full of apples perched on your cocked hip, you challenged him.

You did not expect him to answer “You’re brother”

The basket of apples`drop to the ground. “What?”

Another burst of giggles. “Oh come ON! You got Stockholm syndrome but being gay is where you draw the morality line?”

“No! No it’s not that… well, I guess I’ve never met… and you still see Zach? How is is he-”

“Slow down there, sweetheart” The drunkenly thick accent making it sound more like sweethaht. “First of all you have obviously met a ho-mo-sexual” he drew out the word teasingly. “‘Cause your brother is one. Secondly, he’s doing good.”

He ended oddly sincere.

You had so many questions, but mostly you were thankful Joel didn’t go back on his word and kill Zach for trying to take you. “Did you… is that why you helped him try to rescue me?”

“Nah” A little wave of his hand and a sleepy chuckle. “He did pay me, but we hit it off. Don’t think too hahd ‘bout it, we ain’t elope’n or nothi’n”

“Well… can you tell him I said hi, and… I miss him?”

“Yeah, yeah I will. C’mon, let’s get going” Lorenzo wobbles as he stands up, falling over a few times getting to the horse. As he tries to mount, he’s halfway on the saddle before falling off with a harsh ‘OOF’

“Lorenzo!” You set down your basket of apples you had to regather, and hurry over to where he lay. The wind was knocked out of him but he was breathing, to your relief. “C’mon, let's go.” You try to pull him up, but he just laid there, groaning and dizzy as his world spinned.

“This is the perfect oppretunity to go, why don’t you just fucking leave, dumbass”

You growl a bit as you try to get him going, successfully pulling him to sit up at least. “I’m not having this discussion.”

“You’re little hero left you, there’s nothing here for you except this delusional little white-picket fence life you are playing with.”

“If I leave, you are dead! Joel will kill you! You ridicule me for not having common sense but if I leave you’ll end up like that rotting body outside the house as will Zach and Tommy!” You push him back down, but he sits up quickly grabbing your shoulder. “Let go!”

“Don’t pretend like you are doing this for me, kid, when you know damn well you’ve gone and fallen in love with the same asshole who raped and abused you!-”

“You don’t know anything about us, or about him!” You scream, trying to pull away.

“You think I ain’t seen that fucki’n brand on your thigh when Joel dresses you up like a doll in those short little dresses?” His voice raises.

“Let! Go!”

Lorenzo’s hand goes to your skirt. “Look what he fuck’n did to you!”

The slap you delivered across his face was so hard it stung your hand, his lips bled a bit as you fell back in shock and he laid back down on the grass.

The two of you laid there in silence on the ground for a while, panting. You hadn’t reacted like that since Joel first took you, and even then you never slapped him.

It was Lorenzo that spoke first. “What are you gonna do when the baby comes?”

There was a pause as your ears rang, blood draining from your face, you felt hot as your heart rate picked up. “What?”

“I had all my sisters, 6 of them. Was married too, not that anyone ever asks. I know when you’re on your period, even though I try not to. It ain't come yet” You had no way of keeping track of dates… it came when it came and all the days had begun to blur…

“No… no he always pulls out…”

“Well so did my sisters boyfriend but she still got knocked up at 14, was puking every morning like you. You’re about 3 weeks late.”

No, no this can’t be happening… Your hand flies to your stomach. “No, I had… I had a stomach bug…”

“Whatever you say.” He looked like he was about to fall asleep.

God no, you can’t bring a child into this world… How is Joel gonna react? Fuck, fuck, fuck! “Get up!” You scream at Lorenzo, standing up and forcing him on his feet. “Get on the fucking horse and get us home!”

He begins to climb up. “So fucking-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, so fucking stupid” You grumble, and sit behind him to keep him from falling over as he takes you home.

You’re pacing the floor when Joel comes home, and immediately clocks something is wrong, dropping the bag he brought. “What did he do?” His face is stone cold, pulling out his gun.

You knew he meant Lorenzo, and as much as he got on your fucking nerves, you didn’t want him dead. “No he’s fine, it’s not him, it’s just… Joel I gotta tell you something, and I don’t know how you’re gonna react…”

Joel softened. He knew… he knew his reactions are why you didn’t tell him about Zach, and if something was wrong, he wanted you to be able to tell him. “It’s okay, you can tell me little one, we’ll figure it out together.”

Tears fill your eyes, and as the sobs start, Joel takes you into his arms. “J-Joel… I-I-I’m pregnant.”

He freezes, unmoving and you cannot tell what he is thinking. He’s gonna be mad, he’s gonna be so fucking mad at you, he’s gonna beat the shit out of you until you miscarry, or he’s going to kill you! He only just mentioned his daughter to you today, this is going to tear up open wounds… what if he thinks it’s Tommy’s baby? You didn’t want this, you didn’t want this at all, how could you bring a child into your situation?

“This is amazing…” He whispers.

“W-what?” How could this be amazing?

Joel pulls back to look at you. “This is amazing, you are amazing…” wonder is in his eyes, but you shake your head slowly.

“No… no Joel we can’t do this, we can’t raise a child”

“Of course we can.” His voice was so soft, so assured… “We absolutely can, I’ve done it before.”

“When the world hadn’t gone to shit!” tears were still in your eyes, occasionally spilling over.

His grip got just the tiniest bit tighter… “You don’t think I’d be a good dad?”

You knew a warning when you saw one. “No, no that's not it!” You were quick to deny the accusation. “It’s just… this world, there's constant danger-”

Joel cuts you off with a kiss, his grip tight as he begins to kiss your neck. “I protect you, don’t I?”

“Yes, Joel, but there's so much going on, I can’t-”

Another kiss. “Yes you can.”

“No, no I can’t. Please, Joel, I know you know people, doctors… can’t you find someone, someone too… to take care of-”

Another kiss. “Of course I can, I’ll find the best doctor around, you’ll have everything you need.”

“No, not a pregnancy doctor, Joel I want to end-”

His grip on your shoulder was harsh, uncomfortable, but not necessarily painful… he was playing nice, nicer with you than he usually did when he perceived a wrongdoing. “You wanna abort my baby?”

The tears flowed freely as you began to plead with him. “I can’t do this Joel, I’m fucking scared, somethings gonna go wrong I just know-”

A final, searing kiss. “We’re gonna be parents, okay? A happy little family.” There was no room for question, no room to argue, no room to ask as he kissed you, his grip softening as you didn’t protest; your reward. I won’t hurt you today, but remember, your body is still mine. All this freedom, but you still belong to me.

He kissed you onto the bed, dressing you down and into a nightgown, his hand constantly rubbing your stomach, caressing it, adorning it in affection with the same hand that nearly brought you to death multiple times… but he was so gentle, wasn’t he? So gentle when he wanted to be… And he had been different, he’d been better, Joel had been so soft, even in sex. None of the ways he would in sex, even accidentally. And he agreed not to come onto you while you cooked, you had successfully been able to say no to sex… that was an improvement, a vast improvement… yeah, maybe you could do this.

When Joel fucked you that night… you felt like you could call it making love.. He was so tender, it was surreal. As he strummed his guitar lazily for you you felt your stomach. Logically, you knew there was hardly anything there, but you felt it… you felt that little baby in you… barely a twinkle. Joel would keep you safe, Joel would keep the baby safe, everything would be fine… As Joel played the song from this morning again, you didn’t bring up what Lorenzo said. Joel was the one singing it to you, so it was his song…

You rested on his lap. “Do you know Red River Valley?” You ask, looking up at him as he clumsily strummed his guitar.

“Yeah a little, it’s a pretty popular western song. You like that one?”

“Yeah, my… my brother played it.” Shit.. you froze again. Would that upset him? There was an unspoken rule not to talk about your life before him…

“Ah, well, I think I can get the chords out, dunno the lyrics though.” He began to plunk around to get the tune, teasing the chords out of the 6-string.

“I know the lyrics.”

You watch him smile softly at you, eyes sparkling as he brushes the side of your face with the back of his hand. So gentle, so tender… “Sing away then, pretty one, I’ll match your speed.”

And you did. You sang all the verses you knew while Joel strummed along, carefully to your pace. You weren't a great singer, but it brought you comfort… You were scared, so scared, but it would be alright, wouldn’t it? The tears rolled down your cheeks, and you smiled at Joel so he would think they were tears of Joy.

“From this valley they say you are going

I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile

For they say you are taking the sunshine

That has brightened our path for a while”

“Come and sit by my side if you love me

Do not hasten to bid me adieu

But remember the Red River Valley

And the cowboy who loved you so true”

*******************

Okay so i know this is a boring chapter but i was looking at the initial pacing of the chapter timeline and i didnt like it, it felt rushed but now i fel like this chapter makes it too drawn out??? But here we are

I knowthis focuses more on Lorenzo and Little one but I thought it was fun at least. plus, baby?!?!?!?!

If you had theories on how this ends, or where its going, does baby and joels reaction to baby change it? lets here it!

New header, pictures of LO tied up are replaced with pictures of her as a "little house wife" as Lorenzo says. and of course, Tommy is gone, replaced with Lorenzo;-;

Since the last poll was SO FUN lets do another!!!!

As always, thank you sooooo much for comments and comment reblogs and asks!!! it makes me sooooo happy to see how engaged people are with the story!!! makes me really happy and keeps me writing.

Im tryna work on dark!nathan bateman but joel distracts me!

Also I really need to work on my normal non dark frankie series on my main XD

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

#dark!joel #the wrong way series #the last of us hbo #dark joel miller #joel miller #joel miller smut #non con #dub con #the wrong way fic #joel miller fic #Tommy miller #dddne

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rin-and-jade · 6 months

Note

hello. this ask will contain themes of SH and suicidal ideation. if you would like to delete it, that’s fine; please make sure you’re in the correct headspace before reading it as it is very heavy.

one of our alters has a serious problem with self-harm, though he denies that his particular methods (he forces himself to vomit when he feels anxious or “dirty”) actually count. i’ve made a deal with him that if he refrained from engaging in it for all of today, i would not tell his partner, and the same will apply for all the days forward. i didn’t want to do this, but i didn’t know how else to get him to stop. now he hasn’t done it today (though it’s still early), but he has done other things, namely holding our arm to a cup of boiling water until it burned. i called him out on it and he told me word for word “you never said no burning myself”. i tried telling him what he was doing to himself and to us. i tried using his partner as a bargaining point, telling him that forcing her to watch as he destroys himself is killing her. then i tried using his daughter, our host; i told him that he’s not only harming his own body but that of a young girl who has done nothing wrong.

i feel sorry for him, i know he is hurting incredibly badly. he has expressed suicidal feelings and self-hatred multiple times before. we do have access to a therapist BUT she is not qualified in DID and has refused to discuss it with us as she doesn’t want to do us any harm with her lack of knowledge.

he tells me that he worries, if he does not have this outlet, that the anxiety will “overtake” him and he will “lose [him]self.” he feels as if all he does is hurt people and he would be better off dead. he does not understand that he could possibly be valued or worthy of love. he consistently tells me he wishes he was dead and he wants to be killed, describing graphic ways he’s thought about ending his life, which i will spare you of. he hates to be touched and spirals if he thinks too hard about all the people who have hugged and touched us, especially if he was in front while they touched us. he feels intensely “dirty” and “corrupted” when certain people touch him, such as particular friends who have harmed us in the past, and has described this feeling to me as incredible discomfort in his skin and the need to remove himself from our body. he has confessed to having frequent panic attacks and he has severe, nearly constant anxiety, so i cannot fault him for finding a coping mechanism, but his coping mechanism is incredibly destructive.

he seems to be in denial that what he is doing is harmful, because he is already so upset by the idea of hurting others. i don’t know how to tell him that he’s causing problems without making him feel infinitely worse. however, he really is causing issues in our collective life: our teachers believe we’re bulimic, he has left visible scars, and now our body’s automatic response to fear or anxiety is to begin to gag (the same thing that sometimes happens in bulimia— the way the body gets so used to vomiting that it doesn’t know how to turn that off).

i truly don’t know what to do with him. he says he poses no danger to himself, but i believe otherwise. i really do not want to ban him from front or lock him up, and neither do i want to force someone to babysit him all day since that would be humiliating for both of them, but i don’t see any other solution. do you have advice? thank you in advance.

It took me a while to respond to your ask, but i understand your situation and i got it covered. Let me present you the graph i made:

This is how i see your situation, the circle represents a loop of habit and outcome, the external factors that point to each point in the loop is what could be the possible fuel that reinforces the current habit and outcome. These are the things you had stated on the ask and i strung them all to a possible outcome according to it, although not perfect.

What im trying to say is, if things are being kept on a loop, reducing ONE thing to a less intense experience will start to weaken the perpetual cycle, while this is not easy work and often need a person to support, it is still possible for you and other parts to support him if relying on external friends seems an impossible act.

Here are the things that you can work on with him: 1. Create a safe space - an uncomfortable area can affect the state of the mind, having some comfort items and soft textures around can be soothing when things are getting rough and triggering. 2. Actively challenge thoughts and beliefs - sometimes when things happen, we react to things immediately without even realizing how we feel, or why we react a certain way. You can start implementing on being more aware of thoughts and ask why, what, when, and how to gain more insight. 3. Reasoning behind the acts of self-mutilation and why it is perpetuated despite many unwanted results - while it is not easy to reason why we do this or do that.. it is still capable of making us weigh judgment if its really helping us, or not. 4. Learn acceptance and seeing other kinds of pov - we often believe the things we repeat on our heads are true... or are they? Being focused on one view without another view is like saying the shadow is a rectangle to a cylinder (not looking from enough angles that creates a biased judgment) if you get me. And while accepting yourself can be an intimidating thing, answer me, list all the good things that happens when you got to deny and push things away, and if there's none or with very weak reasons,, understand that this means it's not the most efficient way to deal with everything. 5. Aware that you'll never be prepared to face fears/problems - We don't have to feel ready to overcome something,, because that will be never, because we have this odd sense of comfort with existing habits and would do anything to justify. I've been there, and it caused even more pain for myself and others.. just because i don't want to lose and actually deal with real things. So one step at a time.

You got to remind that he's never alone even if he doesn't think like that, it doesn't need to be a positive thing, but a simple "i'm here for you" can sometimes mean alot to a struggling person.

Anyway.. i suggest you contact me via DMs, im willing to be another support buddy and a place where you can ask for updated need of advices without needing the skbox anymore. I'll look forward on assisting you near future. There's more stuffs i got to say anyway.

- j

#did #actually did #did community #did osdd #did system #dissociative identity disorder #plural #sysblr #system stuff #janswersask

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thunderousone · 7 months

Text

Chapter 15

Summary: The Thunderous One apologizes to Eirene the best way he knows how- with his mouth.

TW: depression, suicide, profanity, graphic depictions of sex, pain kink, childhood trauma, parental trauma, chronic pain

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Status: Finished work! Chapter 15/23.5

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated 🤍

masterlist | read it first on ao3

Together they walked inside and Eirene saw Lyire descending the stairs. He didn't even let her hair drip for a moment before he waved his hand and dried them both in an instant. Eirene left Vír's side and ran to Lyire and wrapped her arms around him. He pulled her tight and she could feel the wind tussling her curls. "Eirene, I had hoped Vír would tell you before any of this blew up," He took her face in his hands and smiled. "You saved my friend, in more ways than one. I owe you a large debt of gratitude. That does not change the fact that Ravi is waiting to get his hands on you and that we've put you in grave danger."

The wind pushing up on her back let her know that Lyire could see the strain that blast took out of her, propping her up like a crutch. "She needs to lie down, she's tapped,"

He swept her up in his arms and Vír carried her to his bedroom. Her head hit the pillow that it had only just left a few hours ago and exhaustion took over.

She slept for the rest of the day, and most of the following day as well. Vír never once left her side. She began to feel her magic move beneath her skin again. Lyire brought in food and water periodically, checking in. As she faded in and out of consciousness, she heard a lot of arguing between Lyire and Vír. And apologies, a lot of apologies.

Late the second day she stirred awake, soft light filtering in through the windows with the curtains drawn. There were gray clouds on the horizon, but the light pierced through the clouds enough to spill it's light into the room. Eirene's lightning under her skin begging her to move, to feel, to discharge all the built up magic inside her.

Vír was napping next to her, above the covers. He must have felt the vibrations within her because he didn't even open his eyes, he just pulled her into him. Wrapping an arm around her and resting it in her hair.

He opened his mouth to speak, to spill another apology that was already on his lips but Eirene moved her head up to kiss him. "Shh, I think it's my turn to talk now my rain cloud," she put a hand on his chest and he closed his eyes to the static touch. "I'm sorry that you were hurting so much. I've struggled with that feeling before myself. The feeling that the world is better off without you," silver began to line his eyes as a few sad drops of rain hit the glass. "But I have to tell you, I am so glad you're still here. With me." She kissed the tear drops off of his cheeks, each one leaving a soft buzz as the water touched her lips.

"You sound like Lyire," he laughed through his sadness. "He said something similar. But I can't help but feel like my desire to end things for Lyranth and myself have hurt you yet again," he closed his eyes remembering what happened the day that he tried 20 something years ago. The storm that stole her parents from her.

"You are not your depression. You are not your thunder or rain. You're Vír. You're alive. Your my rain cloud. Mine."

Vír slid his arm out from under her and used it to prop himself up. Eirene looked so beautiful in the soft light that diffused in the room. He could see spots on her nose and cheeks where freckles could peek through if allowed the luxury to be in the sunlight.

"I'm not just alive, I'm living. For the first time in my long, miserable existence. Thanks to you," He leaned down and took her face in his hand and kissed her. The kiss was slow and claiming. The rumble in his chest shook Eirene deeply as her lightning pushed back out, wanting her to touch him.

"I don't need to be your reason for living, but I'm thankful to be the reason you decide to begin again," She pulled him on top of her and felt the bright light crash into the room, clouds parting enough that the dark interior of the room was alight.

Nothing mattered outside, for now the pain of the days prior forgotten. She began to kiss him deeply, she felt her magic ache for need as much as she did. She felt his hand tighten in her hair as the other found her waist. She opened her mouth wide, inviting his tongue in. A moan passed between their mouths. This kisses grew deeper, more passionate. Eirene slid her hand down the front of his pants and he pressed himself into her touch but pulled his mouth from hers.

"Wait," he moaned, his voice husky with lust. He grabbed her hand from him and pushed it into the soft pillow under her head. "Let me apologize to you. I need to taste you".

Eirene's breasts ached and needed to be touched. She felt desperate for their bodies to collide more, to let this mutual discharge of elements and passion continue.

He lifted her shirt over her head and marveled at breasts, nipples hard to the cool air. He kissed down her neck, and let his teeth graze over them as he passed them, Eirene moaning to the feeling.

Vír pushed the covers down away from her and expertly pulled her pants off, leaving her entire body exposed to the sun. She began almost purring with the electricity and a need that pulsed through her entire being. He leaned down and kissed her bare stomach and looked up at her with those dark gray eyes. "I feel like I've lost control when I'm with you," he dropped another kiss, lower. "The moment when I close my eyes all I see is you. It feels like I couldn't leave you alone if I wanted to. I want to make you feel my love," another kiss planted lower on one of her hip bones.

Her hips moved up in a begging and pleading motion. Vír took that as a command and lifted her knees up, his hands cool on her thighs as he lowered his head between them.

Eirene wasn't ready for his mouth on her.

She felt him lapping up the wetness that he found there, growling with delight at his doing. He licked her quickly, a hard flick at the top of her that made her back arch even further, her hips rising to him as she yelped. He licked her opening again and this time paused and sucked on that top, most sensitive spot.

Eirene couldn't control herself as she shoved her fingers in his hair, it rising to meet the tension of the electricity pushing through it. Vír growled with pleasure at that pain and his tongue thanked her by doing a long slow sweep before driving his tongue into her, curling at the tip as if he could bring her closer to his mouth. She tasted sweet and warm, her body hot with the lightning pushing into him.

She moved her hips in time with his licking and sucking and cried out for him. He slowed down, painfully so, drawing out her pleasure in a teasing manor. His tongue continued to pump in and out of her but avoided her most sensitive spot. Eirene felt as if she might unravel at any moment. She was one touch away from crying and losing all control over his wicked, wicked mouth.

He felt her hands tighten in his hair, begging for more. And so he obliged. He continued to lick her, sliding his tongue inside her and finally flicking and pressing down hard with his mouth at that perfect spot, sliding fingers inside her to pull the rest of the release from her as he did so. She could feel his smile, his teeth nibbling down on her, even as his mouth continued to rip her over the edge.

He removed himself from her, leaving a kiss on her thigh as he did so. Eirene was still panting, limp with pleasure as he sat up and licked his soft pink lips that were shining with her orgasm.

She reached for him, seeing his arousal pressing hard into the front of his pants. Her fingers barely caressed him as she felt him twitch. He grabbed her wrist and gently pushed her hands away.

“No, I wanted to apologize to you. No expectations. You should go shower then come downstairs and see Lyire,” he adjusted himself in his trousers, she could see the shape of him perfectly outlined and her she salivated at the sight. “You taste amazing, love,” he purred as he helped her up and into the shower, her knees still weak.

#fanfic #ao3 writer #sjmaas #skz fanfic #skz smut #straykids #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin #skz stay #acotar #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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starrysnowdrop · 2 years

Note

A selection of smaller questions to fill in some gaps in my knowledge - apologies if any of this is covered elsewhere and I have missed it.

How did Yume receive the large scar across her abdomen? It sounds like it was quite a serious injury. Did it take long to recover from? Is she self-conscious about it or does she see it in a more positive light? Has Graha asked her about it? How does she feel about it being touched?

Tell me more about Yume's tattoo? Presumably the imagery of the Phoenix is something that resonated with her? How old was she when she had this completed? Are tattoos considered respectable in Hingan culture? Is there a class aspect to this? And if so was there an element for Yume of marking her transition from noble's daughter to her rebirth as a freelance ronin?

I really enjoyed reading about Yume's interests and skills, but I was wondering what makes her laugh? Does she laugh easily? Does she make jokes herself? Or does her more introverted nature tend to mean she avoids making herself the centre of attention?

What kind of poetry does Yume write? Haikus or Free Verse or something more structured? Does she share her work with others? Has she ever written a poem about or for Graha?

Finally a mildly NSFW and entirely optional question about tails. I won't press you on the mechanics of intimacy in that regard, but how does Yume manage having spikes on her tail - or rather how does Graha manage it? I've no idea what happens to Au Ra tails during moments of excitement, but spiked tails thrashing around an exposed Graha, well I just worry a little. On a more positive note, assuming their respective tails are reasonably prehensile, are they able to...intertwine?

Oh wow, I got lots of different Mimble asks!! Yay I’m excited to get so many good questions about Yume!! I’ll list them by topic so that it’s kinda easier to read. Also, PLEASE heed the content/trigger warnings on certain sections ahead!

The Scar

Content Warning: Ritualistic Suicide/Seppuku, Attempted Suicide, Emotional Abuse, Slight Depictions of Self-Harm, and Major Surgery; Please skip to the next section if any of this might trigger you!

Yume’s scar is her biggest insecurity, and a sign of her disgrace and shame. Yume rarely talks about the scar, and most people don’t have a clue what it’s about, and only a handful actually know the story behind it.

The scar is self inflicted, as Yume was in the middle of committing seppuku, a ritualistic suicide that was reserved only for samurai in order to regain their honor. Yume had disobeyed her father and refused to marry who her father chose for her to marry. She told her father that she couldn’t live with the shame, and so she prepared to take her own life.

I’ll try to not be too graphic, but seppuku is when the samurai cuts open their belly, and so Yume had sliced open the right side of her abdomen to right before her belly button, until her father arrived and stopped her. He ordered his healers to begin healing her injury immediately so that she didn’t die from the open wound.

Yume’s father then told her that he would not allow her to commit seppuku and that she must live with her shame instead. Instead of death, she would be banished from her clan and her home, forced to live as a ronin, a samurai with no master, for the rest of her days.

As soon as she was able to be moved, which took about a few days, her mentor Auron and a handful of his samurai took Yume to Kugane, as he knew that she would be safe from her father’s men there.

Yume wouldn’t be fully healed for about a few weeks, and it still remains a problem for her now, because any new injury to her abdomen could reopen her wounds externally or internally. In the future, Yume almost dies for this very reason. Her wounds are reopened while she is giving birth to her daughter Hikari, and as a result, she needs to have a full hysterectomy.

Of the handful of people that know about her life, her ex fiancé Cid was told details over time, slowly getting the full story as she learned to trust him.

G’raha, however, figured it out as soon as he saw her scar while they had a vacation day in Costa del Sol. He had read a lot about the samurai of the Far East, their history and their cultural practices. So as soon as he saw the scar and it’s location, he put two and two together and told Yume that he knows what it is. Yume confessed everything to him in that moment, and she broke down in front of him, but G’raha comforted her. After this trip to Costa del Sol, and how they both told each other so much of their lives, they realize that they have fallen in love with each other, but they don’t tell each other this for a long time.

Now, Yume has grown to accept her scar as an important part of her. She has learned to be proud of surviving her attempted seppuku, and it sure helps that G’raha tends to kiss her scar and tells her that she’s beautiful as she is, scar and all.

The tattoo

If her scar is one half of Yume’s journey from the Daimyo’s daughter to Ronin, then her tattoo is the other half. Here’s a representation of what her tattoo looks like:

Yume got her Phoenix tattoo on her back at the age of 19, after her banishment from her home and her clan, and it symbolizes her “rebirth” from the daimyo’s daughter destined to follow in her father’s footsteps, to a ronin, no master and finally having found the freedom that she always craved. In another way, it could also represent the “death” of her childhood and her “rebirth” as an adult woman who now must write her own story.

The imagery of fire and birds always resonated with Yume, as fire was also a favorite symbol of the Aino clan as a whole, and Yume’s favorite animals are birds of all kinds, so she naturally always loved the myth of the Phoenix, or the “firebird” as she knew it as.

Also, you are correct in assuming that there’s a sort of stigma associated with tattoos in Hingan culture (in fact this is true from Japanese history, not just making it up). It’s called Irezumi, and though many foreigners would find the traditional tattooing style to be beautiful, in Hingashi it is a sign of being a criminal, and at times it was even used as a form of punishment for prisoners, so Yume could never have a tattoo as long as she was the daughter of a daimyo. But when she was banished from her home and her clan, she found the tattoos to be beautiful and she wanted it to symbolize her new life as a ronin. And though she knows her family would not have approved, she still loves her tattoo and G’raha has always found her tattoo to be beautiful and a turn on.

Yume’s Humor

Yume absolutely does have a sense of humor, although I wouldn’t necessarily call her a very humorous person herself. She tends to laugh at goofy or cute things, like when Krile was teasing Alphinaud when they were reunited or when Urianger fell into the water after his waterwalking spell failed. One reason why she fell in love with G’raha was that he always made her laugh, in a good way. He would usually go out of his way to make her laugh, as Yume tends to try to hold her laughter in.

Why does Yume try to hold in her laughter and tends to not make jokes herself, you ask? Well, call it an old habit that has been hard for her to break. Usually bursting out into fits of laughter was really impolite for her to do while her father attended to his political business or while she was training, so she learned to keep her laughter to herself. Though she is better about making jokes now, and she tends to tease those close to her.

Poetry

Yume’s style of poetry is more free verse than anything else, with rhyme, repetition, and lots of imagery and allusion. She can write haikus and other traditional forms of Far Eastern poetry, but she tends to not want to be “held prisoner” so to speak with a specific form. The closest description I’d call her poetry is that if you put it to music, her poems could very easily be songs in their own right.

Yume is very guarded when it comes to her poetry, and very few people even know that she is a poet, let alone seen her work. She has written a LOT about G’raha though, especially when he had locked himself in the Tower and writing poetry about him was one thing that helped her to cope with her grief. Yume showed G’raha all the poems that she wrote about him once they were reunited in the First, and most recently she wrote a poem for him that she actually had the courage to read at their wedding.

Yume’s Tail

Content Warning: Slight NSFW, not too graphic, but please skip if you don’t want to read!

Well, G’raha would thank you for your concern about his exposure to Yume’s tail, but he would say that it is a hazard that he gladly accepts as a possibility, yet that has never swayed him away from his lovemaking with Yume.

So in actuality, Yume’s tail is possibly one of the least hazardous tails an Au Ra could have, as she only has a few spikes near the base of the tail, and the rest of it is very smooth. See picture below:

Really, the only time that Yume’s spikes on her tail are a concern is if G’raha is behind her, and so Yume either holds it up and away from him, or G’raha will hold her tail himself, while gently tugging on it, as this is super pleasurable for her. And yes, they also tend to intertwine their tails, or they wrap their tails around another body part, like an arm or leg. Their tails intertwined also happens very often both in and outside of the bedroom, and it’s just one way that they show affection to one another.

Thank you so much for the asks as always @mimble-sparklepudding!! 💖💖💖

I’m so glad that you’ve been patient with me in answering your asks, as I tend to get busy with taking care of my son and I can’t always get to them right away. I also do my own research and I tend to double and triple check the cultural and historical context of everything before I publish my answers, so that also makes me take longer in answering.

#asks and replies #mimble asks #yume aino #oc: paint it black #yume x g'raha #ship: evermore

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electricbluebutterflies · 10 months

Note

LOVE your Joel and Tess drabbles!!! If I can prompt (unsure of your comfort levels with smut so please pick what you’re cool with!):

SFW: “If you had asked me to stay, I would’ve.”

NSFW: dirty talk + overstimulation

Decided to do one of the nsfw prompts... this is unusually graphic by my standards and I kinda love it. Cross-posted on ao3.

Fuck lockdown.

Tess may be a little more prone to questionably legal activity than most people, but she’s not actively suicidal and there are worse things in the world than being stuck in the apartment with her partner for however long this lasts. Two people who are attracted to each other and have basically nothing to do, on day two in a fairly small space…

If this doesn’t make him fall completely in love with her, she thinks, nothing will.

Not that she’s thinking about love, at the moment. Not that she’s thinking about much at all right now, spread out on the floor, thankful that this has all happened at a relatively pleasant time of year to be stuck with closed windows and no real idea what’s going on outside and-

“You’re wandering again.”

Spread out naked on the floor, her partner in similar state next to her, one of his hands playing with one of her breasts without any real intent. Circumstances as they currently are, sex is an easy way to kill time; they are now both well aware exactly how long his refractory period is at this point in their lives, and all the other mildly annoying complications of getting older, and-

“Fix it. Distract me.”

He moves onto his side and gets his other hand between her thighs where she’s still somehow aching. “This what you want?”

Midafternoon tired as she is, Tess suddenly has an idea. “You trust me?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Keep touching me until I’m dry, then get your mouth down there and fix it. See how much I can take. Don’t… don��t stop, whatever I do, okay?”

“How about skipping to that second part? No reason to waste you like that.”

Like she’d ever say no to that. She likes when she can be a little more passive, lie back and let him take care of her – they both run switchy, her own dominant streak usually just vocal enough to win, but there are moments she doesn’t want that. Why keep a lover if she has to do all the work all the time? Why-

She remembers the first time this happened, something like ten years ago now, the pleasant realization that she’d gone and gotten herself a man who looks pretty on his knees for her. She doesn’t know if Joel’s always been like this or if she just brings it out, but she can’t remember him ever saying no when she’s asked, and he even initiates sometimes, wants to fade away a long day in her sweetness, wants-

He’s good, too. The familiarity of her body helps, she knows, and the frequency of this act, and the scratchy kisses all down her torso before he finally gets where he’s going. They could play that game too later, maybe, see if he can mark up all of her skin, she does like that, she does-

“You sure about this?”

“You could say no.”

“To you? Never.”

That’s enough to make her comfortable, enough for her to close her eyes and let it happen. They’re bored, and her body is still in good condition, still able to reach the edge quickly enough and then… stay there, for a while. When given opportunity and permission and time, Joel has a tendency to drag things out, and she’d basically told him to see how much her body can take, and-

She’s not sure if the ruin is intentional, but he at least realizes what he’s done and crawls back halfway up her torso before she can even be mad about it. “That what you want?”

Tess takes a moment to weigh her options. She could tell him no, tell him to go slow and gentle with her for as long as it takes him to get hard again, and he’d listen. She could stop this entirely and he’d listen to that too. But there’s such light in his eyes right now, and that’s so rare, and-

“Yeah. See how many of those I can take.”

She makes herself still for it as he goes back to going down on her, tries to be all cute and cooperative like she almost never is, she trusts him she trusts this she trusts-

“Play with your tits,” he says after the next ruin, this time at least having the sense to stay where he is. “Wanna see what that does.”

As if she has the focus, she’s tempted to hiss, but rolling her nipples between her fingertips is low-effort and-

For that, she gets an actual orgasm, and he draws that out too until her lines blur, until there is nothing but warmth and this beautiful man who will not stop sucking her clit and-

Maybe it’s multiple bursts at once, for all she can tell. Her body is at its limit, but she’d made herself clear earlier and the attention does not stop, and this is why she’s territorial, because sometimes she can talk him into absolutely wrecking her, sometimes-

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says at some point – time has lost all meaning – as he moves to curl up with her. “That felt like… you count?”

“Lost track. You’re that good. You need…?”

“Think you need a moment first.”

“I’ve got other parts,” she murmurs, putting one of her hands on his thigh. “And we have time…”

“We have time,” he repeats as his fingers curl around her wrist and move her hand just slightly. “Use it.”

#ebf writes fic #joel x tess #queue

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 2 years

Text

Kamukura’s Pain: Part 1

//WARNING: This chapter contains elements of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Graphic Hallucinations and Attempted Suicide. Please proceed with this in mind.

...

*Uchui lays on his bed, fiddling around with a Rubix Cube and tossing it in the air every now and then.

...

*His lab is significantly more empty than it was previously. A few tools and gadgets remain, however...

Ngh...

[Flashback]

Wh-What are you doing!? Hey! Don’t touch that!

This room has been declared a safety hazard.

*Future Foundation workers, headed by Taka and Munakata, begin to clear it out. They casually lump backs and machines out of the office.

Stop that right now! This is very sensitive equipment!

You heard him! Be careful!

NO! I mean put it back!

*Despite Uchui’s protests, the Foundation continues to clear out his lab.

What’s the meaning of this!? What are you doing!?

Apologies Mr Porosen, but...

*Taka hands Uchui a document.

The grant agreement you signed to own this lab has strict health and safety provisions.

And according to records, what happened before was not your first violation, but it WAS your biggest.

I will not deny that, but it should be noted down that those were very quickly excused.

By the Future Foundation. And the reason why they were is because at that time, we didn’t have enemies as dangerous as Organization Zetsubou.

But now we do. Hence why your equipment is being confiscated.

Do not worry. We aren’t legally authorized to take all of it, otherwise you won’t be able to do your work.

...But-!

Listen!

*sigh*

This was under direct order from Chihiro Fujisaki. Do you honestly think he WANTS to do this?

He cannot prioritize his friendships over the safety of everyone else in this facility, and he’s fully aware of such a fact. He’s trying to help you, and trying to help everyone else in this facility.

I’m sorry. But we cannot have a repeat of that.

...

You’ll get these back as soon as Zetsubou are in custody.

...Let’s move!

*After taking a fair amount of Uchui’s gear, Taka and Munakata, as well as their soldiers, vacate the lab.

...

*Uchui puts the Rubix Cube down and goes over to his bathroom.

...

*He reaches into his toothbrush cabinet and pulls out the mini EMP and the forged security badge.

Thank Christ I finished recalibrating this thing before they took away all my stuff...

I cannot draw attention to myself. I cannot draw any more attention to myself. I’ve already caused this much of a problem.

???: Hahahaha...

...!

Who the hell is there!?

*Uchui hears a noise and lurches to his feet, looking around frantically for the source of the voice.

???: This is hilarious...For once in your life, your efforts are actually being noticed and recognized by other people...and it’s when you want it LEAST. That’s karma right there.

!!??

*Uchui slams shut his toothbrush cabinet and glares into the mirror on the other side.

... ...

*He sees his own reflection, but nothing more. He turns around to look back towards his lab.

Someone’s having a laugh here.

*But when he turns back towards the mirror.

Oh, you know I always love to have a laugh with you...

!!???

*His reflection starts talking to him.

Wh-WHAT DO YOU WANT!?

Aw, come on Chewie...

Can’t spare a little time for dear ol’ Uncle?

F-For you? None!

Why...Why does even your GHOST have to bother me!? I want you out of my life!

You know full well you can never cut us out of your life, Uchui. If you could...

You wouldn’t be feeling this sense of responsibility to appease us...would you? Kehahaha!

Ngh...

Uchui...Keep going...!

Ah-AAAH!

*The lab around Uchui begins to shake, books falling off the shelves, light’s flickering on and off.

Oh God...! OH GOD!

*Desperate and terrified, Uchui rushes out of the bathroom and bursts through his lab door.

AAGH!?

Going somewhere...?

HEEGH!

Oohoho! It’s better be to the roof! I’d LOVE to see him go splat on the ground!

NO! NO NO NO!

*The hallway around Uchui begins to crumble into nothing, and everything turns red. More and more horrific faces appear in front of him.

*pant!* *pant!* *pant!*

*Uchui arrives at the building elevator, jumps inside it, and frantically presses the buttons. He breathes a sigh of relief, thinking he’s finally escaped the madness.

???: Uchui...

....!

*He slowly turns around after hearing a voice in his ear.

...We’re...always...watching...!

GAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

*Uchui starts frantically banging on the door of the elevator, desperate to escape. The doors open early, and he screams, running down the hallway.

!!!???

Hehehehehe...HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

AAAAAHAAAAAGGHH!!

*He is chased suddenly by a monster that has his head, but retains only bits and pieces of his body, back down the hallway back into the elevator. He frantically presses a random button desperate to run away.

DIIIIIIIEEEE!!

*SLAM!*

!!!

*The doors close just in time, and a panicked Uchui is taken all the way up to the top floor.

BAGH!

*Uchui bursts out onto the roof of the Future Foundation building, finally retaining some fresh air.

*PANT!* *PANT!* *PANT!* *PANT!* *PANT!*

???: Done running?

...

I can’t do it, can I? I just can’t escape you.

JUST LIKE I CAN’T ESCAPE OUR FAMILY!

*Uchui turns around viciously and comes face to face with...

...

I am, now and forever, a man of science, but there have been so many times in my sorry excuse of a life, when I just wanted to scream out to the gods, or to you, or to ANYBODY who would ACTUALLY LISTEN and ask them WHY!?

WHY did I have to go through so much pain!? Just because I’m YOUR Grandson!?

I apologize Uchui...but it’s what comes with being a Kamukura...

I don’t want to live this kind of life where I’m constantly under your control!

...Then there’s a solution...

*The other hallucinations start showing up.

Jump...

...Huh...?

Jump...Jump... Jump... Jump... Jump... Jump... Jump...

Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump!

...

*Uchui turns round and only now realizes where he is, at the very top of the Future Foundation building.

Hickory, dickory, dockery door! Go splat on the floor! Come on everybody, say it loud! Uchui’s finally gonna make us proud! Hickory, dickory, dockery door! Go splat on the floor! Come on everybody, say it loud! Uchui’s finally gonna make us proud!

...

*Uchui instinctively grabs hold of the railing and begins to climb over it, staring down at the ground thousands of feet below.

JUMP JUMP JUMPITY JUMP! JUMP JUMP JUMPITY JUMP! Hickory, dickory, dockery door! Go splat on the floor! Come on everybody, say it loud! Uchui’s finally gonna make us proud! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF! KILL YOURSELF!

Make us all proud...!

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOHOOHOOOO!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHAHAAAAAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH!!!