#But it's actually fucking horrifying. That WAS the entire series.
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NEVER STOP!!! everytime I get mad over DOTC I just come onto your page and read your Gray Wing slander and immediately feel better, thanks muchly! 😌✨️
I am but a humble DOTC Slander ranger, riding across the sunlit horizon with a big iron on my hip, putting every hater's formless frustration into the words you felt but did not realize how to say ✨️
#If there's anything positive to say about it#it's that it's at least a SPECTACULAR kind of bad#It's bad in the kind of way that makes you realize what is so bad about other entries in WC#Like the rosetta stone of things wrong with WC#In no other arc is the ableism misogyny and abuse apologia SO apparent. SO plain to see#And of course your mind's immediately drawn to Clear or Tom because they're so obviously awful as characters.#But even the characters they think are GOOD and frame as RIGHTEOUS are revealing!!#Sometimes even moreso!!#though to be clear I end up biting at Gray a lot more often than Clear because he's awful in a less immediately obvious way#but I think clear is literally THE worst character they have ever put in WC. It's not a contest. It's not even a consideration in my mind.#because at the end of the day. Clear is WHY the arc is so bad.#Gray is defending him and doing a shit ton of abuse apologia and generally being insufferable#but as a tool he is being used in the exact way they mean to use him.#And his USE is to SUPPORT CLEAR.#He may not be the main POV but the arc is ABOUT Clear. It's HIS story. EVERYTHING that happens is supposed to be for HIM.#I haven't gotten to Gray's death scene in my reread yet but I should actually reblog it over here on the main when I do#Because it says it. It says it explicitly. That Gray only ever did anything because Clear pushed or bullied him to action.#And the narrative tries to frame that like a sweet and sentimental thing#But it's actually fucking horrifying. That WAS the entire series.#Clear pushing and bullying others until life was worse for everyone. And then they thank him for it.#bone babble#dotc hate
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Utterly Bullshit Puzzles For Your Dungeon
There are two guards. One always tells the truth. One always lies. Neither know what's behind the doors they're guarding. Both doors lead to a trash compacter.
Three Chests. One hisses and contains deadly gas, one is clearly airtight and contains deadly gas, one is unmarked and contains deadly gas. If the players ignore the chests, both exits from the room (including the one they came from) contain deadly gas.
Three potions. A complex riddle gives you a series of clues to figure out which one is poison, which one is a buff and which one is just coloured water. Actually they're all glued to the table and, while you were faffing around with the riddle, thirty thousand angry orcs walked in.
A series of levers which cause the door to open or close to a different amount. You think you have to flip the levers in order to open it the right amount. Actually, the door opens whenever it damn well feels like it, and the levers are unrelated.
The Horrifying Monster is immune to all damage unless they're first stabbed by an obsidian dagger. What the players don't know is that "obsidian dagger" is actually a mistranslation of "gold needle" and no-one has any way of finding that out.
The locked door is in a room full of keys, all of which are slightly different. Actually, all the keys are the soul cages of never-before-mentioned powerful liches, and if you touch any of them that lich teleports in to kill you.
Pile of treasure that is marked with "those who touch this will be betrayed by those they least suspect". When a PC takes it, the GM throat-punches that PC's player.
The BBEG can't be defeated. That's it, that's the entire puzzle. Good fucking luck.
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bite the bullet
joel miller x f!reader
rating: explicit, 18+ mdni
summary: two idiots finally bite the bullet and admit how they feel.
warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, age gap [20 years], angst, miscommunication, a meddling Tommy Miller, soft sleepy sex, oral [f], unprotected piv, masturbation [f], rimming, sixty-nine, both of them are assholes for a minute, resolved emotional tension.
word count: 9.4k [i got carried away sorry!]
series masterlist | masterlist
this is part four of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: one, two, three.
Everything was wet.
Your feet squelched against the ground as you moved, little flicks of water splashing up against your shins with every step. Inside waterlogged shoes your socks clung uncomfortably to your skin.
Tommy was crouched underneath your sink, inspecting the u-bend of the pipe there, his lower half damp from the water that covered the floor of your kitchen.
“It’s definitely comin’ from in here,” his muffled voice came, and you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face in exasperation. “I can stop it, but it’s gonna take some time for the place to dry out. I’d say you’d better clear out for a few days, leave a few windows open.”
You’d had a nice day. A lovely day, even. And you’d been looking forward to curling up with a whiskey and a good book before bed. But upon returning home from the greenhouse, you’d been horrified to find the entrance of your home covered in a thin layer of water. Splashing down the hall, you’d discovered that the entire place was wet; a shiny film of liquid coating anything that touched the ground. The wooden floorboards were soaked to the bone with cold water. A fucking flood. Thankfully Tommy was right, and you trusted that the August humidity would naturally dry it out with enough time.
“I can’t just stay here? I didn’t think it was too bad,” you lied. “Could lay down some towels.”
Tommy laughed under the sink. “You know you’ll get sick if you’re sleeping around all this water – towels or no towels.”
“Okay,” you acquiesced, gazing at the floor glumly. “Okay, yeah, I suppose I’ll uh… I’ll get some stuff together.”
“Joel would take you,” his said, and you snapped back to reality, staring at his back while he worked. You could practically hear the grin in his voice. When you didn’t respond, his head reappeared, and he looked at you curiously, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. “You and Joel are pals, right? Pals help each other out.”
Pals, you thought cynically. That’s one word for it.
Two weeks had slowly passed since the Peterson incident, and you’d only seen Tommy’s older brother a handful of times. There was still a tense energy between the two of you, so you’d been keeping your distance a little, allowing things to cool off. Bumping into each other here and there, dinner on the same table at the hall… but no alone time. No real time that would leave you two open to actually talking about it. That didn’t mean it didn’t play on your mind, though. Oh boy did it. In fact, most days you’d catch yourself gazing into a pot plant, thinking about that night. The way he’d taken you, made you tell him the details about Peterson, the way he’d showed you he fucking owned you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the way it had made you feel, and so you avoided it, even though your chest ached with the Joel-sized hole his absence had left in it. At least you weren’t so stubborn that you couldn’t admit to yourself how much you missed him.
Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Tommy gave a polite shrug, smirking at you. Testing you. A huff escaped your lips, and you broke eye contact, stretching out your shoulder. “Yeah, alright, I’ll ask him,” you agreed begrudgingly, brain whirring trying to come up with excuses. “It’s late though, and he might not want me there.”
“It’s not that late, but sure,” he chuckled knowingly, going back to work on the pipe. “When hell freezes over and Joel says no to you, you let me know.”
An hour later, you were on your best friend’s porch, a bag slung over your arm, hesitating with your knuckle raised in the air. Taking a deep breath and running through what you were going to say, you finally willed yourself to rap your fist twice against the wood.
After a moment, the door swung open to reveal Joel, in a soft wrinkled t-shirt.
An easy, involuntary smile spread across your face upon seeing him. His beard was a little longer than he usually kept it, greys sparkling through the dark hair that framed his mouth so handsomely. He had clearly been settling down for the night, and he looked oh so cosy dressed in his sleep clothes.
“Hey man,” you offered up a sheepish smile.
He looked appropriately surprised to see you, considering you certainly hadn’t been knocking on his door at any point in the past fortnight. One of his eyebrows hitched upward, and he eyed the bag over your shoulder warily. “You skippin’ town or something? Who’d you piss off this time?”
You rolled your eyes and readjusted the duffel. “You gonna let me inside? This thing’s kind of heavy.”
He stepped back into the entryway with a grunt, allowing you to breeze past him and dump the bag onto the ground with a low thud. “Pipe under my sink is busted. Flooded the whole place today – Tommy said I should clear out for a day or two.”
He hummed, narrowed eyes raking over your face. “Oh yeah? So where you gonna go?” he teased, and relief rushed through your veins like warm water as you recognised the smirk threatening to take over his face.
You gave him a small laugh and sighed, holding your arms out in mock surrender. “Come on, Miller,” you said. “Let me crash here – I’ll owe you one.”
“Owe me one, huh?” his eyes shone with mischief. “Well I like the sound of that.” An odd, twisting sensation rippled through your stomach and you sucked your lips into your mouth, nodding slowly.
“Sure,” you retorted. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.” When the words left your lips you both stilled, staring at each other warily.
He hummed, eyes darkening a fraction. “You’re playin’ with fire,” is all he said, before bending down to pick the bag up off the ground and ushering you towards the stairs.
You wondered off ahead of him, and when you reached the landing you veered right, pushing open the door to the spare room. He didn’t follow you in immediately, instead pausing in the doorway with a frown plastered across his face. You hadn’t thought about where you’d be sleeping until the second you reached the top of the stairs, but you knew this was the right decision. Sharing a bed with Joel for a few days? Probably not a good idea. Unless of course, that was going to be how you repaid your debt…Thankfully, or unfortunately, he didn’t push it, dropping the bag gently in the corner of the room.
“Hope Ellie won’t be bothered I’m here for a few days,” you thought aloud. The tone noticeably shifted, and you almost at how Joel seemed to deflate.
He leant an arm against the doorframe and sighed. “She ain’t spendin’ much time in the house these days,” he admitted quietly. “Stays in the bungalow or goes out. I doubt you’ll even see her.”
You hesitated for a second before asking, “Have you two spoken much lately?”
He scratched his chin for a moment. “You know the kid,” he shrugged. “She’s stubborn. M’tryin’ not to push it.”
“It’ll be okay, Joel,” you offered softly. “She’ll come around.”
He assessed you silently, eyes flitting down your body before resting on your face once again, and then he stepped back into the hall. Coughing awkwardly, he raised a hand in a sort of farewell, and said, “Well, uh, you know where everything is. I’m gonna… I was gonna head to bed, I guess.”
“Okay,” you nodded, watching as he turned to head toward his room.
“Hey, Joel, wait,” you called, and he turned, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite place. I miss you, you wanted to say. I miss you, and I’m sorry things are off between us, and I wish we could forget it all and go back to normal, and I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. “Thank you,” you said instead, voice soft. “I really appreciate this.”
The look in his eyes dimmed a little but he offered up a smile. He nodded once, said, “Glad to have you here,” and then closed his bedroom door, and leaving you alone with your thoughts.
After showering and unpacking the few things you brought along, you curled up in the foreign bed. The mattress was soft enough though, and the sheets smelled like the soap Joel used. Your body ached from a long day of work, muscles tense and wired from hauling heavy pots around under the sun. Soon enough, you began to relax enough to drift off to sleep. Only a few hours into the night though, your dreams were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps padding across the landing. A beam of soft yellow light was shone into the room, painting the inside of your eyelids orange. Cracking an eye open, you saw that the door was ajar, and a tall figure was peering in.
“Joel?” you asked groggily, dragging a knuckle over your eyes.
“Yeah, it’s just me,” his deep voice came, but he made no move to enter the room. “Sorry to wake you.”
“Are you okay?”
“Can’t sleep,” he said softly, and your heart clenched.
Pulling the blankets open on the empty side of the bed, you didn’t even think before you said, “Get in.”
Your head fell heavily into the pillows, and sleep tried to pull you back under as you listened to Joel shuffle across the room and slide into the bed beside you. For a moment, he just laid there, a sizeable gap between you on the mattress. And then his warm, firm body was pressing up against your back, his large palm sliding over your hip to rest on your stomach and guide you back against his chest. His scent overwhelmed you, hints of mint and soap and pine tickling your nose, and fuck you had missed him. it was so familiar, and yet your body tingled as if it was the first time he’d ever laid a hand on you. Through the haze that settled over your sleep addled brain, you could feel him, stiff against your thigh.
“Jesus,” you teased drowsily, throwing caution to the wind by rubbing yourself back against him. “Were you having a dream about me or something?”
His nose traced a long down the back of your neck and you fought off a shiver. “Always dream about you.” If you weren’t so tired, that probably would’ve garnered a bigger reaction from you. But as it were, you just brought a hand down to rest over his on your stomach and gripped his fingers softly. “Was thinkin’ bout you being so close, yet still so far. Just down the hall, sleepin’ in my sheets…”
You hummed, warmth flooding your abdomen as he nudged his hips forward, rutting himself against you. His hand drifted out from under yours to slide up underneath your shirt, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below your breast.
“Joel,” you murmured, eyelids heavy.
He hummed eagerly, planting a soft kiss underneath your ear.
“I‘m so tired,” you said regretfully. “It’s been a long day – can hardly keep m’eyes open.”
“Let me help you fall asleep,” is all he said, hand now freely roaming over your chest. His thumb lightly brushed the firm peak of your nipple and your whole body shuddered. “Just relax.”
You were vaguely aware of him pulling the covers off you and moving down the bed, dragging soft kisses down your stomach, before dragging your underwear down your legs. Slumping into the soft bed, you allowed your eyes to flutter closed.
Gentle, reverent kisses were pressed over your hip bones as he settled between your legs, pulling one of your thighs up to rest over his shoulder. His long fingers rubbed over the muscles in your leg, pressing down gently when he found knots, pulling deep sighs of contentment out of you.
“That feels nice,” you whispered into the darkness, and you could’ve sworn you felt him grin against your hip.
When his nose dragged through the dark hair on your mound you twitched slightly, body waking up a little at the sensation. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and you relaxed again, humming lowly as his pressed a kiss against the inner most point of your thigh.
It felt like hours passed with him between your legs. At first you allowed yourself to slip in and out of near sleep, eyes closed as lax puffs of air escaped your mouth while his tongue dipped gently between your folds, giving you soft lazy strokes that warmed your insides. When the first bit of slick began to seep out of you, he groaned gratefully, licking and sucking at your entrance, exulting in your taste.
It felt like you were dreaming. Laying pliant on the bed, you were fully at his mercy, allowing him to move your legs anyway he wanted to give himself better access. You could vaguely hear him murmuring against your skin, but couldn’t make out the words over your own sighs, smiling sleepily as his tongue lapped against you. He worked slowly, and you realised that it was as much for his enjoyment as it was for your own. You knew by that point how much Joel enjoyed going down on you. He had told you as much on multiple occasions; how he’d love to spend hours with his face trapped between your thighs. But he’d never had the chance, or the patience, to really do it.
The sounds of his enjoyment vibrated against your core, echoing through the room around you. The way he fucking moaned into your cunt never failed to drive you crazy, but in that moment you just smiled at the sound, enjoying how peaceful it was, how sweet.
Every now and then you’d lazily blink your eyes open and look down, expecting that at any moment he’d pull away, be over it. But he never did. Every time you looked his eyes were closed, hands gripping your thighs softly, thumbs stroking rhythmically against your skin as content breaths rushed out of his nose, and you’d close your eyes again, the dark image of him scorched into the inside of your eyelids, never to be forgotten.
You started to feel more awake when he finally gave his undivided attention to the achingly sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your core. Moving painfully slow, he glided his firm tongue across your clit, switching it up between swiping back and forth across it and then circling it.
“Oh,” you murmured lowly, voice hoarse from lack of use, but you couldn’t help the soft exclamation as your hips shifted upwards, suddenly searching for more. He didn’t change a thing, pace never increasing or slowing down, and it was perfect.
Your orgasm washed over you in gentle waves. Joel’s tongue swirled slow, gentle circles around your clit and your thighs tensed around his head, fingers reaching down to softly rake through his curls. He hummed happily, tongue lathing against you, enjoying every second of your release. Only pausing once your body stopped twitching and the muscles in your thighs relaxed against him, before kissing way up your stomach, your neck, under he was holding himself over you.
Eyes still closed, your hands drifted to the back of his neck and you pulled him down, his weight crushing against you but you didn’t care. Yours lips met tentatively, and for a moment that was all it was. A soft, gentle kiss. And then you felt him, straining against his briefs, pressed between your thighs, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. It was messy and slow, tongues tangling together, teeth knocking awkwardly, and you found yourself smiling into his mouth. It should have unnerved you. Should’ve been enough to make you stop, turn your head away and make him fuck you rough so you would forget how intensely intimate the moment felt. But you didn’t.
“You should sleep,” he murmured against your lips, pulling his hips back a little so his erection wasn’t so obvious.
“You should come inside me,” you whispered back, reaching down to grip the band of his underwear and tug them down over his hips. He groaned and kissed you again before reaching down to free himself from the confines of his underwear.
No other words were exchanged as he adjusted himself, and then he was pressing into you, his needy moans spilling out against your neck while your hand snuck underneath his shirt, fingernails gliding down his back as he filled you completely.
“God, I missed you,” he choked out, voice cracking. You whimpered softly. “You’re so wet.”
“Made me feel so good, Joel,” you preened, kissing the side of his head.
“Yeah?” he pulled his face out of your neck to look at you, and you nodded, staring at him through bleary eyes. Joel kissed you again. A long, yearning kiss that made your heart throb, and it didn’t take long until he was falling apart on top of you, shaking against your arms that wrapped around him, held him against your chest. You whispered praises in his ear as he came, hips grinding into yours, pushing himself so deep inside that it had you gasping into his mouth. It was so unlike any other time you’d ever slept with him, and alarm bells rang somewhere far in the deep recess of your brain, but you ignored them. You’d missed each other, and you’d both earned a little softness after the time apart. And so the two of you fell asleep like that; tangled in each other’s arms, with him still inside you.
You woke up to the sun streaming in through the window. The light was harsh, and you cursed yourself for going to sleep without drawing the curtains. You went to sit up in the bed but stopped suddenly, realising how hot you were. With a soft start, you glanced down and understanding jolted through you like a flash of lightning. Joel’s house, you remembered; you were at Joel’s house. But what you hadn’t expected to find was Joel still in the bed, arms coiled around you like wire while he snored quietly in your ear. For as many times the two of you had slept together, neither of you had ever slept over. It was an unspoken rule, and one that had never been difficult to follow. But he’d broken it… or you’d both broken it, maybe. Keeping your body as still as possible, you found yourself breathing deeply, trying to maintain the allusion of still being asleep to avoid rousing him from his slumber. Frustratingly, your heart pounded in your chest, brain zeroing in on every part of your body that touched his.
His soft lips brushed the back of your neck, heavy breaths puffing against your skin. A solid knee was wedged between your legs, one hand lazily gripping your breast. The insides of your thighs were sticky where his come had leaked out of you overnight, and your eyes widened at the sensation.
What surprised you the most wasn’t that you didn’t hate waking up with him beside you. No, what surprised you most was that you did like it. In fact, you found yourself longing to relax into his arms and go back to sleep. But common sense reared its head, and you slowly slipped out of his grasp, moving slowly so as not to wake him while you dragged yourself out of the bed. Staring down at Joel, a pang of fondness rush through your chest. Messy curls were strewn across his forehead, plump lips pushed out into a pout as he breathed deeply, hand resting on the empty bed where you had just laid. His breathing hitched momentarily, and you froze, realising how odd it would be for him to wake up and catch you standing there naked, staring. Trying not to give it another thought, you quietly collected some clothes from your bag, and slipped out of the room to start your day.
Hours passed in the greenhouse. You distracted yourself with cucumber seeds and tomato plants, pushing Joel out of your mind as you worked under the sweltering sun. Underneath the glass roof of the nursery, the heat multiplied, and by the time your shift was over you were covered in sweat, shirt ticking uncomfortably tight to your back. You stopped by at the community hall for dinner and ate alone, your brain a whirlwind of thoughts of Joel, Joel, Joel. You couldn’t shake the feeling that had lingered in your bones all day; the aching desire to have stayed in bed with him, to have relaxed into his arms and cuddled him for the rest of the morning. Your best friend, for fuck’s sake.
“Christ,” you mumbled aloud through a mouthful of food, rolling your eyes at yourself.
It felt like you were going crazy, but the worst part was understanding that this must’ve been how he’d been feeling for weeks already.
I’ve never asked you for anything. Not for anything more than what we’ve been doin’, never pushed you for more.
That’s what he’d said, two weeks ago, the day he found out about Peterson. The words played in your head like a mantra. Words that you had firmly avoided bringing up, ones you’d never pushed for an explanation about. You’d chosen to sweep them under the rug, and yet, as hard as you tried, you couldn’t fucking forget them.
By the time you returned to his house you discovered him sitting on the couch downstairs, engrossed in a book. It was the picture of domesticity. The sweet scent of vanilla floated through the air towards you, and you noted the small candle burning on the table beside him.
Staying in Joel’s home, even for just one night, you’d noticed so much more about it than ever before. There was something interesting to look at everywhere you turned, and sweet-scented candles were just the tip of the iceberg. He left random objects littered across countertops, like little treasures for you to stop and inspect during your travels throughout the house. Wood that he’d whittled into interesting shapes, books that he’d read the first few pages of and then abandoned, countless mugs in odd places with dark brown coffee stains at the bottom of them. It was homey, and warm, and subconsciously you found yourself enjoying the insight into his most private space – into the things he did when he was truly alone.
Joel hadn’t noticed you come in, so you seized the opportunity to watch him from the doorway for a moment. He was wearing his comfortable clothes again, and a thin set of reading glasses were perched on the scarred bridge of his nose. A quick flash of heat tore through your stomach. You’d never seen him wear those before, and it had you stumped. The glasses, paired with the salt and pepper through his beard and hair, reminded you of his age. Twenty years older than you, and still the most handsome man you knew.
You finally broke the silence, announcing yourself by asking, “What’re you reading?”
Joel’s head snapped up, and he stared at you over the top of his glasses. Shutting the book quickly, he straightened up on the couch. “Uh, Brave New World,” he lied, flipping the book so you couldn’t see the cover.
You hummed, unconvinced, and bit down on your bottom lip to hide a smirk. Tommy had told you once before that Joel was a sucker for gothic romance novels, but you’d never truly believed him until that moment. From where you stood, you recognised the tattered copy of Wuthering Heights that had gone missing from your bedroom a few months prior.
A flush rose in his cheeks and he coughed awkwardly, picking up a mug that you hadn’t noticed on the floor by his feet. It was cute; a little beige ceramic thing, with an owl painted on it.
“You see the patrol roster for tomorrow?” he spoke into the mug, swiftly changing the subject.
“I did,” you murmured. What you didn’t acknowledge, was that you’d also seen Peterson and Davis’ names on the list for the morning patrol. “Should be nice. We haven’t gone to the ski lodge in a while.”
A vivid memory of you two fucking up there raced through your mind, and a low heat simmered across your face as you remembered Jesse and Dina almost catching you once. Shaking the thought from your mind, you looked at him again to find him gripping the mug tightly, lips pursed in thought.
“We haven’t,” he agreed lowly, and the corner of his mouth twitched a little. “You haven’t been gettin’ called outside the gates much at all these days.”
This is it, you thought hungrily. This is the moment he tells you how he can’t wait to fuck you there tomorrow while you’re supposed to be patrolling. This is the moment he tells you he can’t even wait until tomorrow, and he drags you upstairs to his bed. Warmth flooded through your thighs, and you held your breath, staring at him.
But Joel didn’t say that. Instead, you watched dejectedly from the doorway as he rose slowly from the couch and tucked the tattered book underneath his arm. “Well,” he coughed, turning towards the stairs. “I’m gonna get some shut eye. It’ll be a warm day, and I’d better get some rest before we head out.”
You watched him move towards the stairs, heart beating painfully fast against your ribs.
“I’m actually not tired,” you blurted out. Joel paused. His left hand gripped the banister, and you could’ve sworn it might break in half based on the way his knuckles went white.
“Well, I am,” he said over his shoulder, before padding up towards his room , not even turning to give you a second look.
You tossed and turned for an hour, staring at the ceiling wide awake. The linen sheets stuck to your sweaty skin, making you feel claustrophobic enough to kick them to the end of the bed. You waited for him. Every creak and groan the old house made had your ears twitching, eyes glancing eagerly toward the door, expecting it to creak open and reveal him sneaking in through the darkness.
And when it became clear that he wasn’t coming, you pushed away the uncomfortable feeling it brought, and snaked a hand past the band of your underwear. Your fingers raked over the coarse hair there, teasing yourself for a moment, before you slid a finger through your damp folds. Collecting your slick, you dragged it up to coat your throbbing nerves and sighed in relief.
Your middle finger dragged quick circles over your clit, and all you could picture was Joel above you, fucking you while wearing those stupid fucking glasses. Cursing him in your mind, you pressed a finger past your entrance, and huffed in frustration at how it paled in comparison to the thickness of his digits. You imagined the way the glasses would fall to the tip of his nose, almost falling off his face while he fucked you so hard you saw stars. In an attempt to stifle the soft moans trying to escape your mouth, you bit down on your bottom lip, fingers moving quicker against yourself. And you came like that; hand down your underwear, rubbing yourself frantically, thinking about nothing but him.
It was hot, and the skin of your thighs chafed painfully as you and Joel ambled silently through the stables, getting your horses from their stalls to saddle up. He hadn’t said much to you all morning and you were trying not to read into it, but the fraught silence had you on edge.
You winced upon spotting Davis and Peterson standing by the gate, chatting while they loaded their rifles. Lloyd caught your eye and smiled, offering a short nod in your direction. You returned the nod before looking back down and fiddling with Japan’s saddle, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed.
“Gimme a sec,” he muttered. “Gotta go pick Jesse’s brain.”
You hummed in acknowledgement and continued tugging on the straps of the saddle, until your skin prickled, a presence looming over your shoulder.
“Should we see if we can swap partners?” that voice sounded, and you turned to see Lloyd smirking suggestively at you. “Send Davis and Miller out East together, and you and me could head to the ski lodge?”
Your palms dampened a little and your eyes darted around the stables. There was no denying that Lloyd Peterson was a handsome guy. He was young, somewhere in his early-twenties. He had bright green eyes that shone in contrast against the dark brown hue of his skin. Straight, bright white teeth almost blinded you whenever he smiled, and you’d have to be a robot not to be effected by it. Past his shoulder, you spotted Joel hovering at the mouth of the stables, gaze trained on the pair of you. Caught, he turned quickly, muttering under his breath as he stalked off toward Jesse.
You looked back to Lloyd and shook your head once. “I don’t think so,” you said. “Gonna stick with Miller today.”
Not giving him much chance to respond, you gripped Japan’s reigns and led her out of the building. Joel and Jesse were talking in hushed tones by the gate, and you walked in their direction, pausing a few metres away when you noticed how tense the conversation seemed to be. Jesse was frowning at the older man, shaking his head slowly.
“Hey,” Lloyd’s voice came again, and you turned with a sigh, raising a hand to block out the sun as you stared up at him. “Can we talk?”
“Talk,” you rushed out, glancing to the side just as Joel appeared beside you, holding out a rifle. You shouldered it quickly, noticing the way Lloyd seemed to balk at the older man’s presence. “Peterson,” you urged, eager to get it over with. “Get on with it.”
He spared another awkward glance at Joel before speaking in a lowered voice. “Did I do something wrong?” You cringed, knowing Joel could hear every word, and yet he didn’t move a muscle. It seemed he wasn’t going anywhere, eyes trained on the man, uninterested in offering the pair of you any privacy to finish your conversation. “I thought we had a good time, y’know? But you’ve been avoiding me.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you replied plainly, even as the thought of him telling Davis about fucking you flashed through your mind. Joel was deadly quiet, eyes flicking between the pair of you like he was watching a game of tennis. You sighed deeply, wishing this wasn’t happening in front of him. In a moment of almost… shame, you realised that you didn’t want Joel to get the wrong idea. Didn’t want him to think that anything else had happened, or would ever happen, between you and Peterson.
“Then why won’t yo-“
“Why don’t you back off kid,” Joel interrupted suddenly, and your shoulders tensed, skin prickling at his harsh tone. “She’s not interested.”
Lloyd flinched at the words, and he looked to you, waiting for you to say something, to refute Joel’s claim. But you were distracted by the sudden warmth in your abdomen, and when you didn’t react quick enough he scoffed quietly, spinning on his heel and walking back where Davis was waiting with their horses. When you looked at Joel, he had a pleased smirk on his face, and you felt your stomach fall somewhat, guilt spreading through you at the way Lloyd rode out of the settlement without looking back.
The ride to the ski lodge was long. For the most part of the three hour trek, you rode alongside each other in silence, until finally you couldn’t help yourself, thoughts tumbling from your mouth.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.
Joel looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and didn’t say a word.
“He was already embarrassed,” you added. His top lip curled up into a mean smirk.
“Peterson’s an ass. He should be embarrassed.”
A huff escaped your mouth and then he was turning, looking at you fully now with his eyebrows pinched together.
“What, your little boyfriend can’t handle some friendly teasin’?” he sneered, the change in mood so sudden you almost fell off your horse. And all the warmth you’d felt, every soft yearning part inside of you toward him, you pushed it to the side and focused on the confusion instead, allowing it to morph into pure anger. You were seeing red; furious with him for never being able to just see reason.
“Oh, fuck off Joel,” you scowled. “I’m not doing this with you today.” You kicked your heel against Japan’s hide and rode ahead, not listening for a reaction.
The higher the pair of you rode up the mountain, the hotter it got. By the time the horses were tied up by a trough of water and the pair of you were walking into the lodge, sweat was rolling down your skin in rivulets. A headache brewed in your temples, and frustration weighed heavily on your chest as Joel huffed and puffed around the room. Even being able to hear his breathing across the room while he scrawled in the logbook was enough to set your skin on edge. Eager to get some space from the tense atmosphere, you gruffly told him that you were taking first patrol, before shouldering your rifle and stalking back outside into the heat.
“You idiot,” you scowled to yourself, storming through the trees. Shame burned in your chest like a wildfire as you thought back to the night before. Touching yourself in his house, making yourself come thinking about him, wondering if he’d fuck you at the ski lodge. God, you felt like a teenager with a hopeless crush.
Your feet planted in the dirt, the word ringing in your head like an alarm. Eyes wide, you gazed into the trees.
“Nope,” you mumbled, starting to walk again slowly. “No, no, no.”
“Y’know they say talkin’ to yourself is the first sign of madness.”
Fuck.
“What are you doing?” you turned quickly, staring him down from through the thick trees. “I told you I’d take first patrol.”
“Yeah, I heard that. Saw you storm off too,” Joel rolled his eyes, propping his hands against his hips. “What’s your problem?”
“Jesus,” you grinned sarcastically. “I should be the one asking that question.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he frowned, stepping forward. The tan skin of his neck glistened in the sunlight, and you hated yourself for wanting to know how it tasted. Thankfully, hatred and anger were easier emotions to tap into than whatever the fuck you had been feeling about him for the past few weeks.
“It means,” you ground out. “That you’re a nasty old bastard.” His face darkened, lips twisted into an angry snarl, but you continued. “Peterson’s not my fucking boyfriend, so you can give it a rest okay? I had it handled.”
“Sure,” he laughed bitterly. “Don’t act like you didn’t love it, havin’ him hit on you right in front of me. You get off on the attention, from him and from me. I bet you loved havin’ me step in, tell him to fuck off.”
Your face was on fire as you glared at him, acutely aware of how the tension had spiked between the pair of you. Entire body tensed, you squared your shoulders and stared him down. “Are you fucking serious, Joel?” you asked lowly, eyebrows raising.
“Deadly,” he grit his teeth. “Don’t forget that I know you, baby, better than anyone.”
“No, you fucking don’t,” you spat desperately, turning around and walking quickly in the opposite direction.
“Oh yeah,” he called, the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you making your stomach drop. “Walk away, sunshine. Let’s just not talk about it, right? I know that’s your favourite thing to do. Walk away, and act like nothing happened.”
“Oh my god!” you shouted. “Grow up, you fucking assho-“ But as you spoke, your foot landed awkwardly on a patch of moss. You heard a low popping sound before you shrieked as your legs flew out from underneath you. You hit the ground awkwardly, ass slamming into the ground, and dirt sprayed into the air around you.
“Shit,” you hissed, moving to get up but cringing as a sharp pain shot through your ankle. The flesh around your shin was already swelling, and you cursed audibly, reaching down to rest your hand against it only to wince at the dull pain spreading through your entire foot.
“Jesus Christ,” you heard him say, and then his warm hands were on your shoulders, and he was crouching beside you. Breathing heavily, you stared as your ankle swelled to the size of a golf ball. “Come on, let’s get you back,” Joel said, gripping your elbow to lift you up.
“Get off,” you snapped, shoving him back. He stumbled a little and then stood, glaring down at you. “I can do it myself.”
“Clearly you fuckin’ can’t.”
Eager to prove a point, you dug your fingers into the dirt and pushed yourself up, and then began limping back towards the ski lodge.
You moved slowly with Joel trailing just a few steps behind, close enough that you could hear his breathing, and the way he muttered inaudibly whenever you stumbled. When you almost tripped trying to step over a tree branch, he snapped, appearing at your side in an instant and wrapping an arm around your waist.
“Joel,” you warned lowly, but he interrupted.
“Would you stop bein’ such a brat,” he snarled. “You might’ve broken your fuckin’ ankle, just let me help you god damnit.”
You grumbled under your breath but didn’t fight him again, silently grateful to lean on him and get some weight off the injury. His chest rose and fell quickly as he led you back to the lodge, and you could practically feel the anxiety radiating from him.
“It’s not broken,” you muttered. “Probably just a sprain.”
“Good,” he grunted, helping you up the steps and into the building. “Idiot.”
“Jeez, thanks, Joel,” you said bitterly. “You’re a real pal.”
His hand gripped your waist tighter, before lowering you onto the couch. “Any time, bud.”
Joel stormed into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bottle of water, tossing it at you before slamming down onto the sofa beside you. “Jesse and Dina will be here in a few hours, just keep it elevated until then.”
“You got it doc,” you rolled your eyes, eagerly gulping down the water even though it had gotten uncomfortably warm in his pack.
The pair of you sat in silence for a while, your ankle throbbing where it rested atop the coffee table.
“I don’t fuckin’ get you,” Joel finally breathed, and you looked to him with a raised eyebrow and a snarky comment on your lips, only to find him with his head tilted back against the couch, eyes closed.
“What?” you asked dumbly.
“You heard me,” he said. “I don’t fuckin’ get you. You go two weeks avoidin’ me, I hardly see you, then you’re knocking on my door, askin’ to stay? And then today you’re cursin’ my goddamn name. Throw me a fuckin’ bone, darlin’, cause I got no idea where I stand with you.”
Your lips parted, all the breath in your lungs rushing out of you in one fell swoop. His eyebrows were furrowed, a deep frown settled across his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. He didn’t look angry, you realised. He looked confused; he looked hurt. Your stomach rolled.
“I could say the same,” you started pathetically, and then his eyes flashed open and he was staring back at you with those dark brown eyes that fucking killed you.
“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said blankly, eyes darting around your face.
Your lips felt numb as you slowly asked, “What?”
“You left,” he said quietly. “You fuckin’ left me, and I just don’t know if I can keep pretendin’ anymore. Pretend that this doesn’t… mean anything to me. Pretend that I’m fine with… this. Don’t know if I can keep doing it if you’re just gonna leave. My heart can’t take it.”
It felt like time stood still for a moment. Outside one of the open windows, you could hear the trees rustling in the hot summer wind. Your ankle ached. Joel kept staring at you.
“You know that’s the best I’ve slept in years?” he asked softly, licking his lips. “Slept so fuckin’ sound with you next to me. No nightmares – hell, I didn’t even dream. And then I woke up, and you were gone, and I almost wished it had never happened. So that I wouldn’t have to know how good it felt to have you, wouldn’t have to try and sleep without you every night after, knowing exactly what I was missing.”
“Joel,” you tried again but he shook his head, raising a hand in the air to stop you.
“Just let me,” he took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking. “Let me say this. Just once, and then I’ll let it be, okay? I won’t bring it up again, and we can go back to the way things were befo-“
“Stop,” you croaked out, tears swimming in your eyes. “Shut up for a second. I,” you paused, eyes darting over his face, searching for understanding. “I didn’t want to leave, okay? But I’m scared Joel. Jesus, I’m so scared of this.”
“Scared?”
“Of this feeling that won’t go away. Of wanting to stay. I’ve been trying to push it down, to ignore it, and it doesn’t fucking work, no matter what I do. I’m so scared that I’ve fucked up our friendship, that I’m going to lose yo-“
“Never,” he shook his head firmly, hand reaching out to squeeze your knee. “Listen, you’re not losin’ me, okay? That's never gonna happen.”
“But Joel,” you sighed shakily. “If we push things further, there’s no going back. Don’t you understand?”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” he admitted quietly. “I think it’s been too late for me for a while now.”
You stared at him with wide eyes, and when you spoke again you could hear the fear in your voice. “I don’t know if I can be what you want.”
Joel chuckled humourlessly and sighed, squeezing your thigh again.
“It’s you,” he said. “That’s what I want. You don’t have to do anythin’, don’t have to change or be anythin’ else. I just want you.” His eyes shone in earnest, and you couldn’t help but surge forward, planting your lips against his. He returned the kiss with fervour, parting your lips with his tongue and gripping the sides of your face in a searing grip.
He tasted like salt and mint and your head was swimming, consumed by him. Your fingertips were numb as they raced over his body, desperate to touch him everywhere all at once. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until his hands joined yours, carefully undoing them all until you could pry it off him.
Pulling back from the kiss, you allowed your eyes to rake over his exposed chest, taking in the sight of his tanned, hairy chest, littered with scars and freckles and you felt the urge to kiss every single one of them. So you did. You pushed him back into the couch and straddled him, ignoring the way your ankle cried out at the movement, and attached your lips to his collarbone, licking and sucking your way across his torso. Showing reverence to every imperfection on his skin. Your tongue swiped past one of his nipples and he jolted beneath you, hands dragging under the fabric of your shirt to rest on your back. You could feel him growing hard beneath you and you smiled against his skin before rolling your hips down against his. He was murmuring your name in between sighs, scratching at your skin, revelling in the kisses you sponged across his chest.
Your eyes trailed upwards to meet his. “Want your cock in my mouth,” you whispered, and his face crumpled in on itself, eyes rolling back into his head.
“Fuck,” he sighed, gripping your hands tightly before pushing you off him. He stood up and in one quick movement he knocked the coffee table over, before he was undoing his belt and stripping his pants off. He helped you off the couch slowly, before lowering you down onto the carpet, crouching down to rest beside you. His large hands roamed across your chest, gripping the hem of your shirt and tugging it upward to expose your breasts, your aching nipples peaked and begging to be touched.
“Fuck,” he repeated, harsher this time, leaning over you to plant his mouth on your chest. His teeth scraped across your sensitive skin and you whined, gripping the nape of his neck as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked gently.
“Joel,” you mewled, tugging his face back up to yours for a brief kiss. “I mean it,” you breathed into his mouth. “Need you in my mouth so bad. M’gonna make you feel so good, I swear.” Within a second, he flipped the two of you over so his back was against the ground and you were straddling his hips. You grinned triumphantly, shifting your hips back as you kissed down his chest, moving your body down until you were straddling his shins, and pulling his briefs down with you.
His cock rested proudly against his stomach, thick and swollen and begging to be touched. The head was a deep shade of red, small beads of precum weeping out of his tip as he stared at you, patiently waiting for you to make a move. You didn’t waste a second before leaning down and gliding your tongue softly over the tip, swiping up his salt and humming at the taste. A sharp inhale whistled past his teeth, and you watched his eyes clamp shut at the sensation, hand forming a fist at his side. Gently, you took his hand and raised it to your head, encouraging him to touch you. He obliged, fisting your hair in his hand, grip tightening as you parted your lips around him and let him sink into your warm mouth. A long, drawn-out moan left his mouth and your cunt pulsed in response, the warmth between your thighs suddenly impossible to ignore.
“S-so good for me,” he groaned, pulling your hair tighter. “Love your mouth, I love it. That’s it, baby, open up a little more for me, show me how much you can take.”
The sharp sting on your scalp made you moan around him, and he cursed, undoubtedly feeling the vibration. The weight of him against your tongue was intoxicating, and you bobbed your head up and down slowly, his cock gliding in and out of your mouth easily, slick with your spit. You’d missed the taste of him, missed the sensation of him filling you up to the point where it was hard to breathe, and yet you still wanted more. You pressed forward, eager to feel him fill you up, but when his cock brushed the back of your throat he was gripping your hair and pulling you off him.
“Turn around,” he ordered, and you looked up in confusion. His bottom lip was bitten raw, and his eyes were a darker brown than normal as he gazed at you. When you didn’t move, he was pulling you up and turning your body so your back was to him, and only then did you realise what he meant. He pulled your shorts down your legs, dragging your underwear with them, and then he carefully tugged one of your knees up and over his shoulder, so you were straddling his chest. Slowly, you shuffled back on your knees until your wet heat was hovering over his face, and you leaned down to let your chest rest against his.
“Baby,” Joel sighed. “So fuckin’ perfect. Such a pretty pussy. Can never get enough of you.”
You clenched around nothing, and heard him groan, signalling that he’d seen it. Without warning, his tongue dipped between your folds and you gasped, pushing your hips back to give him a better angle, before taking him back into your mouth. And it was nothing like it had been two nights before. He wasn’t gentle, or slow, or relaxed. No, Joel was relentless.
His tongue moved rhythmically against you, and you tried desperately to focus, harsh breaths leaving your nose as you moved your mouth lazily along his length. You pulled back and lathed your tongue around the head of him, tasting the salt that dripped out of him. He grunted into you and you smiled, stroking him slowly as you sucked the tip, grinding your tongue into the sensitive skin just underneath his head. Joel’s hips bucked up off the ground, and your hand left his length, gripping his waist firmly to hold him down while you took him into your mouth again. You pushed yourself as far as you could, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as he brushed the back of your throat. His beard scratched against your inner thighs deliciously, and you decided you loved it a little longer. And then suddenly, his tongue moved away from your clit and he was licking broad strokes along the entirety of your core, and then over your entrance, and then… his tongue flicked all the way back and into new territory.
You flinched forward, his cock surging deeper into your throat and you gagged around him as you explored the new feeling. You moaned, eyes screwing shut at the foreign sensation, and you felt your legs begin to shake against his sides. His hands gripped your hips and pulled you down harder against his face, ruthlessly dragging his tongue back and forth from your clit to your hole, until you were tearing your mouth away him and sitting up, grinding yourself down desperately against his face. Arching your back, you writhed on top of him, crying out hoarsely. Every strong flick of his tongue felt like an electric shock jolting through your body, and he continued until you were panting and twitching on top of him, and then you let go. The orgasm tore through you, a shout falling from your lips as you rode his face, gripping his thighs for leverage as your entire body shuddered with the intensity. He didn’t let up; licking and sucking and kissing, his moans vibrating through your core until you were whimpering and dragging yourself off him, clit aching from the pressure.
You were still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm when Joel pressed your back down onto the carpet, nudged your knees apart so he could fit between them, and pushed himself inside you. A sweet, low burn blazed in your abdomen with every inch he gave to you. The wet sound of you sucking him in might have embarrassed you, but the look of awe on his face as he stared down at where you were connected just made you feel powerful.
His thrusts were strong, the sweaty skin of your thighs smacking against each other noisily filling the air, mixing with your breathless moans of his name.
“So fuckin’ tight,” he was saying, but you weren’t listening, eyes rolling back in your head as he played with your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers.
“Fuck, Joel,” you cried out at a particularly hard thrust, stomach tensing as the head of his cock grinded against your g-spot.
“There?” he panted, and you nodded frantically, mouth hanging open as he pressed against it over and over again, groaning at the way you tensed around him.
Urgent sounds left your lips as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, and you watched with wide eyes as his hand trailed down your chest to rest over your mound, his thumb slipping between your folds to press gently against your throbbing clit. Your back arched up from the ground and you choked out a moan as he rubbed you in slow circles, a stark contrast to the way he drilled into you with his cock.
“Come,” Joel encouraged and you whimpered, eyes screwing shut as the overwhelming feeling soared through you. His free hand landed over your throat and your eyes flew open, looking up at him as he applied soft pressure to the sides of your neck. “C’mon baby, let me have it. I can feel you, you’re so fuckin’ close, give it to me, please, I want it.”
His words pushed you over the edge, and you gasped against his hold, bucking up into him as he fucked you roughly. You twitched and writhed on the ground, his thumb never stopping its movements against your clit as you cried out his name.
And somewhere amidst it all, his movements slowed. His hands turned soft on your body, head dropping down to drag gentle wet kisses along the skin of your neck.
“So good,” he praised lowly. “So beautiful.” Your heart soared in your chest, and you smiled drowsily, body tingling as he continued to give you gentle thrusts.
“Kiss me,” you said shyly, and Joel smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You sighed into his mouth, gliding the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip as you draped your heavy arms around his neck, pinning his torso down against yours. “Fuck me like this,” you told him. “Want to feel you close to me.”
He nodded, starting up a slow rhythm, only ever pulling out halfway before pressing back into you. You were both slick with sweat, and you wiped his forehead gently before raking your fingers through his thick messy curls. His face was red from exertion, and you thumbed his cheekbones gently. A heavy sigh fell from your mouth. Still recovering from your previous orgasm, you knew it wouldn’t be hard for him to build you up for another one.
“Give me one more,” he begged, sponging feather light kisses over your eyelids, your cheeks, down your neck. “Want to feel you come with me, baby, please. Just one more, I know you can.”
You gripped his hair and kissed him deeply, your tongues tangling together as he moved his hips slowly, cock dragging in and out of you at a devastating pace. Joel pulled back to watch you, eyes gazing down with adoration as he moved above you. That familiar liquid heat began to burn in your stomach, curling through every fibre of your being, and you could see in his face that he was close. And there was something else there too. Something you couldn’t place; simmering in his eyes, lingering on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said. His hips began to stutter against yours, a choked gasp of your name falling from his lips as he quickened his pace until you were coming together, holding each other tightly on the ground of the ski lodge. He moaned heavily against your mouth, and you throbbed around him as his spend coated your walls, warm and slick, squeezing out around his cock as he moved.
As a low, warm silence filled the room, you worked to control your breathing, body shaking against his as he pulled out of you. You whimpered at the empty feeling, missing the weight of him already. But he didn’t go far.
Joel laid down on the carpet beside you, draping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his chest. Your fingers trailed over the skin of his stomach, smiling at the goosebumps that developed in your wake. Mine.
His hand caught yours and he lifted it to his mouth, kissing the back of it gently. You leaned forward to rest your face in the rook of his neck, and he sighed in contentment, trailing his fingers down your back.
“Hey Joel?” you murmured against his skin.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I called you a nasty old bastard.”
Joel laughed and tightened his grip around your back, tugging you closer to his chest. “I forgive you.”
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#fwb joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfic#the last of us#tlou#the last of us fanfiction#my writing#bite the bullet#cat's outta the bag#don't cry over spilt milk#whole new can of worms
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bad idea
series masterlist
chapter summary: megs is caught with his hands full
chapter warnings: nsfw, 18+ content, aged up characters, utter filth don't look @ me, masturbation, oral, facials, reader is more dominant
a/n: can someone punch ao3 for me the dreaded paragraph spaces are back 😭 I sincerely hope y'all enjoy!
read on ao3 here
This was the mother of all bad ideas.
But as Megumi crept his hand down his abdomen toward his excited cock, he couldn’t imagine it being anything but a good one.
The hotel room was quiet save for the clock tick, tick, ticking at the wall; Megumi groped his crotch and felt his hardened cock twitch in his palm —
Megumi stifled a groan, quick to undo his fly.
He was a fucking animal, but he couldn’t help it; he had mistaken his drawer for yours and had found an entire collection of your lacy panties, one after the other, and what was worse: his sinful mind’s eye had imagined you in them, your sweet cunt hugged into the underwear, squeezing your plush thighs together —
“Ah, fuck,” he couldn’t remember if he had locked the door or only closed it; the idea of you or Yuji walking in at any moment and seeing him jerking off when they should all be searching for curses was horrifying, but the fabric of those panties and the stroke of his cock were all that could occupy his brain.
Megumi stroked himself, one eye cracked open to survey the door. He felt his cheeks grow hot, breath shallow — and then hitched as he thought of your hand coming over his cock, literally in the palm of your hand.
She can come in if she wants, Megumi’s mind cottoned with desire. I don’t care.
He did care, but the feel of his hand palming his cock evaporated his shame. A part of him ached for you to creak the door open and see what you did to him. He thought of your drawer and cursed himself for not having stolen a pair just for this occasion.
Megumi felt sweat on his neck as he tightened his grip, quickened the pace. He thought of you hooking your fingers under the band of your panties, sliding them down slowly past your thighs, for him.
“A—ahh …”
If he had any pride at all, he’d stuff himself back in his trousers and help himself to a cold shower, but the thoughts of you propelled his hand. Megumi bit his lip, felt the raise of climax begin to tighten his stomach. So close …
He thought of the slick from your cunt as you removed your panties, his fingers deep in your cunt, taking them out only to taste you. Tasting you himself, licking a mixture of your cum and his off your labia —
Megumi felt his hand frantic now. He raised off the bed, curling toward his climax. His other hand gripped so tight in the sheets he was sure to tear them.
“Ah,” curse after curse spilled from his lips, climax precipicing, “ah, f — ah, shit —“
“Megumi …?”
His eyes popped open. In a flash, he retreated into the bed, covers over him.
So. He hadn’t locked the door.
Secure under the sheets, he angled his head toward the door, dread creeping over him.
You were there, hand on the door frame, looking over him with concern.
“Y — (Y/n) …”
“Are you okay?”
Actual total opposite of fine.
“I heard you it — it sounded like you might be hurt so I came to check on —“
“Fine,” he lied, turning away from you, desperate to ignore the painfully hard throbbing cock between his legs. “Just … a headache is all.”
“Hm …” he envisioned the cute head cock you must be doing right about now. “You don’t seem fine. Let me just —“
“I said I’m fine,” he pressed, tone firm, but it did nothing to still the frantic beating of his heart.
Footsteps.
“Let me just see your head, Megs.”
His crazed heartbeat was in his ears. “St — stop,” he ordered, but it was weak and knew it wouldn’t deter you.
He came to lean beside him opposite the bed and looked him over. He could imagine how he appeared; sweaty, face flushed and red, under different circumstances, sick, maybe with the flu?
It wasn’t the fucking flu.
You reached for him, pulling him backward. His hold on the sheets was awkward, and they slipped —
“Wait —!”
Too late; the sheets he had balled in his hand fell to the floor, his cock springing to life in your face.
You startled, eyes glued to his cock.
Megumi froze, save for the frantic twitching of his eye. Fuckfuckfuck —
Your expression softened, eyes never leaving his cock dangling dangerously close to your lips.
Finally, you looked up at him.
“You’re a lot bigger than I thought.”
….
What?
He couldn’t reply — was that a compliment or an insult? He didn’t know, couldn’t know; his head swam as reality turned to mush and you came forward.
“I —“
Megumi swallowed as you left a hand on his inner thigh, forcing him to spread the leg attached.
“Is this for me?” You asked innocuously. You were on your knees, literally, eyes glittering with the orange hotel lights and batting eyelashes at him.
Megumi couldn’t bring himself to speak as your breath ghosted over his cockhead.
This is a dream. No way is she going to —
Your hand fell over his cock, angled it forward. Your sweet lips began to part, your head bowing forward to take his cock into your mouth.
Oh.
You moaned, as though eating melting candy. Megumi felt the shiver of your hum tickle his spine. He opened his mouth to speak only for his voice to die at the feel of your hand coming to grasp the rest of his shaft.
You bobbed your head even farther, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat.
“Fuck …” Megumi’s head fell back. “If Yuji walks in —“
You popped his cock from your mouth to answer. “He won’t; he found the curse.”
Megumi looked down. Oh. The reasonable part of him figured they should be out there, helping him —
Instead, you’re here getting your dick sucked.
Megumi’s hand tentatively grazed your forearm with his fingers as you took him in your mouth again.
“So you say …” he murmured, concern lingering.
Again, he left your mouth.
“If he walks in,” You began before flicking his tip, “he can watch.”
He clutched the sheets as you worked your mouth on him. He felt you hollow your cheeks and his legs weakened at the feel of your sweet, pillowy mouth around his cock. He felt the hotel sheets tear in his grip as the ghost of your teeth grazed against the skin of his shaft —
“(Y/n), fuck —“ he choked.
You popped him from your mouth. He eyed you, leaving his cockhead on the cushion of your lips.
“You taste a lot better, too,” You said.
You jerked him, opening your mouth, waiting for his cum to coat your pink tongue. Fuck. He shuddered at the sight, climax rising dangerously up his spine —
That was when he pulled himself away from you.
“Megs?” You said, surprised.
He gripped your arm and pulled you into bed, switching positions with you.
“No,” he murmured, feeling braver, hands lifting your skirt up your thighs, eyeing the hot pink of your panties. “Not yet …”
He didn’t know why he stopped you; maybe it was because he wanted your pussy in his mouth. Or maybe he was a sick fuck who liked to edge himself, whatever the case, his mouth ran dry at the sight of the slick wet spot blossomed at the cup of your panties.
“Megs …” You moaned.
He hooked his fingers and pulled them down. “I want to taste you first …”
He wrestled your panties from your legs, then wrestled with the idea of stuffing them in his pocket for later, before you parted your legs for him with a soft moan.
Megumi settled his hands where the fat came to rest at your hips, hooked his hands there and scooted you toward the edge of the bed, toward his mouth. His breath inches from your cunt sent you trembling in his grip before he gave an experimental lick at your folds.
You mewled, hands tangling in his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. He moaned in your cunt, your juices coating his tongue.
“Megumi …” You moaned, tugging his head closer.
He poked his tongue and felt the gush of juices hit his tongue. His hand reached up to thumb at your clit. Fuck, if you only knew how long he’d wanted to do this to you, how obsessed he was with the idea of your cunt, how thoughts of it had sent his hand clinging to his cock.
His nose brushed against your cunt as you brought him closer. He closed his eyes, focusing solely on how his tongue ventured into your folds. His cock stood painfully hard, a string of precum seeping onto the hotel carpet.
A low groan escaped Megumi’s throat as he substituted his thumb for two fingers flicking at your clit sideways —
He heard you gasp from above before you shoved his face into your cunt.
“Oh, Megumi, I — fuck, oh!”
Megumi held on tighter, eyes rolling back as you suffocated him with your twat. Too much … he reached for his cock, fisting it all while desperate to burn this moment into his memory.
Plunging his tongue into your depths he earned low purrs from you.
“I — I hear you, Megs,” You said between desperate breaths. “I hear you je — jerking off. Don’t you dare, I — want it in my mouth! — Megumi …!”
The way you said his name —
His groan sounded from deep within him as he used all his strength as a fucking sorcerer to tear his hand away and focus only on your drooling cunt. In a fit of thinly-veiled revenge, he pinched your clit between his fingers.
“Aa— aha!” You trapped his head between your thighs. “You like this? Like drowning in my cunt — aah!”
You have no fucking idea.
He wanted to stay like that forever, head buried in your pussy. Your legs began to tremble, your back cat-arching off the mattress, moans growing higher-pitched as he worked he trapped your clit between his fingers and left it victim to his tongue.
“Megumi!”
He felt your pussy clench and convulse against his mouth, delighted in the way your juices glazed his lips and tongue. He drank your orgasm, wished he could save your water and put it on his breakfast every morning.
Your hands lost themselves in the spike of his hair as you rocked against him. He was determined to let you ride your orgasm out on his face, convinced he had a face for just this purpose.
A few desperate, victimized “oh, oh, ohs” escaped your lips before you began to relax, convulsions coming less frequently. You looked up at him.
He licked his lips.
“Get up here,” You ordered. “S’ your turn.”
He abandoned your legs, more animal than man as he gripped his cock, and positioned it before your face. You opened your mouth for him, your tongue a canvas for his cum to paint —
“God, fuc — fuck …!” Megumi furrowed his brows, fought to keep eyes open — because no way would he miss this — as he spilled over your eager tongue.
Your eyes fluttered closed as his cum splattered into your mouth.
“Fuck — (Y/n), I —“ the climax killed his voice. Megumi couldn’t control his hand moving frantically over his cock, draining himself over your face.
Cum dripped from your lips as you looked up at him, a soft, cum-painted smirk coming over your face.
Megumi blushed. “I’m — I’m sorry —“
You tilted your head in disbelief, smiling up at him. “For what?” Fingers came to scoop up his seed from your lips and into your mouth. “S’ what I asked for, after all.”
He swallowed. “Mm …”
Your eyes trailed down to his cock. He followed you — and was almost embarrassed. Figures. His cock stood to attention; your very existence made him hard, but covered in his cum? It wouldn’t have been long before his cock had come back to life, ready again.
You had sparkles in your eyes. “C’mon, we probably don’t have much longer.”
You scooted toward the top of the bed, head on the pillows. He followed you, hands groping everywhere. The two of you were still mostly dressed, yet his cock twitched at the soft squeeze his palm gave to one of your tits.
“Mm …” You purred.
He bucked into you, causing you to gasp. His hand fell on the side of your head, and when you looked up at him he leaned forward, kissing you fervently.
“Mm …” Megumi breathed. “Can taste myself …”
And you on him and he on you. Fuuuck. You nibbled on him, your hands flat against his back as he ground into you.
He trailed to your jaw. He felt your nipple harden under his palm.
“Aah! Megs, stop —“
You rocked back into him —
“— teasing.”
He groaned, sitting up to grip his cock. He lifted the hem of your skirt, positioned against your entrance — a sigh of unison sounding between the two of you as he slid into you.
The grip of your cunt sent him reeling. He came back down on your lips. A part of him wanted you on top, to ride him as you drained his cock and any remaining dignity he had, but you felt too good for him to even consider doing anything but thrusting inside your hot welcoming pussy —
His hips slapped you into the mattress, his hand already going to that abused clit he loved so much. You turned your head, teeth biting into the pillow, nails biting into his shoulder blades as he fucked you how he always wanted, hard and fast and —
“C’mon, Megs,” You rasped out. “Fuck me, you can cum inside me, wherever you want — you already know that — oh!”
“Fuck …” he hissed. You were trying to drain the cum from his cock again already.
He tore your shirt, revealing the lace of your bra. He yanked it away and assaulted your nipple with his mouth, sucking intently.
“Mm — aah!” Your moans mingled with the slap of his hips against you.
He growled, feeling it again. Next time, you were definitely riding him, tits bouncing in his face, cunt slamming down on him. Even in the midst of fucking you he still dreamt of fucking you. Pathetic.
He slathered your nipple with his tongue, rolling your clit around in his fingers.
“Meg — oh — fuck —“ You gasped out as his pace turned wild.
He felt you clench around him and wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. He bit into your neck hard. The swirl of your wet cunt surrounding his cock was like nothing else in the world —
“I’m —“ he choked.
“Please, Megumi,” your tongue swirled around his earlobe. “Please …”
That was it; a few more hard thrusts and he buried himself inside you, cum spilling into you. He buried himself in your neck as you pressed yourself into him, pussy milking him.
Megumi rose away from you. With great pains, he pulled his cock away, watching as his cum pooled from your cunt onto the sheets. He scooped it before shoving his release back in with his fingers.
“Oh …”
He sat on top of you, spent, the sweat of your bodies sticking the two of you together. You pulled him forward and he butterflied kisses over your neck and jaw, relishing in the soft bloom of hickeys beginning to be born on your skin.
“Mmm …” You purred at his attention.
He made it to the other side of your face before something caught his eye.
He reached forward, cock still sheathed in you. His cheeks reddened as your panties draped around his shoulders.
“Can I keep these?”
You snorted. “What?”
“Who knows when we’ll be able to do this again,” Megumi said, eyeing the undergarment shrouding his fingers like a museum piece. Then he witnessed the way you were staring at him and shrugged. “I’d like them for myself.”
You shook your head at him. “It’s always the quiet ones,” then waved him off. “Sure, whatever, do what you want.”
The two of you jerked at the sound of a faraway door closing.
“I’m back!” Yuji’s voice carried through the hotel room. “Didn’t miss anything interesting, did I?”
#megumi smut#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi fushiguro x you#megumi x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#megumi x y/n#megumi x you
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minecraft
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<rin> the gist of it is that when I was with my ex who just kind of brought things up to start fights, I eventually got numb to it and mentally checked out of arguing. it was always insanely mundane stuff that would get responses (eg asking if a weapon in warframe was meta and taking it personally if I said it wasn't) so I naturally concluded "ah yeah, minecraft won't do that"
<rin> but what I didn't realise is that in response to any attempt to do that in minecraft, I'd go dwarfmode and just build an incomprehensible hyperfixation labyrinth while nodding and going "mhm" every time argument bait was dropped
<rin> this base had literally 300 rooms, connected by tunnels and spires with nothing in them that I constructed in a fugue state and filled with mannequins, but then I realised I had a problem
<rin> that was really really really fucking scary
<rin> what I had ACTUALLY built was a city that could house an entire faction, to scale with some real life towns and fully furnished, in a place where ambient cave noises would play and it wasn't always clear where the next door to the surface (or an airlock into a cavern) was
<rin> and I got so creeped out conceptually by having a massive labyrinth that was made entirely of negative autistic energy, filled with mannequins that I placed seemingly only to scare myself, that I stopped going in most of it and kind of hid in one of the top floors (the one with the terracotta ballroom and the roman style bathing area)
<rin> the end result was that I started building houses inside of the house, smaller basecamps that were less creepy than the massive empty structure, along with numbered signs and routes through it that avoided "the creepy parts"
<rin> the creepy parts were like. exceptionally weird.
<rin> it wasn't even built as a base, but just vaguely attached "expansion" that usually simulated something or otherwise looked like it should have a use
<rin> for example, a series of identical plazas, connected by a central spiral staircase, all with identical underground apartment buildings that flanked all four sides, down to the furniture inside of them, all the way to bedrock
<gf> oh my god babe
<gf> i don't even know what to say. just oh my god
<rin> there were multiple restaurants, and the gimmick of them is that they were identical except for the color of the wool used on the carpet, and there were 20 of them
<friend> rin, are you like, okay
<rin> oh no I'm insane
<rin> genuinely I wish I still had the world file because like, what cool organic horror it was
<gf> yeah that sounds kind of incredible in like a really terrible way
<rin> there were distinctly the small manageable rooms where I was actually comfortable playing the game and then there was the horrifying maze of structures that made up my mental labyrinth further in or something
<rin> total aside, that's why there's the metrolith labyrinths in vesalblood. the "compacted underground urban center built on top of other urban centers" thing struck me as a cool enough concept to keep
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My sister has been showing me episodes of OG Trigun--mostly in preparation for Trigun Stampede--but also because it's one of her favorite manga of all time.
And holy SHIT I cannot even begin to explain how fucking batshit this show is. Just hearing Johnny Yong Bosch's voice alone immediately sent me back at least fifteen years.
I have watched all episodes of OG Trigun while drunk, high and sober. And regardless of my state of inebreiation, I was always left with the exact, inescapable feeling of wanting to fucking die from the sheer nostalgic cringe and insanity of it all. I hate this show. I love this show. I'm fucking obsessed.
So, to all those who are curious (or would just like a mini idea of how to compare OG Trigun with Trigun Stampede)--here is my comprehensive list of things that ACTUALLY happened in Trigun that make me go absolutely batshit just thinking about them:
The sheer insanity of the--balls to the walls, barely held together with ducktape, spit and shoestring--of a plot, all with apparently little to no accuracy to the manga whatsoever. This both amuses and horrifies my sister.
The absolute refusal on the part of the anime to actually explain literally anything. Like the fact that the show takes place in space. Or why humanity is on a desert planet. Or what Plants are, why they're important, why they're there, literally ANYTHING.
Seriously, if you've only ever watched the anime you would have no fucking clue what the Plants are or what they even do. And THEY'RE LITERALLY ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT BITS OF LORE/A HUGE PART OF THE PLOT OF THE ENTIRE FUCKING MANGA.
A major bit of Trigun's lore/setting is just straight up the events of Wall-E.
Johnny Yong fucking Bosch as Vash's English VA. Enough said.
Vash--by simply existing and (mostly) through no direct fault of his own--is capable of wrecking such sheer and complete utter devastation that there's an actual insurance policy people can file after their town is destroyed in the aftermath of him visiting. Iconic.
Monev is just Spiderman's Venom but with a purple and orange reskin. This was intentional on part of the creator as he is obsessed with Venom. Good on him.
This is only specific to the English Dub (we switched to the original sub for the more "serious" episodes, calm down), but HOLY FUCK the absolutely atrocious line deliveries somehow make the show even worse and yet ultimately so much funnier all at the same time!
Millions Knives is the name of Vash's twin brother.
Vash is bisexual. There are multiple occassions where he will call a random male character "Cute" or "Cutie." Somehow, I am not the least bit surprised.
Christianity exists. And the Church trains orphans to be assassins. This makes perfect sense.
"LUUV AND PEEEEAAACCCCCEEE!!!!"
In the second episode of the series (English Dub), there's an actual scene where an old man and his grandson LOUDLY lament the absolute devastation of their home in the most inappropriately cheerful and candid way possible. And then the fucking kid follows that up by just singing out of fucking nowhere "~Bad times are here LALALALALA!!!!!~"
Vash is part gun.
According to "company regulations," as insurance workers Milly and Meryl are not allowed to take part time jobs. They later take part time jobs. My broke ass resonated too fucking hard with this bit.
"Oh, maaaan! Why can't I just get a break?! Death and poverty like me so much, they've brought friends!" Fucking. Mood.
At one point, Vash does the crab walk to dodge a barrage of bullets. This is, surprisingly, quite effective.
"I'll whack you, mister!"
Legato's introduction is him sitting down on a bench and then PULLING A HOT DOG OUT OF A PAPER BAG WITH A HUMAN HEAD IN IT!!!!
Legato has his own personal saxophone player that just follows him everywhere???????
"Oh my. I'm about to go down in ~fllaaaaaammeesssss!~"
Wolfwood.
In EP 16, someone just starts randomly scatting in the background for no reason. No explanation is ever offered.
"My name is .... VASH DA STAMPEDE-DUUUH!!!!!"
Also in EP 16, one of the villains for that episode sounds, deadass, exactly like Jar Jar Binks. I am not joking.
Legato can blood bend.
There's a mini episode dedicated to Milly and Meryl. Vash shows up for five seconds hiding in a trash can. The joke writes itself.
"The DEADLY DODGEBALL HEAD!!! A simple technique to hold the ball in place with INTENSE SUUUCTION!! Try this at home! ;)"
Knives eats an apple, cuts his own hair and enters his impromptu emo arc.
Legato gets horny over the idea of Vash crying. Idk what to tell you, man.
Wolfwood shoots a child. Granted, said child was gonna try to kill Vash and a bunch of orphans. But still.
Vash makes up a dark song about murdering and killing people. The villains of that episode proceed to roast him for his shit lyrics.
Wolfwood doesn't understand why everyone is mad at him for KILLING A CHILD.
"I meditate diligently every morning. The subjects are life and love ... I quit after three seconds."
The actually downright amazing OST, that has no right to be as good as it is. No joke, one of the best anime OSTs I have ever heard in my life.
"And if you're still having doubts, check out my 100% accurate gunmanship!" *proceeds to shoot directly at the sky only then for a black cat to fall directly on his head. The cat's fine btw*
At a certain point, Vash fakes his identity, gets a disguise and goes under a false name. Said false name being "Eriks." He looks like if someone ran Hohenheim through the washer and then hung him on a clothesline for a week. I have ... no fucking words.
"What is this strange phenomena? Is it some sort of strange and twisted Christian science!?"
For as menacing as they make Legato out to be, he sure does shit all in the grand scheme of things. Also he looks like he raids Seto Kaiba's closet on the DL and duels monsters on weekends.
Vash will randomly have Bishie eyes. Arguably, his most Bishie moment is right after Wolfwood punches him in the face. I'll let you infer what you want from this.
Rem randomly appears out of nowhere to taunt Vash with nonsense riddles and haikus. No explanation is ever given until EP 17 for who Rem is, why she keeps reappearing in Vash's mind, if she's even a real person or just someone Vash made up, etc. Because of this, it just looks like Vash keeps receiving American Beauty-style rose shower psychic attacks while a random woman just spouts absolute nonsense at him. There is no way this explanation will prepare you for the actual experience of watching it.
"I am known as Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz-" *prolonged pause* "-Gombigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andri Charton-Haymoss Ivanovici Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser the Third. Don't hestitate to call."
Vash gets adopted by an old woman and her granddaughter. It's actually kind of sweet.
A minor villain in EP 18 demands that Vash strip and then act like a dog. He proceeds to do both without a single objection. Wolfwood pulls down his sunglasses and leers at Vash's naked ass. My sister has informed me that this is actually canonical.
Rem is a hyper Christian.
Wolfwood takes personal offense to a burlesque dancer being absolute shit at dancing. Honestly ... I can't even argue with him.
"Hey, 'Thou Shalt Not Kill,' REMEMBER!? WHAT KIND OF CHURCH MAN ARE YOU!!!?"
Vash saves a town's Plant through the power of Bishie.
While trying to save a child, Vash and Wolfwood both get sucked into quicksand. Said child just watches them go into the ground. I would have done the same.
Milly, Vash and Wolfwood decide to share drinks and before any of them even take a single shot, Milly decides to strip naked. Vash and Wolfwood are very pleased by this. Meryl is not.
"WHOSE idea was it to USE THE GRENADE!!!?? He can't be identified for the reward if he's a pile of pulp, YOU DUMBASS!!!!"
Wolfwood calls Vash pathetic. This kickstarts yet another existential crisis within Vash.
"Thank GOD you asked! It's a long story, although it's kind of a short one."
For literally no reason at all, child Knives decides to embrace his Anti-Christ symbolism and goes full Joker mode. This is not at all accurate to the manga.
Vash and Knives are aliens/Plants. Rem thinks they're actual Christian angels. Deadass.
Milly forces Wolfwood to pretend to be her baby daddy for a whole episode. For pudding. Yup.
Vash enters a dom/sub relationship with a Pokemon gym leader looking lady and they engage in extremely explicit pet play.
Anyway, watch OG Trigun. If you've ever watched any sort of anime abridged series, it will definitely make things a little easier for you. There are definitely too many points at which this show feels like a YouTube Poop and I mean in that best and worst possible way.
Also Meryl is Best Girl. I will not budge on this.
#trigun#trigun stampede#vash the stampede#trigun vash#og trigun#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun wolfwood#trigun milly#trigun meryl#johnny yong bosch#90s anime#radio talks#radio loses his goddamn mind more like#y'all have no fucking clue#how wild it was#to experince this show for the first time#it's absolute insanity from one episode to the next#but it's never fuckig boring#so in a way#i have to give it credit for that at least#bisexual king vash#what an icon#what a fucking mess
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NBC's Hannibal really Did That and created the most compelling and beautiful allegory for coming out in a world that is inherently violent towards queerness and treats it as horrifying, disgusting, and psychotic.
top of mind right now is Will's Becoming, started in S01E01 and fully completed in S03E13. buckle in folks, this may end up being a long one.
following the allegory, both episodes feature Will and Hannibal sharing a queer experience with one another.
in the first, Will (at this point, deeply closeted and in denial) engages with GJH in an effort to protect Abigail. Hannibal (also closeted, but more out of self preservation, certainly not out of shame) isn't directly involved, merely a passive observer, but he did orchestrate the experience by calling GJH to warn him they were coming. obviously, his actions at this point are driven by curiosity. what will GJH do? and what about Will? clearly, Hannibal has clocked Will as similar to himself (aka queer), but can see that Will is in deep denial and terrified of his urges.
and it's just so powerful to see that Will's first explicitly queer experience is within the context of self sacrifice for the good of someone else. he wouldn't have chosen it, but he had to do it. at this point, this is the only way his psyche will accept his queerness. this scenario also gives him plausible deniabilty about his reasons for engaging GJH. it allows him to admit to Alana that he feels "good" after the whole event, claiming that he feels good because he saved Abigail. even though we know at least part of the reason he feels good is that he finally got to indulge this particular urge.
but even so, the whole point of season 1 is Will struggling with his guilt. he has nightmares. he thinks he's a monster.
(side note: i also think it is just so perfect that it takes Will ten shots to get GJH, like of course our sweet baby queer boy having his first queer experience isn't very experienced. i can hard relate)
fast forward to the series finale, we find Will and Hannibal having yet another queer experience with one another, but this time they are equal participants and it is Will, not Hannibal, who ultimately orchestrated this encounter.
and what is so wonderfully interesting to me is that a (very) small part of Will seems to remain conflicted about what his role will be in this scenario right up until it is actually happening. will he walk away, leaving Hannibal and the Red Dragon to their own devices, and return to his heteronormative family? will he be an active participant with Hannibal? will he simply be a passive observer? the moment Will decides he's going to participate is so clear and this is the moment he fully, 100% comes into himself and arrives at full self acceptance.
and then, when it's finally over, and Hannibal holds him while saying, "see? this is all i ever wanted for you. for both of us." and Will, his eyes quite literally shining with joy and love says, "it's beautiful" while clutching Hannibal and resting his head on his chest, enjoying the embrace (do NOT get me started on Hannibal's expression of pure ecstasy, i will explode).
and to wrap it all up, we see Will quite literally take a leap of faith in the arms of his most beloved before tumbling off the cliff. together.
like. that is so fucking beautiful???? and i don't think there is ANY piece of media that will ever have this type of impact on me again?
anyway. congrats if you made it this far and stay tuned for more ramblings as i get my thoughts in order lmao i just really fucking love this entire show.
#yes i watched hannibal for the first time in 2024#i am literally a changed person#what the FUCK did i just experience#and im supposed to just move on with my life???#big fucking ouch#coming out#hannibal#hannibal tv show#hannigram#mads mikkelsen#hugh dancy#hannibal lecter#will graham#s01e01#aperitif#s03e13#twotl#the wrath of the lamb#hannibal analysis
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Day 18 - Prompt: Message. @jegulus-microfic
December Daily Series - 498 words
<<<Previous Part OR Start Here
“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m James,” he said, forcing a smile and holding out a hand.
The bloke’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly clasped his hand. “Remus.”
James squeezed a harder than necessary as he shook Remus’s hand. The bloke winced and wrenched his hand free, then flexed it. It was an unspoken message, one that seemed to reach its recipient rather quickly.
“Right, I should be going.”
Regulus scoffed, “Why? Just because the dog-”
“No, no. The dog is…great, I sure,” Remus said, hesitating as he eyed James. “I’ll just fuck off, yeah?”
James attempted a shrug, but his feigned indifference must have missed its mark given Remus’s step back. He couldn’t loosen his jaw or ease the near snarl from his lips. This bloke was standing between him and Regulus, which was patently unacceptable.
“What’s wrong with-“ Regulus cut himself short when he stepped around Remus. “I see. I’ll talk to you later, Remus.”
“Or not?” he said, holding his hands up defensively. “I’m okay with that, mate. Just tell your incredibly fit brother that I’m interested…in him, I mean. Only interested in him.”
As the words sank in, James’s shoulders slowly dropped. He hadn’t realised how tense he was until the muscles relaxed. Immediately, he offered the bloke an apologetic smile.
“Ah, you fancy Sirius? Well, who doesn’t?”
Regulus aimed a horrified expression at him. It took James entirely too long to decipher it while he was distracted by the bloke’s storm cloud eyes. He choked on his own spit and shook his head vigorously.
“I didn’t mean me!” he insisted, gesturing at the whole bloody world around him. “Other people, who are not me. Him! He fancies Sirius.”
Remus’s startled laughter earned an annoyed huff from Regulus. James was too relieved to be bothered by losing Regulus’s attention again. The last thing he needed was for Regulus to avoid him. James suspected that he would be far better at it.
“I think we started off on the wrong foot,” Remus said, meeting James’s eye over Regulus’s head.
James grinned and he nodded in appreciation. “Agreed, let’s start over. I’m James Potter, and I may have misinterpreted things.”
“I’m Remus Lupin. A complete git with a wee crush on his inexcusably pretty brother.”
“Nice to meet you, Remus. Would you like to join us at the inn for lunch? I’m sure-”
“What the actual fuck is happening right now?” Regulus interrupted, glancing between them.
Remus smirked, leaning his hip against the wall. “I’m recruiting an ally for the cause. Can’t hurt, right?”
“Well, if you want allies,” James said, twirling the leash pointedly. “You need Padfoot’s approval, not mine.”
The dog perked up at his name. Remus tipped his head and studied him. Padfoot wagged his tail as he leaned forward for a sniff.
“Hello, Padfoot,” Remus said calmly. He offered his hand. “I’m your new best friend.”
“I’m surrounded by twats,” Regulus grumbled, swivelling on his heel to walk away.
Next Part>>>
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Obsidian | Preface | myg (m)
☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader
☾ Summary: You remember everything. The first time you radiated at garnet, feeling the power of the jewel rushing through you. Remember the energy pulsing at your command. And you certainly remember the face of the man who ruined your life. Then there’s Min Yoongi, the Chaotic who is the key to your revenge.
☾ Word Count: 1,020
☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut
❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Graphic depiction of death and body dismemberment, a lot of blood, Yoongi is brutally wounded/gutted, near-death experience, traumatic loss of parents, mention of suicide (not actual, but metaphorical), this is pretty blood and gory but not gratuitous? Death of a koi fish rip Agust the I.
☾ Published: April 22, 2023
☾ A/N: Don’t ask me to explain myself. I have no idea what I’m doing and my Aries moon is in full control of me and working me like a robot. This is a series or something I don’t know. I have no plans and no thoughts, just brain rot. Inspired by Jade City by Fonda Lee, the movie Colombiana, the movie Scarface and by my fuck it we ball attitude about writing what I want when I think of it. Also please note that the order of first and last names will be done in Western fashion in this, as this story does not exist anywhere real-world-adjacent and thus, will be first name > last name.❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
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Yoongi remembers the day he died. It was self-inflicted, a kind of suicide.
It goes like this.
Red stains on the tile, red stains on the carpet. His mother’s face, but not quite right. Missing the left side of her head, weeping crimson. Abstract. No jewels in sight, not even the throbbing onyx she constantly wears - constantly wore - her last line of defense. Her empty neck is more horrifying than the gaping wound in her head. It feels like Yoongi is seeing her naked.
Faintly, he hears voices. He’s too distracted, too caught up in the tang of blood as he steps over his unjeweled mother into the kitchen. High-pitched ringing in his ears, a violent headache.
Here is where the art is. Scarlet walls, a modern rendition of death. Upturned furniture, splintered. Bodies with faces he doesn’t know. Bodies with faces he does. Suri’s empty eyes stare up at the ceiling. Her garnet earrings are gone, ears ripped and bloody. Taken against her will and fast.
At the center of it all is his father, head missing.
No that’s not right. His head is a few feet over and staring blankly at the ceiling. Lights out, no one home. Yoongi doesn’t look at his father’s head- can’t or won’t, it doesn’t make a difference. Yoongi’s eyes go to his father's hands, looking for the jewels, expecting to see obsidian and onyx. There are no rings there, and the little sockets drilled into his father’s knuckles by Dr. Lowery are empty. Scarred-pink and lonely.
Yoongi never hears the man behind him. Doesn’t see it coming until he’s slammed from behind, a wall of radiant energy knocking him forward into his father. Yoongi screams - can’t help it. He rears back, pushing off of his father, but his hands slip and he’s shoving against a neck with no head. Sliding against the red-wet tile.
His stomach roils but there’s little time to think as he rolls to the slide, blood-slick and terrified. Yoongi is a little bit dazed as he blinks up at a familiar face leaning over him. He’s so shocked to see Yujun Kim leaning over him that at first, he doesn’t feel the knife carving out his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” Yujun says.
Yoongi thinks Yujun means about his parents, maybe. But then white hot pain blooms in his stomach and Yoongi screams, looking down to see the knife pulling down, opening him up. He screams and screams, but doesn’t hear what Yujun says as he pulls the onyx rings from Yoongi’s fingers and earrings from Yoongi’s ears. Yujun does this gently, as though he’s afraid to hurt Yoongi while his stomach is butterflied.
Nothing has hurt like this. Yoongi remembers when he was hit by a motorcar last year and shattered his shoulder, but it is nothing to the all-consuming pain of being cut open. Gutted like the fish that his father likes to eat on the weekends. Torn like his mother ripping open letters from her old school friends.
Yoongi thinks he cries out for his mom. At least he forms the words, tries to beg for her help. His dad is too dead to yell at him for being a mommy’s boy, so Yoongi screams for her. Wants her to wake up and crawl over to him and hold him together.
He’s just a child, after all. And he’s afraid of dying.
Unfortunately, Yoongi doesn’t die.
He doesn’t remember Yujun leaving him there, bleeding out and toeing the veil, ready to join his parents on the other side. Yoongi thinks he sees them, thinks he hears them calling to him. But there’s a stronger call, a vibration that pulls at him. That begins to itch. A frequency he can’t let go of.
Yoongi feels it more than he sees it and he starts slipping across the floor to where a single ring has rolled under the fridge. Yujun wouldn’t have noticed - couldn’t have noticed. Yujun radiates at onyx, never obsidian.
But now the obsidian calls to Yoongi and he slides toward it, hand pressed to his stomach, trying to keep his insides in. His hands are wet and sticky and he gags, feeling something slippery when he presses too hard on the wound.
The obsidian ring pulses, an invisible force under the fridge. Yoongi slides his hand under, gritting his teeth at the tight fit as he reach reach reaches. Just a little to the left. Almost. Almost. His fingers make contact with the ring and energy explodes through him.
A wave of high-frequency waves rushes through him. Yoongi lets out a guttural sound, somewhere between a yell and a gurgle as he lies on the floor, thinking it might be too late. But as the power surges through him, vibrating at a higher frequency than Yoongi has ever known, he realizes that he’s inherited this from his father. The ring and the power to radiate at both onyx and obsidian.
There on the kitchen floor, Yoongi radiates at obsidian for the first time. Feels his body stitch itself back together, itchy and hot and bothersome. When he’s done, he lays on the floor, sobbing up at the ceiling and trembling, adrenaline and radiate-sick.
Hours or minutes pass, he isn’t sure. But when Yoongi Min gets up and sees his home, painted with the blood of the people he loves, he decides to kill the kid that is Yoongi Min.
He leaves the soft boy who loves eating tangerines in the kitchen with Suri. Leaves behind the gentle plucking of the guitar strings late at night when the wind is not yet Autumn. Forgets about the way he loves to feed the koi in the backyard with his mother.
Yoongi Min is too soft to do what this boy, alone and bloodied needs to do. He knows that. His mother always calls - called - him her gentle boy, her dumpling. Her little sly cat of a son.
So Yoongi dies. And Agust emerges from the house, carrying only the name of his favorite fish that floats belly up in the koi pond, water still green with poison.
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#yoongi smut#yoongi fanfic#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fanfic#suga smut#suga fanfic#suga bts#bts fanfic#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi angst#minors dni#minors do not interact#mafia yoongi
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K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 13
Part thirteen of the fourth crossover with @whumpsday!
K&J masterlist
MMSS masterlist
K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist
To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday
Warnings: Domestic violence/spousal abuse
This is the last chapter of this story! HOWEVER, like we mentioned at the start, this AU actually has two different timelines. So keep an eye out for Part B, which is coming next :)
***
The intervening months have been peaceful and uneventful, even with Kane there.
Until one day, Valen doesn’t come home. Again.
Jim is going absolutely out of his mind with worry. The last time Valen went missing, it was the worst thing imaginable. The only thing worse would have been his death. He and Liz have been calling around to hunters, but no one's seen him. It wouldn't even make sense: Valan should have gone straight from Liz's district to vampire territory, and Valen is friendly with the local hunters, though Liz and Laken have been interrogating everyone anyway, as well as searching the area up to the border.
Jim can't sleep. The thought of Valen going through that again, or turning up dead, or never turning up ever again, has him hysterical. Kane tries his best to comfort him, but he's sick with worry too: he knows how cruel hunters can be.
And if it's not hunters... what else could have happened?
This drags on, with no word about his whereabouts, for weeks. Until one day, Jim gets a phone call, and when he answers, Valen's panicked, tearful voice is on the other end. "Jim!"
"Valen!" Jim screams. "Oh my god, you're alive! Where are you? I'll come get you, I'll bring you home, where are you?"
Kane is immediately at rapt attention, listening in.
Valen lets out a series of heartbroken sobs. "Jim, I'm at the Kithrara estate. My husband happened to find me when I came to vampire territory and forced me to come back. He's not letting me leave, he's not leaving me alone for even a second. This is the first time I've had even a minute alone to make a phone call and he's going to come back any second. Please, Jim, I don't know what to do, please help me."
Vampire territory. Valen is in vampire territory, Jim can't get him there. His heart clenches with despair, his eyes filling with tears. "W-what do I do? I can't even get there." He sobs, horrified that Valen is stuck with that monster again.
"I can get him." Kane says, determined, his chains tinkling as he moves closer. "I can bring him home."
"Jim, if-" Valen cuts off abruptly, but he can still be heard breathing heavily, and a man's voice distantly, talking menacingly. "Yes, sir," Valen's voice says far from the phone, and the line goes dead.
Jim cries out in anguish as the line drops. "NO NO NO!" He pounds the wall in despair, tears streaming down his face. He whips around to face Kane, also shaken.
"Please.” Jim drops to his knees, like he always used to. "Please, Kane... sir. I'll do anything. Please bring him home. You could, you could be free, just, just please help him get out of there. Please, c'mon, w-we've been good to you, right? Please."
Jim is under no illusions of how far promising Kane anything goes. Kane could condition it on taking him back, things going back to how they were before. Jim would do it, to get Valen away from that horrible abusive monster. He would give up being a person if he has to.
"Jim, it's, it's okay. I'll get him home, and come right back, and, and you don't need to do anything." Kane is honestly really relieved that Valen is in vampire territory instead of being tortured by hunters. He doesn't know the details about Valen's estranged husband, though if Valen is literally being imprisoned by him, that can't be good.
"Th-thank you, thank you, thank you. Kane, man, thank you. Please do it. Please please please, just, please." Jim is not entirely convinced Kane won't just fuck off the second he's set free. He would have no way to get Valen out, then. All he could do is hope for an eventual escape, and Jim knows firsthand how hard that is to pull off.
"I'll leave as soon as the sun sets. I promise, I'll find a way." Kane hesitates. This part is scary. "Could you... call Liz? I'd like to borrow her gear, and make sure that I can get to vampire territory without any of her colleagues... stopping me."
"Of course. 'Course, Kane. Thank you." Jim picks the phone back up.
***
That night, Kane shows up on the doorstep of the Kithrara estate, ready to raise hell. He doesn't even need to find Valen: all he needs to do is create enough commotion for Valen to escape.
He rings the doorbell.
A servant answers. "Hello? How may I assist you today?"
Kane dashes past the servant quite rudely, running straight inside. He pulls a stake from his belt and holds it up high.
"PRISCUS KITHRARA!" he shouts at the top of his lungs, hoping Valen hears. "Come out and face me!"
He is immediately swarmed by staff: a few servants, the ones brave enough to run towards instead of away, and a few moments later, security, who tackle him to the ground.
The landing at the top of the stairs leading from the entryway into the mansion proper is soon darkened by the presence of Priscus Kithrara, as well as an older vampire who looks to be his father. Priscus has Valen at his side, holding his arm, in a facsimile of protectiveness at the disturbance. Valen is in a modest dress that is not at all his style, and his eyes widen with hope when he sees Kane, but he stays silent.
"What is the meaning of this?" the elder vampire snaps. "Who do you think you are?"
"Go!" Kane shouts, not looking specifically at Valen, but hoping he gets the message. The door is still wide-open.
Kane is wearing several pieces of silver, and a little bit of struggle is all it takes to start burning the people holding him down. He wriggles his lithe body out of their grasp among the ensuing screams of pain, though he knows he'll no doubt be tackled again a few moments later. He has to act fast.
He grabs a silver-coated throwing dart with a gloved hand and throws it directly at Priscus.
It sticks into Priscus's shoulder, through his clothes, and he hisses in pain, reflexively bringing his hands to the injury. Valen bolts, flinging himself over the railing with his dress bundled in his hands.
"Valen!" Priscus thunders. He grabs the dart to tear it out, then yanks his hands back as the silver burns him, before growling and grabbing it again, ripping it out and tossing it away like a hot pan.
One of the security guards steps between Valen and Kane, intercepting Valen on his way to the door. Valen attempts to go around, and the guard crab walks to match, a high-speed game of chicken.
"Priscus, discipline your wife," the elder vampire growls.
Priscus reaches Valen before he can successfully exit the front door; Valen is smaller, and not as strong or fast as his husband, who is larger and stronger than Valen or Kane, and is also at a disadvantage of being in clothes not made to accommodate running. Valen is yanked back by a fistful of hair, yelping with pain as he's bent towards the floor under Priscus's iron strong hands. "What did we talk about?" Priscus growls.
This is bad. Kane needs the attention on him. What could he say to get Priscus to pay attention to him instead?
The most effective thing he can think of is unspeakably crude, and has a chance of backfiring and putting Valen in even more danger. But he's sure that nothing he could say would make Priscus focus more on him than this.
"I am Kane de Sang, and I fucked your wife!" Kane yells, his face heating up, mortified at his own words. "You're a spineless coward who needs a team of guards to face me instead of fighting me for him like a man!"
He's completely winging it. Obviously he will lose a fight with this man. All he needs is for Priscus to drop his guard for just a moment so Valen can get out the door. Just rip off the skirt and run!
Valen whimpers. "You little whore," Priscus hisses, slapping Valen across the face and throwing him to the ground. "I'll deal with you in a second." He turns to face Kane.
Inexplicable rage suddenly wells up in Valen at that moment. He's mostly just let the learned helplessness kick in until now, but for some reason seeing Priscus take Kane more seriously as a threat than Valen himself pushes Valen over the edge. "You will deal with me now!" he roars, throwing himself at Priscus, talons wrapping around his face and sinking into his eyes, blinding him. Dark black blood sprays out as Valen rakes his claws over Priscus's face, ripping at him with a ferocious wail.
Kane has an idea. It could be a very good idea or a very bad idea. But it's Valen's decision, after all. He doesn't have to take it.
"Valen!" Kane tosses him a stake.
Valen catches the stake in a bloody hand, looking shocked and overwhelmed. The room hangs in expectant, stunned silence for a moment, as the disobedient wife holds a stake near the sole heir of one of the most powerful families in the country.
Valen looks conflicted. Then his face screws up in anger, and he plunges the stake into Priscus's chest--not through his heart, but very, very close.
"Leave me the fuck alone," Valen hisses in his ear. "Or I won't miss next time."
He then very quickly strips his dress over his head and shoves Priscus away, tossing it over him, so he thrashes to untangled himself, still deathly afraid with the stake in his chest.
Now only in his bloomers and undershirt, Valen runs out the door and off into the night. Kane dashes off after Valen while everyone is stunned and paying attention to Priscus's disgraced state. The attention of the staff quickly turns towards making sure Priscus is alive and helping him, rather than chasing either of them ensuring a smooth getaway.
"Sorry for the crudeness!" Kane calls, feeling a desperate need to get that out of the way as soon as possible. "I just wanted his attention off you! That was amazing!"
Valen is laughing as he runs, from sheer joy and exhilaration. "Kane, my dear, it was a brilliant play, I wouldn't have had it any other way! Let's see that piece of shit come after his whore of a wife now! Hahaha! Thank you, Kane, I could kiss you!"
He's done good. Kane has finally done something right in his miserable life. His heart warms. "Save it for Jim! He's been inconsolable for weeks."
Jim, my poor Jim, I'm coming.
Valen has never run this fast, and doing it with a friend next to him is thrilling, and he playfully weaves in and out around Kane, zigzagging around obstacles and giggling. Knowing Priscus and that family, they wouldn’t dare come after him after this. Not when they’d seen Valen almost kill Priscus. They couldn’t risk the heir like that.
They’re finally done with him. He’s finally free.
He arrives home, the door banging open, his chest heaving, his eyes wide. "Jim!"
Jim leaps into his arms, having been waiting by the door ever since Kane left. He squeezes Valen as tight as he can, which is not all that tightly to a vampire, but still. He sobs into his shoulder. "I missed you."
Valen hugs Jim firmly back, then picks him up and does a little spin. "I missed you more."
"Are you okay? He's not coming back for you?" Jim asks anxiously.
"I'm okay now. And I don't think he will," Valen says. "I think he's finally got it through his thick skull that he'd be better off simply finding a new wife, if he values his wellbeing."
"Good, 'cause you're too busy being, being my boyfriend." Jim laughs tearily. He looks over Valen's shoulder to where Kane stands. "Thank you. Thank you for bringing him home."
"I'm glad I could help." Kane says with a smile.
"Oooh, Kane, take all that wretched silver off so I can finally give you a well-earned hug, would you?"
Kane beams, discarding Liz's things on the porch before coming inside. Jim doesn't let go of Valen, pulling Kane into a group hug.
***
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DISCLAIMER: THIS INFORMATION FOR THE DOAI CD AU IS OUTDATED. I WILL POST AN UPDATED VERSION EVENTUALLY
When I feel like it
& can properly flesh shit out
You’ll see it eventually.
FUCK YEAH!!
WRITING HEADCANONS FOR HORRIFYING MAN-EATING MONSTERS!! LETS GOOOOOO!!
I got this idea cause I knew I’d clutter up the og DOAI CD AU post if I just added all these goofy ahh headcanons into THAT post, so here we are.
Anyway uhhhh
Let’s go.
General shit:
• All six Veldigun go by their canon pronouns that have been confirmed in a recent Pastra stream. Clyde goes by it/its, Winfrey goes by they/them; Klaus goes by he/him, Jack goes by they/them, Simon goes by he/him, & Flock goes by it/its
• Veldiguns CAN eat actual foods, but they don’t gain anything from it. They’re void creatures, so that shit just gets obliterated from reality the moment it gets consumed. They do so just cause they enjoy the taste of whatever they eat… MOSTLY Clyde & Winfrey. The other four don’t really do that nearly as often, if at all.
• Mind consumption works like… reading through a book. You skim through it, you get a general rough idea of the entire thing, shit like that. The Veldigun don’t ever LET the minds of others warp them unless they ALLOW them to, i.e. gaining a certain impression upon skimming through the memories of a person they just consumed.
• All Veldigun actually look SO MUCH more grotesque & animalistic than they appear to humans most of the time. Their more cutesy cartoon appearance is just a result of them causing hallucinations, which is almost always unconsciously done by them.
• A Veldigun’s touch is only lethal if they WISH it to be so. It is a manual tactic that they can control, just as long as they aren’t accidentally spooked or something.
• Veldigun still sleep, just a lil less frequently than humans do. Some Veldigun definitely sleep more than others, but this is more so based on some of them choosing to continue hunting & shit instead of sleeping rather than it being for a specific biological reason.
• Yes. Clyde & Winfrey are canonically a ✨thing✨ in this AU & have been for quite a while by the time Winfrey got captured. They are very much gay & in love & you cannot stop me.
• The overall timeline for the series is a LOT more spread out than it was in the old DOAI lore. For instance…
- Clyde Lankmann, the first human Clyde the Veldigun consumed, was the man who started the Lankmann Foundation & died during the late 1800s. He wasn’t the first to die though as a “good friend” of his, William Winfrey, was tricked into walking right into one of the Veldigun’s clutches by Lankmann himself to be rid of the bothersome musician.
- Simon Lankmann died in the early 1900s after he cut ties with the Lankmann family altogether & started a family on a rather secluded farm (the whole family later being consumed by Simon the Veldigun).
-Klaus Kruger was a young man who died in the mid 1900s. The Krugers & Lankmanns were actually part of the same family tree at this point, with Klaus finding interest in the Lankmann family business. This interest led to them stumbling across Jack Walker, an incredibly impressionable boy who Klaus used as his puppet the second he laid eyes on the poor guy. The two would get up to all sorts of trouble regarding drugs & even murdering a few people, with Klaus in particular genuinely showing a sense of excitement over their wrongdoings.
- “Vincent” Lankmann is the most RECENT Lankmann to date in the timeline. He is around 50 years old when the AU takes place (aka the late 1990s) & is looking to find out how to kill a Veldigun so he can do the one thing his many predecessors before him could not: outsmart them.
Clyde:
• Clyde prefers to munch on fruits or fruit-flavored shit. Lemons are its favorite by far.
• Alternatively, Clyde HATES anything that even REMOTELY smells like garlic & onions, much like actual cats & lizards. Having them on hand won’t save a victim from Clyde, but it’ll at least force it to get crafty with catching you off guard or getting rid of that PUTRID smell first.
• It’s often seen having a rather bouncy & giddy personality, but this is because this is just what the lil goofball’s like around Winfrey or when indulging in its hobbies. Bro’s a lil shit around other people, ESPECIALLY ones that it doesn’t particularly like. It sort of acts rather emotionless or awkward around people it doesn’t know (who are not prey) by default.
• Despite that fact, Clyde has a LIL bit of an ego that tends to show from time to time, especially over its own crafts & actions. Because of this, it is a LOT more susceptible to getting embarrassed or self defensive than its partner, & will often hold quite a few grudges, sometimes for even the smallest of things.
• Clyde uses a lot of its free time to learn certain skills such as sewing & baking. Why? For Winfrey. Clyde was the one to make Winfrey’s outfit after all, & it quite enjoys making outfits for the both of them now that it’s gotten into the habit of doing so. As much as Clyde loves getting into a ton of different hobbies to keep itself doing shit constantly, they’re MOST of the time going to have something to do with Winfrey. Call Clyde a malewife & I will send the horde to fetch your soul for me WIWOWKWOWKDOOSKFKEEKKR
• It may be… not great at singing, but it still loves singing along with Winfrey whenever it can. Winfrey finds it adorable.
• Ever since it stole that one onesie from Grimmso’s & rescued Winfrey, it’s developed quite the interest for dressing up. Sure, not everything fits perfectly, but it enjoys trying on different outfits just for the heck of it.
• Since a lot of human clothes can already fit Clyde already, most of its outfit-making work is focused solely on Winfrey, making them into a bit of a fashion model for the lil guy. Winfrey may not always agree with whatever Clyde makes, but they both enjoy the process of it nonetheless since Clyde finds it really fun & Winfrey finds it incredibly adorable.
• Clyde is a crafty lil genius that often flexes its intelligence via petty means, such as overly elaborate pranks (that are often aimed at Klaus).
• Clyde despises Klaus due to Klaus just overall being a jerk towards everyone & despises Simon due to how much of a doormat it perceives the guy as.
• Despite being on the run from the entire continent, Clyde still likes to find certain cool places for it & Winfrey to hang out & have some fun at, such as abandoned or empty amusement parks, malls, all that jazz.
• There’s just something about collecting tiny lil trinkets & gizmos & other various Doo dads that delights Clyde. If it’s small & pretty, it’s most definitely going to grab the lil guy’s attention. Captain Quackers the rubber duck was one of these things of course, but Clyde has collected SO MANY other colorful & cute lil things in the past, some of which it has to leave behind since its collection will often get too much to move from place to place.
• Clyde is extremely intelligent when it comes to strategy & crafting… but lacks a bit of emotional & social awareness that makes it hard for the poor thing to empathize with anyone it is not super close to (aka if they’re not Winfrey) as well as properly understanding & handling its own emotions, which is one of the few things Winfrey has a leg up on it with.
• It ADORES rambling on about all sorts of topics they have a fascination with, especially regarding their knack for crafting. Even so, it’s only ever comfortable info-dumping to Winfrey.
I feel like giving y’all a cute nugget of info about the CD AU.
Winfrey:
• Winfrey has a HUGE sweet tooth & enjoys sugary things & baked goods. They can’t choose a favorite, but some of their favorite foods & drinks are cookies, chocolate candy bars, toffee, cupcakes, and hot chocolate. Overall, they prefer bite-sized treats rather than full-blown desserts, but they’ll take what they can get.
• Their spice tolerance is… well, horrible. Even smelling it makes them wanna gag. Unlike Clyde, having something spicy on hand will MOST LIKELY actually save you since Winfrey is nowhere near as crafty & clever like Clyde is. You could probably chase the big guy around with a chili pepper if you feel daring, but I personally wouldn’t recommend it… not just cause you’ll most likely die regardless, but also because that’s cruel & you shouldn’t be scaring poor Winnie like that. How fuckin DARE you??
• Despite being a bit of a dimwit, they ADORE music, especially orchestral or classical music. If they hear a famous century old song play in one way or another, you BET your ass Winfrey’s gonna identify that shit INSTANTLY. This stays even after being traumatized by Lankmann, which is something Clyde both finds adorable & is relieved by.
• Winfrey also admires more complex and intricate outfits, & would be THRILLED to wear something quite dapper if it wasn’t for the fact that… well… they’re fuckin HUGE. Clyde still tries its best to make the big guy look as nice as it possibly can though, & that’s good enough for Winfrey. JWOWKSKWKDKEKEO
• Winfrey’s mouth wasn’t ALWAYS closed like that. The only reason it’s currently a blank slate by default is because Winfrey did that to themselves back when Lankmann had JUST captured them & started interrogating them regarding Clyde’s whereabouts. Beeg guy thought they could give Lankmann the permanent silent treatment, but it didn’t turn out so well for them JAOWDKWOFKWOOD
• Even though they no longer have the bouncy personality they used to, they still get excited & bubbly every now & again, particularly when they & Clyde find a fun place to mess around in or when they get to talk about music… just in general KWOWMDOWKDK
• Winfrey is a lot more open to being social than Clyde, particularly due to their old fascination with humans & their culture. Even after what happened at the asylum, they don’t find it hard at all to empathize with others, sometimes even to an excessive degree. Even so, they are definitely more so a listener rather than a speaker & will rarely ever initiate the conversation.
• They can easily tear open their mouth to speak without feeling an ounce of pain. They can do this due to how their skin isn’t ENTIRELY solid & is still very much composed of classic veldigoop. This goopiness is mainly apparent for the skin that covers their mouth while the rest of the body is decently solid & hard to tear. This is also why Winfrey’s face-skin can easily and flawlessly reconnect after Winfrey is done talking: that shit can just mold back together into one solid piece like putting two chunks of slime together.
• Winfrey enjoys hearing Clyde ramble, no matter the topic at hand. Rarely do they ever understand a lick of what Clyde’s talking about, but they just like hearing Clyde so passionate & excited about something. That & its nerdy rambles are just adorable to listen to IWNWOWKWOWNEOWM
Didn’t know which of the two’s lil categories to put this in, so uh…
I’m putting this as it’s own separate point.
Whenever they can, Clyde & Winfrey like to hop on a train to get around.
Something about trains strangely comforts Clyde, & it almost ALWAYS falls asleep as soon as the two can find their way into a fairly empty & unattended train car to crash in.
Winfrey really enjoys the view they get to see on a moving train, especially during sunset.
Klaus:
• He & Jack actually spend a lot of time in America rather than Canada like the rest of the Veldigun.
• Klaus’ methods for murdering his victims (solo) often has to do with them either luring or simply picking children off the streets. He may enjoy using Jack to finish the job, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they ALWAYS have Jack do it.
• Klaus is ALL business, meaning he & Jack don’t do ANY of the cutesy fun shit that Clyde & Winfrey do. Hell, Klaus finds that shit repulsive. All Klaus & Jack do is kill & try not to get hunted down by the entire continent by moving from place to place CONSTANTLY.
• Despite him being all business… come on, that rat bastard’s definitely tried a cigar at least ONCE at some point. LOOK at them.
Jack:
• Jack sees themselves as just Klaus’ sidekick rather than his equal, obviously thanks to Klaus himself. Because of this, they have VERY little self worth & feels that abandoning Klaus for whatever reason would leave Jack with nothing.
• They never openly admit or display their own opinions on ANYTHING, ALWAYS agreeing with what Klaus says, even if they internally don’t agree in the slightest.
• Jack is actually jealous of Clyde & Winfrey with how strong their relationship is. Klaus may hate the two for being mushy & annoying, but Jack hates them because they can’t stand seeing the two doing much better & being far happier than Jack is.
• For killing, they are usually (in their box form) carefully placed in specific situations where Klaus knows there won’t be any unnecessary witnesses that they can’t catch. Once they’re confident their victim(a) are close enough that they can’t get away, Jack springs into action, preferring to chomp down on the victim’s skull or one of their limbs to incapacitate them so Klaus can come in & either watch them slowly pass or finish the job himself.
• Jack is NOT sadistic like Klaus is, but does not mind killing either because they just see it as a norm at this point. Like… yeah, they’re bummed they can’t eat what they hunt half the time, but it’s just how life do be, so they just roll with it.
• Jack can imitate a plethora of noises, particularly more industrial & mechanical sounding noises such as radio static or *metal pipe sound effect* JWOWKDOWKDOEFK
• They do not eat real food too often, but when they do, they prefer pizza. Doesn’t matter what’s on it.
Simon:
• Even though he never really talk when on his own or with the Flock, he CAN talk. He even happily welcomes any visitors that stop by if they ever catch on that he’s alive.
• Since be chooses to stay at the same farm that Simon Lankmann lived, he doesn’t get much word on what’s happening with the other Veldigun or… just anything in general unless he’s directly told shit by someone else.
• He can sympathize with pretty much ALL the other Veldigun (some more than others… Klaus being at the very bottom of that list for good reason) & do not resent them for continuing to consume the minds of people. He’ll still try to persuade them otherwise, but he’s still pretty accepting of all of them (except for Klaus). He definitely feels bad for Jack the most, always encouraging the big guy to come visit more often but Jack rarely ever takes the deal, fearing what Klaus would do if he ever found out about it.
• He enjoys the taste of corn, which he likes to share with the Flock as well… who will just down the whole ear. Overall, Simon loves any kind of edible vegetation.
• Only VERY FEW have seen what he looks like UNDER the cloth… & you, the reader, are not one of em, so I’m not describing what they look like to you. >:))))))))))
The Flock
• It’s not the brightest, but it can recognize a friendly face from a threat & will act accordingly. For instance, if it knows you’re a friend, it is GOING to demand pets. It’s inevitable. If you are an asshole doing asshole things, it’s going to peck at your head until you fuckin beat it.
• It enjoys eating corn, but it untimately prefers slices of bread. Why? Cause in the off chance that it gets spotted & acts cute enough, there’s gonna be some poor saps who feed it bread every now & again & give the big guy attention, & the Flock LOVES that. It loves receiving bread from kind strangers who don’t know any better. Popcorn also suffices.
• It has the ability to mimic noises like Jack can, but instead of anything industrial, it’s particularly animal noises as well as SOME human phrases, even if it doesn’t actually mean the phrases it sometimes says. So yes, you CAN teach the Flock to say “Fuck”, but Simon isn’t going to be too happy about it. NWIWKDOWOKDM
Lankmann
•
•
•
•
• Linda didn’t NEED to die. He could’ve just let Clyde be contained & gotten all the information he needed to kill these things for good. But he didn’t. Someone was getting too close to the truth, someone he couldn’t just make “disappear”. He needed a way to cover his tracks & be rid of the evidence. It just so happened that Clyde came at QUITE the opportune time. Linda wasn’t that talented of a doctor anyway. No one was going to miss her.
Zamn.
Anyway, I might update this if I think of more headcanons to add in the future, but this is all for now! Thanks for reading!
:)
#doai#dreams of an insomniac#cd au#doai cd au#pastra#pastraspec#Clyde#doai clyde#Pastra clyde#Winfrey#doai winfrey#Pastra winfrey#Clinfrey#Clyde x winfrey#Klaus#Jack#doai jack#Simon#doai simon#Pastra Simon#the flock#flock#doai flock#lankmann#tw death#tw mention of death
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LBTE: Jared (111-114)
New arc, and things get serious quick
If you want to read along, the series page is here. All previous parts under the 'liveblogging the end' tag.
111 - Change of Scenery
A new arc! One I believe I thought was the last. Spoiler alert: it was not.
And he knows that’s probably the most ungrateful attitude in the world, that every single hockey prospect in the entire province probably just felt a chill down their spine and went ‘someone isn’t appreciating the fact he’s in the fucking NHL’.
AND he’s defiled The Battle of Alberta.
“If you’re trying to make it harder to leave, it’s working,” Jared tells Bryce. Honesty is very important in a marriage.
“I don’t even want you to stay,” Bryce says, in possibly the worst acting job ever. The fact his arms tighten around Jared doesn’t help.
These two.
“Yeah,” Jared says, blows out a breath, gets one last kiss that doesn’t last long enough, then grabs his bags, Bryce hovering in the doorway when he walks down the hall like Jared’s going to trip and die on the way to the elevator, or maybe like —
“Quit looking at my ass,” Jared says without slowing.
“Training did you nice,” Bryce says in like, the sleaziest voice of all time, and Jared’s still laughing when the elevator doors close behind him.
THESE TWO.
“Okay, Halla,” Jared says, when it doesn’t abate as he heads to the front hall.
“Dinner,” Julius says when Jared opens the door.
“Hi, Julius, good to see you after months, I missed you too,” Jared says.
“Dinner,” Julius insists.
“Yeah, okay, I could eat,” Jared says, and Julius impatiently hovers while Jared puts his shoes on, grabs his wallet and his keys.
Jared's stray cat came back.
“Go be social with your team,” Jared says.
Bryce scoffs.
Still so far for Bryce to go! From this to slutty butterfly.
go b social go to bed ur so bossy, Bryce texts.
Bryce like ‘is he going to be even bossier now that we’re married? …that’s so hot’
112 - Stumbling Block
“I’ve been wondering if it’s too early to propose to my girlfriend,” Morris says.
Jared almost says ‘aren’t you a little young?’ before he realises that sounds patently ridiculous, considering Morris is at least a year older than him, and Jared’s currently wearing a wedding band.
20 years old, the AUDACITY of this boy. (Ben won’t propose for awhile, actually, but Vicki will, of course, say yes, and years down the line comes Liam’s godbaby/Luke’s fave niece Sadie)
“Just, you know, do it when it feels right?” Jared says uncomfortably. He’s not good at advice. Advice isn’t his thing. Does this ring mean he’s going to have to keep doing it? Not that he’ll take it off even if it does mean that, but it’ll suck.
Every single opportunity Jared has to mentor someone results in horrified backpedaling. Do not make this his responsibility.
“Got any pics from your wedding?” Johnson asks. He’s new to the team, picked up in free-agency, so Jared doesn’t know why he’d even care.
Jared: How dare he try to get to know me better upon meeting me, what the fuck is the matter with this guy?
“Not on my phone,” Jared says, and then Johnson, who apparently got married that summer himself, starts showing Jared picture after picture after picture of his own wedding, which is boring, but at least means he drops the subject. Jared’s pretty sure he just asked for an excuse to show all of his pictures, actually.
Trying to bond with a new teammate through a shared experience, what a fucking weirdo, right Jared?
His wife looks very pretty in her wedding gown, and Jared gets slugged hard in the arm for saying so, which he thinks is meant to be affectionate thanks? It hurts.
Jared sulkily rubbed his arm at least three times after that.
Rogers asked if he got married around Calgary, which is an easy question, and Morris asks why they haven’t ever met Jared’s spouse, which he can kind of side-step with a ‘it’s long-distance right now, they’ve got a job they love in Calgary’, and Jacobi asks him his wife’s name, which is — not one that’s easy to side-step. For a couple obvious reasons.
Jared shrugs. “It’s a secret,” he says, trying again to sound bored, probably failing.
Jared Matheson you made it a mystery. Never make it a mystery.
Jacobi waves a dismissive hand. “I’m just saying, the rookie’s fucking with y’all.”
Jared bites back an indignant ‘I’m not a rookie anymore’. It’s not worth it, and Julius will just roll his eyes again.
Jared living in fear of Julius’ disdain.
“Oh yeah?” Jacobi asks. “What’s his wife’s name?”
“It’s a secret,” Julius says without batting an eye, and Jared half wants to hug him, half wants to strangle him.
All hugs from me.
“Let the kid have some privacy if he wants it,” Rogers says, which Jared appreciates.
Whoooole lot of alarm bells ringing in Darryl’s head at this point — it ain’t his first rodeo.
He thinks Julius is smirking beside him, but he doesn’t check, because then he’d be obligated to elbow him.
TERRIFIED of Julius’ disdain. It doesn’t feel nice, does it Jared?
Jared takes back every single bad thing he’s thought or said about Darryl Rogers in his entire life. And it’s a long list, because he’s a good D-man and he’s been the enemy for like, a decade. All scratched. Good dude.
I cannot overstate how viscerally Jared has hated Rogers at points. Like, this guy’s been on the Enemy since Jared was a kid. He’s won games for the Oilers and made plays that lost the game for the Flames. And while he’s managed to let go of (most) of his Oilers angst, that one’s been around for a long time, and it’s one of the last things to go. But clean slate. Good dude. Rogers is a bro.
The Flames still apparently haven’t noticed Bryce is wearing a wedding ring. It’s hit pathetic level of obliviousness. Or maybe they have noticed, they just don’t care enough to ask Bryce about it.
Yeah it’s the second one, Jared.
Jared’s convinced Julius to actually start helping him in the kitchen, decided to tackle some of the more ambitious recipes provided by the team nutritionist, and sometimes the recipes fail and they suffer through it or order delivery, but sometimes him and Julius are sharing a silent, proud nod before shovelling greatness into their mouths.
The friend Jared deserves <3 The next generation of Mathesons will eat well.
The first indication there’s something officially rotten between Jared and Oilers management is, well — it’s not subtle.
Just a general all-round ugh for everything to do with Deslauriers.
His parents always warned him about the hazards of being a gay pro athlete, about the homophobia in the league, and it’s not that he didn’t believe them, he absolutely believed them, but he just — he doesn’t know. Figured he’d be the exception? Hoped, at least.
Again, he’d argue, but he’s an optimist at heart.
112 - Succor
Jared has to call Greg now, he guesses. His parents are probably both working, Bryce he needs to save for last, and Greg’s job is literally Jared. Among other players, obviously, but still. He should call Greg.
Greg doesn’t pick up, so Jared leaves him a message that it’s important and finishes his Gatorade, staring at the blank TV.
He’s poured himself a glass of water — hydration’s important or whatever — is halfway through it when Greg calls him back.
Just including the end of this sequence, but the entire start of this part Jared’s gone so hard into repressing his anger he’s hit full on dissociation.
“Greg?” Jared asks. “You still there?”
“You know what this is, right?” Greg asks.
“Deslauriers being a fucking asshole?” Jared asks.
“Well,” Greg says. “Yes. But he’s targeting you professionally for your personal life.”
“I mean, I figured that out, yeah,” Jared says.
Greg, ten minutes into the call: WAIT, THIS IS HOMOPHOBIA.
Jared: Yes please keep up.
Poor Greg, he’s so out of his depth.
“And Halla excepted, the ones who know are punishing you for it,” Greg says. “Jared, you don’t have to play for a front office that is personally targeting you. If you want — I can’t necessarily make anything happen, but if you want to request a trade, or I can contact the NHLPA and file a—”
I know this sounds like it’s stating the obvious (and it is), but Greg is just straight up having the realization now because he really didn’t think any of this would fall out the way it did, like, it’s the 21st century, who cares anymore, right?
(Dave knew.)
Greg sighs. “I know you do,” he says, like it isn’t news to him. It’s news to Jared, how much he wants to stay. “Keep me updated, okay? On anything. If he so even walks through a door you’re holding open without saying thank you, I want to know.”
This is a serious crime in Canada.
His dad calls him back within a minute. “On my way to one,” his dad says, with faint distance like he’s driving, using the hands-free. “What’s up, bud? Is Julius coming for dinner? Obviously he’s welcome, I just need to know so I know how much food to make, you guys pack it away.”
Julius is already so welcome in the Matheson household, which is going to serve him well in the future. Don accepted an Oilers player into his household before he was even dating his daughter! (Well. Two Oilers players. One was his son, so he didn't have much of a choice, even as an avid Battler of Alberta)
“Sorry,” Jared says.
“Don’t be sorry,” his dad says. “Deslauriers should be fucking sorry. If I got him in a room he’d be—”
Jared bites down a smile, what feels like his first real one of the day.
Don and Jared are so often at cross purposes in the narrative that it’s always nice when Don is 100% on Jared’s side.
“They can do whatever the fuck they want,” Jared snaps. “I’m not you, Bryce, if the Flames scratched you the entire city would be speculating about what the fuck got their star player scratched. They can do whatever they want to me, doesn’t matter if it makes sense, doesn’t matter if it’s just out of spite, and I can’t do shit, and they know it, and they’re making sure I know it. This is just—”
It’s a message. They can do whatever the fuck they want, they can make Jared sit out a game against his husband, they can make Jared sit out a game in front of his family, they can make Jared sit out a game in his hometown. They can do whatever the fuck they want, and they have.
Message received.
Jared has no interest in bullshit power games, it’s not a tongue he speaks, but he can read it fluently.
“I can’t believe you’re on his side right now,” Jared says.
“I’m on your side,” his mom says. “I’m always on your side. But I know you, Jared, as much as you like to think you’re unknowable, so I’m asking you, right now — when you’ve been meeting with Deslauriers, have you been rude?”
“Well, apparently polite’s rude now, so probably,” Jared says.
“Defensive,” she says. “Combative. Distant. Unwilling to listen.”
Not that Jared has no right to be, he obviously does, but — yeah, Susan has her finger on it. There has been a chill.
(Also 'as much as you like to think you're unknowable' is as absolutely savage as it is accurate)
“In any other industry your front office would be opening themselves up to a lawsuit with this, because this is textbook retaliatory practice. I’m furious for you. But Jared, you need to pay attention to how you come off. You’re not Bryce, you can’t antagonise your management.”
Jared doesn’t know if she means that he’s not as good as Bryce, which is accurate, or that she’s implying Bryce has antagonised Flames management, which is — also accurate, but either way he’s pissed.
“Sorry,” Jared says. “I’m so terribly sorry my marriage has been mildly inconvenient for my management, of course they’re right to scratch me, because otherwise how else could I learn—”
“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Jared,” she interrupts. “You’re still young, and I don’t think you realise—”
Susan’s seen a lot of people’s attitudes sink them, and she doesn’t want it happening to Jared This… may not be the ideal time for her to state this. None of the Mathesons are good at holding their tongues when they’re upset. Susan’s typically the best of the bunch, but then, she's quite upset.
Julius has the same protest as everyone else, that he’s playing well, and Jared still appreciates it, maybe extra from Julius, who’s protesting like he’s annoyed his line is getting worse. Not that Greg, his dad, Bryce didn’t mean it about Jared’s play, not that they wouldn’t know what good play looks like either, not just in general, but good play for Jared in particular. But with Julius it’s less ‘why are they scratching you, then?’ and more ‘how dare they take my linemate away? You being scratched personally inconveniences me and I am not here for it’.
I love that Julius being upset for selfish reasons makes Jared happy.
“I could—” Julius says.
“Don’t,” Jared says, before he finishes whatever he was about to offer. Jared’s pretty sure the best thing for him, for this stupid fucking situation, is to grit his teeth and smile and bear it, that Julius protesting, or talking to Deslauriers, anything like that, would just set Deslauriers against him more.
Jared is correct.
114 - Rejection
The Oilers go to Calgary. And like, Jared’s not excluding himself in that. He’s on the flight, obviously, because scratched players travel with the team — the whole point of having more dudes on your roster than on the bench is so they’re there if someone gets hurt or sick last minute, or like, married a Flame and is subsequently getting punished for it.
All common occurrences.
It’s not a long walk to his apartment, and he feels this fundamental sense of relief as soon as he walks in the door, gives the concierge a smile and a wave as he heads for the elevator. Home.
Hi James! (Add him to the name twin pile with all the Mikes and Not-Mikes, Matthews (given and surname), and multiple unrelated Bradleys)
Jared barely hears Bryce’s key in the lock before Bryce is behind him in the kitchen, chin on his shoulder and hands curling around his hips. He must’ve like, sprinted it.
He didn't walk, I'll tell you that.
“If you want to eat you can’t distract me,” Jared says, and Bryce digs his chin in harder before he kisses Jared’s neck, making it very clear where lunch lies on his priority list.
“No lunch?” Jared asks.
There’s a hint of teeth in the next kiss.
Bryce has priorities. Lunch is not on the list.
“We are not having sex in the kitchen,” Jared mumbles against Bryce’s mouth as he fights Bryce’s shirt buttons, and Bryce makes a disagreeable noise in response, but starts steering them towards their room, so that’s good.
Jared has sacrificed his safety for shower sex, but he draws the line at health. No kitchen sex. They make food there. Okay, he makes food there.
Every time he thinks Bryce has reached the plateau of being the best at blow jobs, he figures out how to make it even better. It’s like. There’s probably a hockey metaphor in there, applying himself to his game, getting on the scoresheet, something, but Jared’s too come dumb to think of one.
I admire Bryce's dedication to be the best at all his passions: hockey, marriage, sucking dick.
Hmm,” Bryce says, and kisses Jared’s shoulder in a blatant violation of the no-touching policy. Jared will allow it.
Well that edict lasted ten seconds.
He cuts it close: less than a minute after curfew there’s a curt knock on the door. Jared exchanges a glance with Julius, a silent ‘who’s stuck getting up?’, but considering Jared’s probably the reason it’s happening — they periodically check in on at least the ELC guys to keep them honest, but Jared suspects this is not a random spot check — he gets up and goes to the door.
“Good kid,” Mulligan says, then turns on his heel and walks away.
Mulligan hates everything about this situation.
Mulligan didn’t even check if Julius was there. He could have been out partying.
lol, okay Jared.
Julius is bobbing his head to whatever Finnish death metal band he’s obsessed with at the moment — they all sound the same to Jared, and he bets they would even if they were singing — screaming? — in English — while peeling an orange with his teeth like a total weirdo.
I love him.
He shoots the nauseated face Julius’ way.
Julius looks down at his phone when it buzzes, then pushes his headphones down, scowling at Jared. “What?” he asks.
“Peel the orange with your hands,” Jared says.
He really should have expected the half-peeled orange that comes flying his way.
“Go back to your husband,” Julius mutters.
“Would if I could,” Jared says.
Brothers <3
Jared works very hard on keeping his face completely stoic when the goal goes in. It helps that Bryce just scored on Jared’s goalie, which tempers the flare of vicious satisfaction he feels, thinking of Deslauriers’ face right now. Jared doesn’t like it when people score on his goalies, and that includes his husband. It’s rude.
Poor etiquette to score on your husband's goalie.
They’re wheels up in nine hours. Less than ninety minutes until curfew, and maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he should have gone back to the hotel to stew instead of getting not enough of Bryce again, the time so short he’s just going to feel worse when he leaves, feel cheated. He would have seen even less of Bryce if he was playing, so it’s not the scratch, except it is, it’s the scratch, and the distance, and he puts his fucking ass on the line every single time he steps on the ice, worked so fucking hard to get there, and —
Jared’s so tired.
Oh Jared.
“They gave you first star, right?” Jared asks into Bryce’s chest.
“Yeah,” Bryce says.
“Good,” Jared says. “You deserved it.”
"Thanks,” Bryce says, then, “Sorry,” and Jared closes his eyes when he feels Bryce’s lips brush his hair.
Oh buds.
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So we are at the end of the road on something that has always been about the journey, not the destination. I’ve taken my time to gather some thoughts. This blog has meant a lot to many people, not the least of which is me.
I’ve had a hard time these last few years – I think it’s been hard times for everyone, in one way or another. Personally, I seem to remember discovering this blog not too long before I had a breakdown and handled it very poorly, making bad decisions that cost me a lot of friends, or at least people whom I thought were my friends up until a breaking point. (Your blog was unrelated to this). When I came out of hospitalization I had a few things to rely upon – a video therapy group was one, certain family members and, well, as silly as it sounds, hitting up tumblr for my daily dose of Sweary She-Ra to make me laugh.
And then in mid-January, 2023, one of the people who was closest to me in my entire life died suddenly of technically unknown cause but considering his health issues, probably a heart-issue. It was sudden and devastating. We shared She-Ra and the Princesses of Power together because he was kind of curious about it and I was a nostalgia-fan of the ‘80s series. We both became massive fans of Entrapta. In fact, my nephew / best friend got me into the fandom in the first place because he had a silly idea for a fanfic about Entrapta wrecking havoc in the Fright Zone just post first-season and had little confidence in his fanfic writing, but decided to pass along said idea to me, an inveterate fic-writer for many fandoms. I was put through the wringer this year – it’s the first time I’ve been in partial charge of a memorial service. I am feeling better now than I did at the beginning of this year because I’ve found the strength to keep doing things that he and I liked to do together and time helps.
And again, in all of this, I had a silly little comic where a sparkly purple princess calls people “twattingler,” others make liberal use of the word that originally meant Fornication Under Consent of the King, one character swears all the time but apologizes for it, one character is contractually obligated to use Ned Flanders style cursing and there’s a fourth wall breaker and an incompetent boss with indecipherable accent and Marxist unicorns and all the rest. No matter what was happening with my emotions I could just… take a little break and look at the funny fancomic.
Sweary She-Ra for me has been like a warm mug of tea on a cold day or a bowl of baked macaroni and cheese with a butter-cracker crust made out of the old 1960-70 something Betty Crocker cookbook. It’s been Internet comfort food that has been sorely needed at times.
So thank you. I just want to thank you for this funny little fan project. I don’t think you have any idea how much it has meant to your audience.
@freedfromthegalactichivemind
And I don't know if the audience has any idea how much it has meant to me!
When I started this, things were pretty shit, weren't they? Here in the UK we'd just come out of the second Covid Lockdown, with the third expected to happen imminently; the weather was miserable, we'd barely seen our friends in months, the world in general just sucked. And I'd love to say that I felt a calling to break through that with some humour, but no... it was nothing like that. This is what happened...
And so it all went from there.
I almost just went for random scenes as I thought of them, rather than starting from the beginning. But I thought "Eh, fuck it, let's see how far I get", and the rest is history.
Even as the storylines got more complex (bear in mind, I started purely with the intention to do the original script with a few swear words peppered in), I always wanted to keep things upbeat. The painful moments are those 'this is the good stuff, hurt me more' moments rather than actually horrifying things - I know there's been a couple of exceptions, but in general it's held true.
But I've always been driven by one thing - the world isn't very funny right now; it's stressful, sometimes downright terrifying. And if I can alleviate that for ten, twenty seconds per day and make that tiny bit of difference to someone, then I consider that a job done. I'm not out here claiming to have the cure for depression, or some kind of plan to save the world, but I (hopefully) can make a few people smile in the midst of all the shit that's happening, even if it's just for a moment.
So much has changed in the last three years, but this blog has been such a central part of my world, it'll be weird when it's over (maybe that's why I don't want to stop there!). But if this coming Friday really is the last chapter in this part of my life, I'll still be happy that it happened. And if you've ever smiled or laughed at the blog, I'm happy that happened as well.
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Liveblog 2: Still trying to finish episode 1.
Crocosec is a butcher, Tortue sells weapons next to him, and Kanigroo is a florist.
Julie's hair salon is right across from Kerubim's boutique.
INSTANT love. Their friendship is so important.
Is this a random observation of details, as is this blog's entire premise? No. But I am going to add this to the post nevertheless.
Solomonk, btw. The kanji here is "金", which means gold/metal in Japanese and Chinese.
Keke's yarn ball addiction that will be referenced in a future episode. Yet, he also knits using them, as shown in a few places in canon, so not all hope is lost. I am not screenshotting all of them.
I love these two so much... You can probably tell by my two 10k word fanfics that have tags like "fluff", "child neglect", "psychological horror", and "Joris should hunt Kerubim for sport (positive)"
You will notice that this is a theme with this series, but Joris grows to have a bit more mature of s view on Kerubim, realizing that his father is a very unreliable narrator, and a flawed person.
While Dofus Livre 1: Julith has some writing issues (Bakara should have been sadder and Khan should be on-screen less often), it wraps this arc neatly, by completely taking Kerubim off that pedestal in Joris's mind.
As well as destroying the notion of pedestals for Joris in general, ruining his life, and making him very disillusioned. But we'll talk about The Horrors when we get there.
There are other horrors to talk about, after all:
Simone is this close to calling the twelvian analogue of CPS. And she should have. I am going to hunt Kerubim Crepin for sport.
The stairs are a tripping hazard and there's a knife just randomly laying there. Very normal parenting.
Then there's the horrifying bookcase that is going to fall someday and kill everyone.
There's a lot to unpack here in general, but I demonstrated 3 ways I think Joris could accidentally kill himself in this household at the ripe age of 7. Especially the with murdershelf.
Btw have I said that he has lived in these conditions for his whole life. I think we don't talk about that enough. I will hunt Kerubim Crepin for sport.
He's literally so mean. This man has bewitched me soul and mind. If he said this to me, I would die on the spot from embarrassment.
The way he's trying not to die of laughter or make fun of this guy is actually insane.
There's not enough words in the english, french, or other languages to describe how shit of a parent Kerubim is btw. why the fuck is there meat there. Then there's the random fish skeleton. Then the random rotten apple and another piece of meat with an AXE in it. And using a monster as a disposal device.
I am going to hunt him for sport, have I mentioned that?
Here's a confirmation that even though it's never mentioned, Incarnam does exist in the TV series Dofus and Wakfu.
Kerubim's half of the sleeping room is notably more run down...
I will be real Kerubim's depression nest is actually so sad. Being mentally ill doesn't excuse bad parenting, but yeah. Just... a horrible familial situation all around.
Bonus Screenshots: Joris looking like a bug. + Simone's lesbian stare of hatred towards Bob from Bonta.
#ro liveblogs dofus#dofus#wakfu#krosmoz#kerubim crepin#joris jurgen#because I said enough about them for this to be tag-worthy#ep1
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Round 1 - Side A
Propaganda below ⬇️
Pastry
GOD girlie gets a vision of the past showing her the truth of her and all cookies creation, and chooses to keep believing the lies she was fed because she doesn’t know any other way
this girl SO TRAUMATIZED IT'S UNREAL. She's on the tipping point from cult victim to cult persecutor and it hurts sooooooo bad. So Cookie Run Kingdom Tower of Sweet Chaos spoilers but it's unclear what happened to her to make her join, or if she was born into it, or something else, but it *is* clear that she's completely unaware of modern society outside of the Order and is 100% convinced this is how all Rational And Correct people act (hint: It's Not) so she acts all confident and rational but she's actually paranoid as FUCK. She's constantly quadruple checking every single thing she does, every single thought she has and emotion she feels, to make sure it's in line with the Order's expectations of her. She wants that praise and affection SO BAD because everyone's literally SO connection starved!!! And to make it worse, she's sent on a mission to purge all the Cakes living around the Oven the Cookies & Cakes were created in, and on it she encounters the overarching antagonists (this is so in depth but it's literally a micro-plot the lore of this game is INSANE. Sprawling fantasy, political drama, CRK is incredible) and is made aware of the fact (along with the player, whom probably is flipping their shit) that THE COOKIES WERE CREATED BY THE WITCHES SO THEY COULD *EAT THEM.* So her entire life has been shattered but also she's still under the impression that THIS IS ALL SHE HAS. From her perspective it's either this or she becomes what she thinks is a terrible horrible evil worst person on Earthbread Ever. So she goes back and she's like Reverend Mother (real name) I found out the most horrible thing. And her superior is like Ah. *I know.* And she convinces her that she's learnt some horrifying secret that nobody else can know otherwise it'll hurt them too, so SHE STAYS AND GETS WORSE. It drives me CRAZY this place is so bad. This is in motherfucking COOKIE RUN KINGDOM. This game is so dark and graphic it's unreal. Also literally everyone in the Order is a girl for some reason and it's never explained why??? Do they not recruit men??? If they're self sufficient what do they do with the men??? Do they kill them??? Do they convince them they're Actually Just Girls But Different??? Neither would surprise me at this point like actually
hope she explodes
She’s a cookie nun belonging to an order that worships the witches who baked the cookies. She later learns that cookies were baked to be eaten and that all this time she’s been worshipping MONSTERS AND HAS A FAITH CRISIS. RELIGIOUS TRAUMA AF
Angel
I don’t remember if he was Catholic as a human (he was Irish like a few hundred years ago so probably) but his guilt complex as a vampire is so fucking massive it has to be Catholic lbr
well he's from 1700s ireland so. theres that. he's (for most of the series) the only vampire with a soul and he uses that soul to feel really guilty for everything all the time. he moves to LA and starts saving people from demons to try and atone for everything he did while he was a soulless vampire
he makes exactly one facial expression and its |:<
#pastry cookie#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#angel buffy#buffy the vampire slayer#angel the series#cct polls#tumblr tournament#tumblr bracket#tumblr polls
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i think what irked me when rereading pjo, especially whilst having an interest in greek mythology too, was the portrayal of medusa, ares and the aphrodite cabin (mostly in the first few books).
tw: sexual/physical/emotional abuse, violence
cause wdym ares is basically just another deadbeat cunt, portrayed as a massive bully and he’s implied to be abusive to his kids - something we don’t even know the full extent of too. like when he had that convo with clarisse (sea of monsters i think, i can’t double check i don’t have my books with me rn). the girl is fucking terrified of him mate. she may be his favourite daughter but she’ll never be a son. i feel like the series only highlights his negative traits bc he is the god of war…. like he’s also the god of courage!! protector of cities, the amazons!! he bestows upon them his fighting spirit!!! his daughter was literally the queen of the amazons!! most if not all the olympians have committed heinous ass shit - i mean 2 of the big 3 are literally infamous sex offenders… (whole other topic of like these omniscient beings - literal gods - being like a reflection of humanity in a sense.. WAIT now I wanna go on deep dive… i’m getting distracted). i think my guy also got tried for murdering one of poseidons other crotch goblins because he raped his daughter (I DONT REMEMBER NAMES). another one of his daughters is literally the goddess of harmony - he isn't necessarily just producing devil spawn. i think he has two other kids with aphrodite uhhh phobos? and someone else, god of fear and actually I think this is irrelevant MOVING ON. MY POINT IS HE'S SO GIRL DAD CODED. HE'S A GOOD DAD !!! BRO IS LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH APHRODITE DAWG. HE TREATS HER LIKE A QUEEN, THE GODDESS THAT SHE IS!! bro has daddy issues and knows what it feels like so he treats his kids better! DO HKM SOME JUSTICE RAAAAH!!
i’m also aware of the different interpretations of medusa’s story (not gna get into allat rn tho). ya know general story, she was a priestess of athena who poseidon forced himself upon in athena’s temple so then girl got turned into a gorgon (some victim blaming on athena’s part idk claiming it was sacrilege etc/poseidon what the actual fuck). she’s often portrayed as a horrifying monster - later stories alluding to how she was both extremely beautiful (and terrifying) blah blah u get it. anyway it didn’t really dive into her story and just painted her as this insidious villain i suppose (tbh understandable for a 12 yo percy’s pov when this woman is trying to KILL him). then she obviously got beheaded - AGAIN must i add. also giving birth to pegasus (+ chryasor me thinks?) like good lord, girl is going thru it, she deserves sm better. though as far as I know (haven’t watched ep yet) she’s much more fleshed out in the show and you can see her humanity - yay!!
this bit is only in the very first few books but how the entire aphrodite cabin was shown just made me feel a bit icky. but later on in the story we have the kids having much more of a presence etc (silena leading the ares cabin bro!!!).
anyway think i’m done rambling for now, dunno if there are any other things i shoukd get into. uh feel free to add to or correct me if i’m wrong >_<
#im frothing at the mouth#like a fucking rabid dog#i feel feral#i cannot stop thinking about this stupid show#im going to pick apart my brain tbh#i cant take it anymore#what if i just#fucking explodes#losing my sanity#perchance#HAHA#anyway#pjo#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo tv show#pjo fandom#pjoverse#percy jackson and the olympians
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