#i feel emotionally drained after writing this but shit is important | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

penvisions · 2 months

Text

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress.

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time.

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain, you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided. “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @merz-8 @morning-star-joy @joelsgreys @orcasoul @sawymredfox @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag @pascalpvnk @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @idontknowyou-12345 @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @fluff-lover @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @communism-bitches @formulafun @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @ohhellotherebumblebee

295 notes · View notes

saturn-sends-hugs · 1 year

Text

OK, finally writing out my thoughts for ep9 (cause MAN AM I EMOTIONALLY DRAINED RN 😭)

Honestly this is gonna be more of a character deep dive of how they’re all functioning post ep8 but HERE WE GO

(spoilers under the cut)

First off, oh. my. god.

I’ve seen some people saying that episode was filler and to that I say WHERE. Did you see all that character development??? Like yes we didn’t get a big Empire plot or anything but like??? Hello???

This episode was SO important for so many reasons:

First off, Echo is gONE AAAAAA 😭😭😭 Was i devastated? yeah, maybe, a little bit, but i was fully expecting this episode to just brush past that and it DIDN’T.

I feel like much of the time Echo seemed almost unnecessary (stick with me here). You have this elite clone squad with all these enhancements and skills, so what are they gonna do with this fifth member? This always felt like a theme for me, especially in fics, that Echo would feel like an extra and struggle to find his place in the squad (Which isn’t true, he’s very necessary, but until now that’s been hard to see).

After Crosshair leaves, it changes a bit. The Batch is used to working with only four members, so although losing Crosshair obviously shook them, they held together (in part because they had to focus on Omega and other things). So here, Echo can step in and fill Crosshairs role somewhat as lookout or copilot or whatever, and he always backs up the others in their roles as well.

Echo is a good friend to Wrecker, able to joke around in ways Hunter (as the leader) and Tech (just not jokey in that way) can’t. He’s there for Hunter as Corporal; second in command and just generally another leading figure (like in season one when Hunter is captured and he leads the Batch through Kamino). Echo backs Tech up in pretty much every way, like just generally knowing what Tech is talking about and how to help (copiloting, ship maintenance, brother handling, etc). And of course, Echo is so so good with Omega. He teaches her to use her bow, he knows how to be a bit more disciplined than Hunter while still being super attentive and sweet, he is simply Mom™️.

And then he leaves.

Not gonna get too deep into that because we all know his reasoning, but while I expected this episode to focus on the Batch working without him, I didn’t expect them to show us how they struggle once he’s gone. Because holy shit they do.

Obviously, Omega is most noticeably affected. She’s struggling with a part of her family, someone she never wanted to think of leaving, being gone now. But the others are struggling too, and that’s only making things worse. Wrecker and Tech are fighting, which although she’s somewhat used to that, this time they’re not stopping. Hunter isn’t doing anything about it either, and none of them are saying anything about Echo being gone. She’s thrown off, no one is acting like themselves (because they’re missing Echo too although she can’t see it yet), and oh right, THEY JUST LOST THE MARAUDER.

But now for the others.

The minute they stepped off the Marauder in this episode, they felt wrong. And none of them really mentioned it or outwardly showed it that much, but they missed Echo too.

Wrecker was off. He’s stuck with just Hunter, Tech and Omega now, and he’s being affected by all their emotions. In the past, Crosshair was who he could joke around with, a role Echo filled afterwards. Now, Hunter and Tech just don’t fill that role, and while Omega might normally, right now she’s definitely not feeling up to it. He’s sensing the tension there, and everyone’s emotions are just setting him on edge, so he’s getting rowdier, more argumentative. He doesn’t mean to be, but he’s upset and he’s struggling.

Next, Hunter is doing what he always does: trying to move on. He’s not ignoring it per se, and I’m not the best at understanding Hunter, but it seems like he’s just trying to keep the team going. And again, it’s more of a challenge without Echo. The fights that used to spark up, Echo would help handle. Or better yet, they wouldn’t be real fights because Wrecker and Tech wouldn’t be so on edge. Hunter is struggling to keep them on track without him, especially with so many other factors at play (Omega being upset, new dangerous mission from Cid, Marauder is gone, how much more can go wrong wait no Mr Filoni please don’t answer that).

And of course, Tech misses Echo. Yeah, he seems really cold and uncaring in this episode at first glance, but OMG that is the furthest from the truth. I honestly think Tech is struggling the most without Echo to fill in that fourth role. Tech always tends to want everything working smoothly, and without the help of a fourth member, Tech is really stretching himself in order to accommodate. And on top of that, he just really misses Echo. When Omega tries to call Echo, Tech immediately knows he won’t respond because his comms are off. And why might he know that?? Well to me it seems like Tech already tried calling him, probably long before Omega did 🥲

Tech in this episode is just at the end of his rope. He’s way less lenient than he might normally be with Echo around, because now he feels like it’s on him to almost be that “second in command”. Normally, Tech can just focus on his work and let the others handle themselves/each other. So when Wrecker drops the case in this episode, normally Tech would trust him to have it handled, and they’d all move on. Instead, Tech takes the case himself. To me this is pretty familiar cause ahem autism, which is a very fitting trait for Mr “I process things differently but I still feel just as much” Tech to have. I struggle to let people get things wrong, and at this point, on edge and pushing himself too hard, Tech is so over it that he decides the only way to get it done is to do it himself.

Edit cause damnit tumblr didn’t save for some reason but basically up until now, we haven’t truly seen how much Echo does for this squad. Yes obviously we’ve seen that they all love and appreciate him, but now that he’s gone we’re truly seeing how important he is, and I just think that’s so so good to see!!! He’s not just the Mom that keeps them from fighting, he’s also just a genuinely necessary and important member with his own role in keeping this squad together.

Basically, ECHO YOU BETTER GET BACK HERE RN I STG—

(no but really, they genuinely do need him 🥲)

So yes, Echo left and the Batch needs Mom back. But it’s not just because Echo was the responsible one with brain cells (although thats also true), it’s also because he is genuinely a necessary part of this group, not just an honorary member to fill in space for Crosshair. We saw in this episode what happens when you take him out of the equation, and it was bad. That right there made just me happy because despite him being gone, it was very clear that nothing would just be “fine” without him, and the batch needs him way more than he probably thinks 🥲🥲🥲

Ok uh I didn’t mean for that to be so long bUT LISTEN, I just think there was so much to that episode and I could talk abt it for HOURS, THEY NEED THEIR BROTHERRRR

#feel free to add on to this!!! i want to hear y’all’s opinionsssss #tbb spoilers #sw tbb spoilers #tbb s2 spoilers #sw tbb #tbb s2 #tbb echo #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb omega

76 notes · View notes

heliographe · 2 years

Text

hey, dream fans. dream fan here.

i dont use twt, i dont rlly follow any people who cover drama and so i found out ab the grooming allegations from the people i do follow vague posting ab it. which-- alr, im writing this just to vent and ill probably delete it later so here we go

im a bit annoyed at many peoples-- fans of dream-- response to this. a lot of its emotional, people being devastated by the news that a cc theyre so attached to is potentially a pedo. like yeah, fuck, that is pretty upsetting on its own. but where is the logic . the critical thinking. come on, people. you are capable of it. ive seen how capable you are.

now. to be fair a lot of the ppl i follow are young and very emotionally invested in this man and use twitter, and if i know anything about the damn internet its that twitter is some kind of fuckin virus. its emotionally draining, it is practically made for going after your sensitivities and insecurities and hopes and fears and all that shit.

the second i figured out the entire situation , i knew it wasnt true. dream is not a damn pedo, or a groomer, or whatever stupid big trigger word theyre throwing at him. and its simple why i know, why its so goddamn obvious.

its DREAM. and i say this with full confidence bc ive heard him talk. about his aspirations , his mistakes, his feelings, ive seen him act it out. weve seen it.

he lives with two extremely close and clearly stable, smart friends. he has many other friends who vouch for him, who have shown integrity and intelligence in their own right.

groomers are idiots. pedos are sick. there are reasons they are like that. dream is neither. he has so many good supports in his life, hes had rough patches as any young and learning and growing person would and he has SHOWN that hes learning and figuring shit out and hes progressing so well, listening and caring and again, its literally visible . the way he speaks ab things, the actions he takes.

i get how important that whole "listen to the victim" shit is, but god. that doesnt mean entirely fucking discard the evidence of innocence on one side of the accusations. take a step back from twitters poisonous moral fear mongering, take a step back from any emotional investment or parasocial feelings you have for dream. look at his behaviour objectively. hes not a villain, hes not a bad guy, hes not a stupid one, hes not the type of person who would do anything like that.

dont doubt what youve seen from this stupid fucking idiot minecraft youtuber. theres a reason you get so attached to him in the first place . hes genuine, hes easy to love because of it.

on the other side of this. the people accusing him very obviously have a malicious agenda. doing this at the height of his popularity, right after he face revealed and is getting ready to do entirely new content ? the wording they use ? god, its so cancel culture it hurts. fuck off with that shit. its disgusting how many times people try and spin popular ccs into pedos and how many fans fall for it bc theyre so scared its true. shut up your fear and think. i say this with a polite tone, bc i am too annoyed to be gentle.

take care of yourselves. please remember to think outside of twitter culture. form your own opinion, and when you do please try and consider things objectively and as critically as possible. twitter culture is a fucking curse.

#vent #dreamwastaken #dreamblr

129 notes · View notes

lollytea · 2 years

Note

Interesting that no one has any issues with Amity's history of abuse in terms of Lumity, even though Amity has based her ENTIRE PERSONALITY around being Luz girlfriend, and pretty much nothing else.

I've already SAID that I don't believe in the whole "No girlfriends until you've healed from trauma" take so this isn't a critique on lumity. Obviously I adore lumity. But Amity Blight was an emotionally abused, deeply troubled and love starved little girl. At one point, after years of suffering, she eventually learns to stand up to her parents because she's inspired to be a better person by Luz. That being said, though she was implied to improve mentally after that, Amity still did not escape her abusive household. She was still in a terrible situation. Maybe a month later, she paired up with Luz. Where was the time devoted to processing her trauma and healing before she dove into such a taxing emotionally draining responsibility as holding a girl's hand and kissing her on the cheek sometimes? Where was the outrage when it wasn't shown?

I don't mind at all if you believe in the whole idea that Hunter needs time first before he starts thinking about a romantic relationship. Like to each their own or whatever. I'm just saying that it's hypocritical to preach it and not bring that same energy towards lumity.

And also this other idea that if Hunter were to pursue anything romantic with Willow, it would somehow stunt any further development on his part?? What?? he would be rendered incapable of discovering anything new about himself??? You want him to study and learn more about wild magic, you want him to strengthen his bond with Darius, you want him to go to school. Sure. Yeah. I want these things for him too. However because the poor idiot can only focus on one significant relationship at once, let's give his dynamic with Darius all of the focus. Because it clearly has the most healthy and conventional foundation.

(Again, you know I love Dadrius. Everyone knows this. I'm just saying that it's kinda insulting to shelf Hunter's dynamic with Willow in favour of it, if you're gonna preach about a healthy healing process. Of course Darius is gonna be an important part of Hunter's life. But you gotta acknowledge that Hunter's journey to recovery is just destined to be an unconventional one. And it's gonna involve the guy who started off by demeaning him and making him feel like shit. But dating would just be way too much for him to handle, right?)

But anyway, though being Luz's girlfriend became a significant part of Amity's identity, (Listen she's excited. Shes fourteen and it's her first gf. We will be nice to her. ) the relationship did not halt her character development. Admittedly, a lot of it was linked to their romance, though Eclipse Lake had an interesting angle of tackling Amity's trauma by relating it to her relationship with Luz. It was all about how being with Luz has not fixed Amity. However, overall, it's a very positive reinforcement for her.

And what makes it work is that it's never depicted as Luz's responsibility to make Amity better. But rather, it's the reality of having Luz in her life that encourages Amity to do the heavy lifting herself. When Amity realizes that she's not gonna be dumped if she doesn't come back with results, Luz is nowhere around. Luz wasn't even aware Amity was worrying. It was simply Luz being herself that brings Amity to be a better understanding of what love is supposed to be. Amity grows as a person because she wants to be better. And Luz just existing helps her to better understand how.

Beyond that, since she and Luz began dating, Amity has also had time devoted to establishing her interest in competitive brawling, how her dream of being in the EC has been squashed, and repairing her damaged relationships with her father and Willow. (Opinions on the writing of some of these aspects are irrelevant to this subject matter. The point isn't in how they were handled, it's just an acknowledgement that they were added to the show at all.)

Anyway, Amity's relationship with Luz was important to her character. But it did not stunt her ability to develop any further outside of that relationship. Luz did not fix Amity. Amity is working on fixing herself but having Luz around certainly doesn't hurt.

And yknow. Considering the viewpoint of the Hot Take that this discussion is all about. When Amity began dating Luz, she had nobody. She and Willow were still kinda awkward around each other, Alador was still distant. I suppose she had Ed and Em, which was probably the closest thing to a healthy dynamic, if you forget a few months prior when they were absolutely awful to her. Luz was the most positive relationship Amity had at the time. So you don't think there's an argument in here somewhere about dating her being a little unhealthy? Maybe a slippery slope towards the direction of co-dependence?? Maybe??

(Gotta establish AGAIN that I love lumity. You know the point I'm making here.)

Would Hunter have this problem if he were to date Willow? Honestly, it's very unlikely. From where he's at currently, Hunter has a far bigger supportive network than Amity did when she and Luz started dating. He has Luz, Gus, Darius, Willow, Viney, Skara , Flapjack ( Possibly Amity, Camila, Vee, Eber, Eda and Raine too. But we'll only list the ones we're certain of.) Willow does not consume Hunter's entire world. There is no reason for him to become dependent on her alone.

But if I said huntlow has the potential to have a more healthy foundation than lumity because of this point, would you even agree with me? Do I even believe in it? Not really. I dont believe in seriously measuring the level of "toxicity" in either of the ships. They're just kids who are exploring first relationship experiences. Like it's not that deep.

#stupid babbling with no real structure

33 notes · View notes

iricathel · 2 years

Note

Do you ever just have those times when you decide to just watch on the sidelines as people of the fandom rp with each other with their muses because you feel like your muse isn't up to par with theirs, and you see a lot of people loving and showing interest in their muse/s while yours get little to none, and sometimes you just don't want to even bother with the rp side of the fandom anymore even though you genuinely want to be a part of it.

I intuit that you are the same anon of this post.

And if I'm completely honest... No, I never had those feelings because I'm really here to have fun and publish the fantasy world that comes into my head; I don't have time or energy to stop to think about whether people like my world or my characters, because I didn't create that for a pass (and the truth is, my mother's upbringing also influences this).

It is natural that you feel that way since the human being is social and moves in groups (like those experiments that group opinions can change your own just because that is what is written in our instinct). What I mean is that as a tip if that's what you really wanted to find here, you should only focus on yourself and keep writing according to WHAT YOU LIKE, you are here to have fun and not to pass a "test" on whether you are acceptable to interact in the fandom or not.

Everyone has their own ways of representing their characters and their stories, and just because you don't get constant praise doesn't mean your creation is bad. Some people find a Van Gogh's painting much more beautiful than an abstract sculpture of a shit-stained toilet and vice versa, but both works are equally valuable because they represent the creativity and perspective of that person 🤷🏼‍♀️

After all, the least important thing is the opinion of others. Just keep doing your things because if you pressure yourself to fit into some labels, that will drain you mentally, emotionally and energetically.

I don't know if this sounds insensitive on my part, since many times it counts too much for me to empathize with people when I didn't experience something similar; but if you need more support and help, you can talk to a good friend of mine @golden--requiem

I hope you can feel better and have energy again to show off your world openly with no issues, anon 💕

#anon ask #admin #no diahell

6 notes · View notes

soconfusedwithmylife · 6 months

Note

i love subnautica but dude is it buggy as shit lmao although! its one of its charms since its funky most of the time ESPECIALLY when its not happening to you. like i had a peeper stuck in the corner of my lifepod just rotating?? and it would close its eyes when i would come close or a shine light on it and open them back up when i go away or close the light. or like when a poor spadefish or boneshark gets yeeted across the ocean for no reason. is it funny to look back on a warper coming out of the sea to you like some fucked up little mermaid or a chelicerate busting through a ventgarden to attack you? sure. but is it fucked up in the moment? NO. the latter happened to my sister while i was there to emotionally support her on her way to get alan's whateverthefucks lmao. she loves and prefers below zero majorly over the og mostly because it was the first one she played and she grew attached to it over the beta,, she hates where they ended up with the finished product. i played like half an hour of it in the beta decided it wasnt for me. i get SUPER jealous of the seamonkeys and the mineral detector tho. ayoooo rip to you consolers but im different B) pc is superior in the way it literally lets you fuck around with however you want and you bet i Will Play God whenever applicable! what else do you play? also now that we are talking about games i have to tell you. i love you and and your writing. but the feelings ive felt when i read you put him in plat............. my boy should have been at least diamond from the start im still in tears from that chapter i still havent recovered to this day how could you do my boy like this. how could you doubt his epic gamer skills and gaming time management issues like this. please explain yourself before my entire life falls apart at your feet. also me, an adc main, reading "accidentally kill the large-"

my boy was holding it in by shEEr power of love. especially after they nerfed the fuck out of adc to the point mfs will be rolling up the lane with double ap or a fucking yasuo. why is there always a fucking yasuo on enemy bot lane. and why do they all share the same zombie braincell. yone did not die for this bullshit. and to answer your question it depends on where im sending the question from lol. like on mobile there is like a 300? i think? character limit while on mobile and something similar on pc if i go to your blog site and choose ask from your theme. but here is the thing. if i go to your blog from tumblr/user instead of user.tumblr, then click ask, it literally gives me the same box as if im making a post. so no text limit whatsoever and i can freely send pics and stuff, pretty neat B)

nah i think at the end of the day doing whatever makes you the most comfortable and happy regarding the uploads is the most important! i just liked having multiple days of something nice to me ya know? not necessarily the fact that it was split. and i love them both!! the reason i call it texas touya fic is because one, when i started reading tomura was still more like on the sidelines and it kinda stuck two, it rolls of the tongue easier than texas tomura i guess? but i love them both T-T both as texans and in general! oh and dont worry ill probably bore you till you tell me to go away or something and and and! have a nice day!

I almost wish my game was as buggy as yours sounds. It sounds hilarious and game enriching. Mine doesn't like to glitch up but that probably because I played on PS4 and 5. Right after original launch of plain Subnautica, I got to the lava castle but the containment area wouldn't load so I had to start a new save. Hours down the drain.

^legit me after going through the entirety of the game again. Reapers, warpers, ghosts, and sea dragons biting chunks out of my ass all over again. But it was soooooo fun. It's one of my fave games.

OMG the backseat support gamer!!! I had one of those too for my second play through of oh Subnautica! Good on you to emotionally and psychologically hype your sister for the spookiness. I really liked below zero the first time I played it since I was just super hyped to have more Subnautica period but playing them again, you can definitely feel a substantial difference in atmosphere and replayability. Below zero just felt cramped and not as scary while Subnautica was open to terror from any direction. I totally understand your first experience being your favorite though. Whoa! You played it in the beta??? That's awesome! I'm but a lowly console peasant (until I get my PC fixed 😈) so I had to wait for console release.

OMFG DUDE. I was literally going to make him diamond II or even master BUT I didn't want a mega mind gamer in the comments to be like "erm, tomura wouldn't be diamond. It's hard to get to diamond!!11!" So I lowered his stats and you know what's CRAZY?! Me and a friend were talking about this exact issue and she brought up how he should have been at least diamond and I said the exact same story lmao. So I will go back and edit him into diamond 💀 he deserves it. The CS steal is so real 😔 so uncalled for. So unsophisticated. Okay but playing yasuo is fun, going against a yasuo is cancer. The wind shield is op. (When I'm playing against a yasuo) but sucks balls and blocks nada when I play him. (It's a zombie braincell hivemind that we all take turns with)

You're a Tumblr pro dude. 💀 I hadn't used it since 2015 so I'm still getting the hang of it (it doesn't tell me when I get notifs btw so I'm sorry for leaving you hanging for TWO WEEKS)

It legit means so much to me that you find so much joy in my writing and have stuck with it even with the long periods between updates. I appreciate you and the time you put into talking to me. It means a lot to me and you're the coolest anon I know.

Oh! And other games I play are pretty much anything 💀 I try to not get into competitive games like overwatch, Apex, or CSGO because I get EXTREMELY competitive and start screeching like a wounded animal. I used to play league religiously until my PC broke and my laptops can't run it (it can but it's like I'm either crashing or playing on PowerPoint) so I'm saving to get a new processor so I can play again! I mained ADC (jinx and Ashe, sometimes Tristana) or Annie on mid (LOL) BUT other than those, I prettyuch like anything. My fave games are Horizon Zero Dawn, Fable 2, Binding of Isaac, Assassin's Creed 2, and Minecraft! I play lots of survival games like ark, the forest, 7 days to die, and so on. I like simulation games Sims (obviously), house flipper, power wash simulator or even farming simulator 💀. You name a game, I've either played it or know about it.

They are my loves. They are my special boys and I care deeply for their fictional existence. As Texans, futuristic jerkwads, and in general.

No way will you ever bore me. If anything, I'll bore you

ANYWAY I will literally talk forever if given a chance 😬 thank you for talking to me! I'm always so excited to hear from you! I consider you a good friend at this point. How long has it been? Like 3 months? Maybe more???

#anon

0 notes

fluffytriceratops · 2 years

Text

Important Update! Please Read!!

I’m yeeting myself into the abyss. And won’t be on here much because of it.

In all seriousness, this is a important update on why I’m not on here as much and when I will return.

For those of you who don’t know, I work seasonally at a summer camp. I mainly work in the kitchen as a assistant to the head chef, but I also do a lot of cleaning. I mainly clean up after guests when they’ve stayed at one of the camp’s cabins/motels. Now I don’t really like this job, in fact, I kinda hate it. But as a broke art student, whose family has been struggling a ton financially this past year, I don’t have many options. And it does pay decently well. Normally the employees come at the end of June - beginning of July, but I’ve offered to come in a month early to help set up the camp. This is a shit ton of work, and I absolutely hate it. I had to do it last year, and I wanted to throw myself off a cliff. It’s extremely stressful and draining. My anxiety spikes up a ton. I’m constantly suffering both physically (I suffer greatly from pains, mainly in my back, hands, head, and wrists), mentally, and emotionally. My hands shake a lot, and it just gets to bad when I’m working and pushing myself so much. So to say I’m miserable during this time of the year is a bit of an understatement haha. This will be my second year working here but my family and I have been going there for many generations.

Working at this camp is a literal nightmare for me. I never really liked going there for long periods of time when I wasn’t working, and now that I am it drains the fun out of the place completely. I’ve had nightmares about having to go back all year. I wish I was exaggerating, but I promise I’m not lol.

Because I’ll be working almost everyday for the next three months (I also work the beginning of September but it’s not the full month so I don’t really count it), I won’t have much time for myself let alone tumblr and any other sites I’m apart of. Unfortunately this means that I won’t be able to write, draw, or roleplay much at all. And honestly, anytime that I spend not working I’ll probably be sleeping because that’s how exhausted I am. You have no idea how many times I just took a nap on someone’s couch last year during breaks. I’ve never napped so much in my life haha.

Long story short, any and all works of mine will be delayed and coming out very slowly for the next while. This includes roleplay responses. I’m very sorry to those of you who are/will be waiting on me to reply, not only to rps but to messages/reblogs and just about anything and everything really. Like I said, my posting schedule will be random and all over the place. I’ll write/draw/respond/rp when I have time and am in the mood. (Which is basically what I do now, it’s just I have far less time on my hands hehe)

This also means that I might come on occasionally to spam a few people now and again, because I’ll be missing a bunch of stuff lmao.

With all of that said; PLEASE CONTINUE TO TAG ME IN ALL OF YOUR STUFF SO THAT I CAN SEE IT WHEN I CAN! I’ll probably miss a couple posts here and there, and I apologize in advance if that’s the case, but I’ll try my hardest to respond/look at everything! Also- don’t be afraid to ask me if I’d like to be tagged in certain things (or to just tag me in general, I love hearing from you guys!) , it might take me a moment to get back to you, but honestly there are so many cool people on here, I feel so bad that I’m going to miss out on so much! And don’t be afraid to message me either! Again, it might take me a while to reply to you, but I’ll get around to it eventually! ^^

ALSO- to all of my mutuals/tumblr buddies— if you’re interested, I’d love just to chat with you guys! Whether that be on my dm’s here, or on Instagram or discord, whatever really. I’ve met so many amazing people and I’d love to keep in contact other than our posts! So, if you’re interested, feel free to message me on here or comment or reblog, whatever you feel most comfortable doing, and let me know! I can send you my insta or discord or whatever and we can keep in touch much easier! Don’t be afraid to ask to chat! I’d love to have more online friends! <3

I’ll probably post little life updates and stuff when I can, so look out for those if that’s something you’d be interested in seeing!

And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my stuff, I post a lot of multifandom things, so if you see something you like, lemme know and I’ll tag you so you don’t miss out! I’ll probably be posting some older stuff/things I just haven’t uploaded to tumblr yet, so there’s that hehe.

Again- I’m really sorry that I won’t be very active on here. I’ll try to come on as much as I can! In the meantime, message me, tag me, and take good care of yourselves! Drink lots of water, take power naps when needed, get some sunshine and fresh air every once and a while, and make sure you remember to eat! Sometimes I forget, so it’s nice to have a lil reminder! ^v^

I love you all so so much, and I can’t wait till the summer is over lmfao.

IM SENDING ALL OF THE VIRTUAL HUGS TO YOU!!! ^3^

— LF / Fluffy / Fluffie. <3

Xox

Ps. Wish me luck. TvT

#update #important #i hate my life #working sucks #adulting sucks #kill me now #ughhh

44 notes · View notes

astrologybyana · 3 years

Text

lot of spirit / part of spirit

hii babies, i'm back! in this post, our focus is on our lot of spirit ✨

lot of spirit tells us about where we can experience abundance in life

it is also believed by some astrologers that this placement in our chart shows how our spirit guides are like

so i'm just gonna connect those two and say it's your higher self whispering in your ear how your soul can find satisfaction hahah

its formula is ascendant + moon - sun

however, to find where your lot of spirit is located, you can simply go to astro.com, choose “free horoscopes” and then “extended chart selection”

from house systems, choose “whole signs” and write "37452" to the additional objects part, and there it is!

you can also access to my masterpost, here 🎈

it’s a long post so i cut it from here 🧚🏻‍♀️

lot of spirit in aries / 1st house

very passive earlier in life, you probably didn't like arguments and confrontation

and gave in easily bc you didn't wanna be alone

which means u might have been taken for granted a lot

you have learnt / are learning / should learn (lol sorry...) how to overcome this fear of yours tho

let people come to you and when the time comes, let them go, to let abundance in your life

once you get the hang of it, your need for indepence will take over and you'll see success comes easily with your leadership abilities 🌸

lot of spirit in taurus / 2nd house

you might not have felt good enough while growing up

in relationships, you might be the one who is more giving

pulling back from intense people might be good for you because you are prone to sacrificing yourself

and what you need is your own sense of "self", what you need is "you" separately

you are probably drawn to people who are wealthy and materalistic

others might challenge your self development but this is the area you need to work on anyways ✨

lot of spirit in gemini / 3rd house

you might have felt like you haven't been understood / listened enough while growing up, you might have had communication issues

you can read between the lines

you observe how people communicate, you can understand body language and gests and mimics easily

so it's hard to manipulate you, though, it might be easy for you to manipulate others

you probably make scenarios in your head to see how things can go

you might need to work on mind flexibility 🕊

lot of spirit in cancer / 4th house

family approval is important to you, uou feel like you need to belong somewhere, anywhere

because you might not have felt the emotional connection you wanted to feel as a child

the lack of emotional connection might have been with one parent or both; they might have been aloof or distant, physically or emotionally

in relationships, you may feel responsible like you need to carry the traditional roles of a gender

you like knowing what's going to happen, it might give you a feeling of security

having a job that where you take care of others will probably be good for you 🦄

lot of spirit in leo / 5th house

you might feel like you haven't been a child really, or you haven't had fun a lot

you might have grown up in an area with people that are very different than you

you wanted to be popular, but those differences did not really let you

and feeling neglected by your peers probably blocked your creativity and heart chakra

you might have developed a wall around you, which you think protects your self esteem but the only thing it does is not let love in

you should learn how to be comfortable letting that wall down and reach out to others 💖

lot of spirit in virgo / 6th house

you might have grown up having to out a standart for certain stuff

you might have felt like you had to do what you were told, and you put high standarts to do those things, in order to get your parents' attention

however, this probably led you to put too much effort into everything you did

which might have made you feel like you were responsible for anything and everything

you might have a tendency to take things too personally

high standarts are good, don't get me wrong, but it might feel good to not critisize yourself and others too much and let things loose a little 🎈

lot of spirit in libra / 7th house

you love harmony and getting along and all that, but when you see unjustice, whoops 👀

you can't stand that shit. but good for you!

when you defend someone who feels support, you feel good, it's like everything is as it's supposed to be

but while fighting for others, you might tend to ignore your own problems

and no, sweetie, that's not good. you need harmony here, too

pls learn how to set boundries and take as much as you give 🌠

lot of spirit in scorpio / 8th house

you probably have developed a strong sense of self which lets you know when to help people, and when to step back

you might feel like you are unintentionally attracted stuff that are about other people's values

fear of failure, ✨a lot✨ which makes you driven to use your full potential in like anything

people might try to use their power on you, which triggers your sense of defence

you need to trust, but it's hard for you, you need to feel like you are loved as who you are

doing your own thing and achieving your personal success will open doors for you 💸

lot of spirit in sagittarius / 9th house

you might not have felt confident enough while growing up

you might have been in situations where you felt like you had to speak up, but you just couldn't because of your lack of confidence

you have a philosophical approache to life and you love expanding your mentality

you're intuitive, you just know when someone is genuine or not

you don't like small talk, you want to dig deeper and deeper

following your intuition and avoiding gossip etc. is the best thing to do here 🎀

lot of spirit in capricorn / 10th house

you had to learn how to take responsibility at a younger age

you were probably someone to step back and observe, you might have felt suppressed and feared of stepping outta line

because you knew there were consequences to face after doing something

as you grow up, life has probably challenged you by leaving you in situations where you have to deal with self esteem, and eventually developing it

you might also like to challenge yourself and see how much more you can accomplish

you'll find a feeling of satisfaction by facing your fears, gaining control over who you are, making your goals clear and achieving them 👑

lot of spirit in aquarius / 11th house

you might have no or little control over your identity while growing up, and it might have affected your social life

you might have had mood swings every now and then, which probably made you feel like your life was full of ups and downs, like a rollercoaster

although you're a very friendly person, but you might have felt like you never fit in, so you learnt to rely on yourself only

you are still discovering yourself, and that's beautiful

expressing your unique ideas will make you meet people like you

however, you should overcome your impulsivity in order not to experience outbursts 🎈

lot of spirit in pisces / 12th house

you probably think you are here to help people

what makes you think this way is that there have been so many people who needed you

you try to see the best in people, and while that's good, sometimes your sight might get too cloudy, which could lead to not seeing red flags

whenever you feel like your energy is draining, you need to get away

you tend to bottle up your own problems, and open up when you feel like you can trust someone 100%

you may find it difficult to say no, but that's exactly what you should learn 💖

495 notes · View notes

shig-a-shig-ah · 3 years

Note

omg hello!! i saw ur requests open & i was so excited i love ur work so much!! 🥺😭 i was just wondering if u can write a soft dabi comfort fic/drabble where the reader is struggling with piles of work & being emotionally drained?? if u want to 👉👈 it would mean lots thank u sm!!

Yessss I love some soft Dabi! This got kinda long because I can relate hard to piles of work & being emotionally drained (thanks grad school!), and reader is lowkey a grad student here for that same reason. And, uh…the first part of this might be loosely autobiographical, lmao.

» pairing: dabi + gn!reader

» wc: 1k

It’s not your proudest moment, crying on the kitchen floor because you dropped the food you’d just microwaved, but here you are. And these aren’t a delicate sort of tears either—no, it’s the entirely undignified, end-of-your-rope type of crying, the kind that has you hiccupping while snot runs down your face, the sobs intensifying every time you catch a glimpse of your ruined meal still splattered on the floor.

The indignity only worsens when you hear the sound of a key in the door, followed by heavy boots clunking across your apartment, and then a low drawl.

“What’s going on in here?”

When you finally glance up from the floor, you see Dabi crouching in front of you, cerulean eyes flicking between the mess on the floor and your tear-stained face, his lips turned down into a frown.

You try quickly to brush away some some of those tears, rubbing at your eyes and wiping your nose on your sleeve, your face heating up at what a mess you must look. But Dabi doesn’t tease, only lifts one warm hand to stroke at your cheek, keeping his voice low and soft as he speaks.

“Why are you crying on the floor, baby?”

“I’m…I’m just tired,” you manage to choke out. It’s an understatement, honestly; you feel exhausted to the bone, entirely drained mentally and emotionally, but you don’t even have the energy to explain in any more detail. “And then—” You gesture to what was supposed to be your dinner.

Dabi nods slowly. He doesn’t really need you to explain, already knows how hard you’ve been working. Twelve hour days writing or studying, and still always feeling as though you’re barley keeping your head above water. He doesn’t even pretend to understand half of what you’re doing—that world is far too removed from his own for him to grasp completely—but he knows it’s important to you, and that you constantly feel like you have to prove yourself. Those things, at least, he can relate to.

He knows the toll it takes, constantly feeling like you’re not good enough.

“All right,” he says, and then he’s scooping you up in his arms, letting your tear-streaked face nuzzle against his chest. “C’mon.”

You don’t pay any attention to where he’s carrying you, only looking up once he’s setting you on the edge of the bathroom sink, unraveling your arms from around his neck and leaving you sitting there, blinking stupidly, as he turns on the shower. He tests the water, adjusting the knobs a couple times until he’s satisfied, and then he’s hooking his knuckles under your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

“Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll go get you something to eat, okay?” he says. “Something better than that microwave shit.”

You shake your head, still sniffling slightly. “I still have a lot of work I need to—”

“Uh-uh. What you need is a break.” He dips his head to trace his lips lightly over your jaw. “Now I’ll get in there with you if I have to,” he murmurs, “but it’s probably better if I work on getting you fed. Have you even eaten today?”

“I had breakfast,” you mutter, and Dabi rolls his eyes.

“That must’ve ten hours ago, at least. Take a break—you won’t be able to do anything if you don’t take care of yourself.” His gaze is soft but his tone is stern, and you nod. “Good.”

He places a chaste kiss against your lips, lingering just long enough to make sure you actually get in the shower, and then he’s slipping out of the bathroom, the sound of the front door shutting audible not long after.

You don’t even hear him come back in, zoning out after only a few minutes. Dabi was right to suggest a shower, apparently—you feel much better after washing your face and letting the hot water loosen your muscles, cramped from sitting hunched over your desk all day. When you finally emerge, he’s is unpacking takeout containers from a plastic bag, and the mess you’d left in the kitchen floor is gone.

He points wordlessly to the couch, and you sit, accepting the takeout container he hands you gratefully. You smile when you open it; it’s your favorite dish, from your favorite takeout place down the street, not something you’d expected him to remember, but apparently you didn’t give him enough credit.

“Thanks,” you mumble, but he just waves at you to start eating.

It’s been days since you’ve seen each other, and you feel bad simply devouring your food in silence, but you hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the food was right in front of you, and it’s all you can focus on. Dabi doesn’t seem to mind though, he’s watching you closely, a satisfied half-smile on his face.

“You look like you could use some sleep,” he says once you’ve finished, but you shake your head.

“I wanna spend some time with you while you’re here, at least,” you pout. As exhausted as you are, you hate the idea of going straight to bed. The two of you get so little time together as it is.

Dabi thinks about it for a moment. You really do look like you need to sleep, but the slight pout on your face is too cute to refuse, and he figures it can’t hurt if the two of you just relax together for a bit. He’ll just make sure you sleep in tomorrow, throw the alarm out the window if he has to. Your work might be important, but it’s not worth killing yourself over.

“Fine,” he says, “scoot over.” Then he’s situating himself next to you on the couch, tugging you into his arms and letting your head fall to rest against his chest. “Movie?” he asks, and you nod.

You let him choose the movie, content to relax against him, his chin resting on your head and his fingers toying with your own. He places a kiss against your temple as the film starts to play. “You feeling a little better now, baby?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, snuggling a little more into his warmth. “I am.”

#have i cried over dropping my dinner?#the answer is not no #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi drabble #dabi imagine #mha dabi #soft dabi #domestic fluff #Anonymous

233 notes · View notes

korra-the-red-lion · 3 years

Text

Supergirl 6x12: Blind Spots.

Korra here! I actually watched an episode on time for once, yay! Also, holy effing smokes. This episode. My thoughts down below, and as always, SPOILERS AHEAD.

The opening scene with Nyxly and the blue alien guy tells us right away that imp magic is going to be a major issue right away this episode, which I enjoy.

Kelly and Orlando racing to help all the people who got trapped in the Ormfell building collapse and him telling Kelly that it will take too long to wait for 911 was just ugh. My heart.

The hospitals being overwhelmed, the need for extra oxygen and respirators, and the lack of empathy for the underprivileged... okay. If this isn’t a reference to both the Covid-19 pandemic and nursing crisis, I don’t know what else it could be. This one hurt.

Okay, so the Karen council woman, whose name is Jean Rankin, is awful. Pardon my language because I usually try to stay pg-13, but holy fuck I hate her. Unsurprisingly, she immediately abuses her new power. What a bitch.

Kelly calling for help but no one listening is absolutely heartbreaking. I wish Alex had at least asked her what was going on, but she didn’t and that is what makes it worse. I think in this case, it was because Alex has full faith that Kelly can take care of herself, but the lack of understanding what Kelly needs vs. what she can do is something Alex is missing.

This is small and random, but I’m glad that the show hasn’t forgotten James. So many shows have people leave the show and then pretend they never existed. SG has rarely done that and I’m thankful.

Diggle, my man! I think that this was his best appearance by far. I really liked him in the Batwoman one, because he encouraged Luke to keep moving forward, which was super touching. But him and Kelly connecting and trying to figure this out together was very well done.

Lena gets a couple of scenes this episode. The first one is driving me crazy. She has a text from Kelly, and a new notification. The point was to drive home that no one was listening to Kelly, which this did effectively. BUT, I also can’t get over the fact that Lena IGNORED Kelly’s message because she saw a new notification about Supergirl and had to race home immediately. I’m trying to keep my hopes low, but if this doesn’t scream Supercorp Endgame, what does?

Okay, but like, effing Andrea? Kelly, who is your friend and previous employee is asking you to cover a building collapse that has a bunch of people injured and dying and you’re covering TRAFFIC? WHAT THE FUCK? Girl, this is why your network is failing because of stupid ass decisions like this. Get it together.

Kelly finally losing her shit at the Super Friends was well deserved. Everyone was ignoring her this episode, and they were ignoring the serious issue on hand. Of course stopping Nxyly is important, but so is this. Kara and Alex both feel guilty immediately and Nia stops them from going to talk to Kelly so she can blow off some steam.

Kara and Kelly’s conversation was really good. I’m glad that it wasn’t Kara being completely ignorant like they do often, but instead not having her understand it from a certain perspective. I think this was one of the best moments of the episode.

This talk made me cry. Brainy is showing Kelly her new suit, and she asks him “Does it get better?” Jesse’s face is just agony when he tells her that there was still a lot of problems. I cried during this scene. It’s so frustrating. We have come a long way, but there’s many more steps to take.

THE NEW SUIT IS AMAZING. KELLY LOOKS SO GOOD. AHHHH.

Orlando is speaking truth. Why should he trust the new Guardian just because? It hurts but Kelly understands why she’s gotta prove herself.

Kara fights that idiot Rankin, but she’s mostly holding her attention so Kelly and drain her energy and return it to the people. This scene was really cool, ngl.

Okay, scene number 2 that made me cry. Kelly (magically I have to say) comes down from the building to speak with the people, mostly Orlando. She’s encouraging him to take a seat on the council. which is really sweet. But the scene when the one little girl says “I’M GUARDIAN” while the other holds the trash lid... I just....it speaks volumes. Remember when Supergirl first came out and little girls everywhere were so excited to see themselves on screen? Now little black girls can have their representation too. I’m actually tearing up writing this.

Lena gets home and you know it’s magic because snail mail beat her CatCo jet. Now she has a spell book!

Bye Diggle! It was fun having you around. The last thing he says to Kelly about Jefferson is so wonderful. Remember that now post-Crisis, Black Lighting is the OG black superhero that people looked up to. I just really loved this full circle moment.

Now the last scene. UGH. Kelly putting her hair up in a wrap. Her wearing the “Say Her Name” shirt. The music choice. Kelly telling Alex what she needs and Alex listening. Kelly crying in her arms. I bawled. This scene. I loved it. It was the best way to end an exhausting episode for Kelly.

Overall, not only the best episode of the season, but one of the best episodes of the entire show. I can’t say enough about it. Even if you stopped watching SG, I think everyone should watch this episode at least. Really powerful stuff.

Also, a promo! Yay! Looks like we’re getting a fun chaotic episode, which I think after an emotionally taxing episode like this, it’s needed. Until then, everyone!

29 notes · View notes

t-lostinworlds · 4 years

Text

Hold On (Tom Holland)

a/n: hello, surprise? but yes, so, i was kind of in a funk for a bit and when that happens, i write angst. then i heard the song (i was listening to my sad playlist as u do aha) and here we are. i wrote this fairly quick so bear with it as it may seemed rushed (it is) so it may be bad heh. also, i suggest listening to the song while reading for full effect.

pairing: tom holland x female reader summary: You locked yourself in the bathroom when things got overwhelming. Tom felt worried when it went quiet inside for too long, heart stopping by what he saw when he broke through the door. based on song: Hold On - Chord Overstreet warnings: drug overdose (vaguely written & only on tom's pov), angst, brief panic attack, open(?) but happy ending. word count: 3.2k+

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

**US/UK HELPLINES & FREE 24/7 SUICIDE HOTLINES IN DIFFERENT COUNTRIES**

~~~

"I can't do better in helping if you don't tell me what's wrong Y/N," Tom said softly, concerned eyes staring right into your troubled ones.

He had his arms open wide as he slowly inched towards your trembling form, making sure to not get too close, too fast. He doesn't want to overwhelm you by being all over your personal space, he doesn't want to stress you out even more by crowding you. Tom knew he needed to be gentle, patient, giving you enough space to breath but also showing that you can jump into his arms whenever you need to, whenever you're ready to.

"That's the thing Tom, I don't know what's wrong," you started with a shaky intake of breath. "I just feel this pit in my stomach and sometimes it gets so overwhelming in my head about everything, about what I'm even doing with my life, if I'm doing enough, if I am enough. I'm overthinking about everything and I just feel so lost and angry for not knowing what's wrong with me. And I—I am so tired," you admitted, tears slipping down your cheeks as you ran your palm over your face in frustration.

To see your agitated state, to hear the hurt and frustration in your voice, added with your heavy words, it just broke Tom's heart to pieces. You didn't need to elaborate what you meant by 'being tired' because he understood, both physically, emotionally, but especially mentally. And Tom's frown could only deepen as you continued.

"And you can't do better Tom, you don't need to. You've already done so much for me. You've put up with my shit for so long. I've already put you through so much," you trailed off at the end of your sentence, bottom lip quivering as you stared at him with utter guilt.

The look of distress on his features was hurting you so much. You just want to see him happy, that's what he truly deserves. But now it seems like you're not giving him that anymore. Not giving him enough happiness, just nights of him being worried about you, stressed because of you.

"I feel like lately, all I've done is be a burden to my family, to everyone in my life, but even more to you."

Tom shook his head frantically as he took a few steps forward. "No, don't say that love," he whispered.

Once he reached a safe distance, he gently took your hand in his, touch soft, comforting. You let him hold you, eyes trained on the way your fingers intertwined but never looking up. You couldn't bear to hold his gaze, especially with the obvious sadness that swam in them.

"Darling, look at me," Tom coaxed, giving your hands a tender squeeze. With a deep intake of breath, you willed yourself to meet his eyes again. Those brown orbs bring you so much happiness, and to see them filled with everything but, to know that you're the sole reason why they're not coated with that lovely glow, it only makes you feel guiltier.

"You know that's not true Y/N," he said firmly, but you only shook your head at him with a soft whimper, his voice unable to break through the loud screams that filled your mind.

"Angel, you are not a burden to me. I'll always be here for you no matter what, remember? Didn't I promise you that, love?" Tom tried again, both hands going to cup your face as he gently wiped your tears away with his thumb. "When I said I wanted to be here for you, with all the joy and the chaos, all the demons we're made of, I meant that with every beat of my heart Y/N."

"But you deserve so much better Tom," you croaked, nimble fingers wrapping around his wrists, leaning into his warm touch with bottom lip jutted out as fresh tears dampened your cheeks once more.

"No, I don't," Tom objected. "You're all I want, all I ever need, please believe that, believe me Y/N," he whispered, forehead pressed up against yours as his eyes held nothing but truth.

Still, it wasn't enough to help subside the roaring demons in your mind. Not because Tom didn't hold any importance or his words any power, no, he's everything to you. But tonight they just happen to be a lot stronger, the loud and guttural voices. They were blocking anything that's trying to get through to you, blocking the only thing that always seemed to easily get through to you which was Tom.

"I just—I need to think. I-I need to be alone," you muttered under your breath. Although reluctant, Tom nodded, figured that if that was what you wanted, then he will give it to you.

"Okay," he sighed, placing a tender kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his lips on your skin making you close your eyes with a shaky breath. It was a sweet, rather mundane kiss, but it was one that lasted a few seconds longer than normal before he lets you go. Tom's grip around you slowly loosened, your heart growing heavier as you feel his touch gradually disappear.

You quickly turned on your heel with your head down, arms wrapped around your body to stop you from crumbling to the floor. Tom hesitantly stood still in his place, a certain feeling in his gut growing as he watched you walk towards the bathroom. As you were about to shut the door, his voice stopped you.

"Y/N?" he called out.

You turned around with a hum, meeting those brown orbs you've grown to adore with every inch of you. So many emotions were swimming in them, but only one struck you the most, even more so when he opened those lips to let it out into the air, loud, clear and sincere.

"I love you."

You gave him a small smile, trying your best to suppress your sobs as more tears ran down your cheek. And softly, you said,

"I love you too Tom, so much."

There was something about the way your voice trembled that made Tom feel even more uneasy, but he decided to let it go, thought that it was just him stressing over nothing at all.

The bathroom door slamming shut was what he heard next, a frustrated hand running through his hair as he stared at the white painted wood for a whole minute. With a sharp exhale of breath, Tom looked at it for a few seconds more.

Once he heard the running water on the sink, he made his way out of your shared bedroom, body slumped with deep frown still intact. His demeanor was quick to catch the attention of his brother who was sitting on the living room couch, the only other person in the house as of the moment.

"Is she okay?"

Tom could only flash Harry a sad, forced smile, not speaking any words as he went straight to the kitchen to get you some water and a bit of food. You haven't eaten anything yet and it was worrying him even more.

It wasn't long until Tom was back in the bedroom, setting the glass of water and the plate of your favorite sandwich on the nightstand.

The silence that filled the room was uncanny, nervousness coating the lad slowly as he stood completely still. Tom's eyes landed on the closed door of the bathroom, a lump forming in his throat as he found the negative thoughts that grew in his mind harder to ignore.

He took long strides towards the door, pressing an ear on the surface as he tried to listen to something, hoping to hear anything. Tom felt his heart quicken its pace as the silence screamed in his ear, brain quick to jump into horrible, dreadful conclusions.

"Darling? Are you okay in there?" he called, fingers twitching as his eyes landed on the metal knob.

No response...

"Darling?" Tom tried again, voice even louder, fear growing stronger as he grabbed the doorknob, chills running down his spine once the cold surface touched his skin.

Silence...

"Y/N, if you're not going to answer I'm kicking this fucking door down," Tom growled frantically, grip on the doorknob tightening as he tried to shake it open.

Nothing...

With an anxious breath, Tom walked away until he reached a safe distance, lifting a leg up and with all his might, kicked the door just by the keyhole, the wood snapping in its place as it swung open.

Tom ran inside but immediately froze, blood drained out of his whole body at the sight of you, heart coming to a halt for a full second as he shook his head in utter fear.

"No, no, no," he rushed, scrambling towards your limp, unconscious form on the white tiled floor, the bottle of painkillers right beside you, so close to empty. Tom was breathing rapidly as he pulled you onto his lap, vision turning blurry as he cleared the hair away from your face.

"Y/N! Wake up love, p-please wake up," Tom stammered, fingers shaking as he brought it up to your neck to the side of your windpipe, urgently feeling for your heartbeat. Cold sweats coated his entire body once he felt a faint one. It was there, but barely.

"No, don't—p-please don't leave me!" he cried out, head pounding as he shifted in his place, adrenaline at an all-time high as he hoisted you up in his arms. "Harry! Harry please!" Tom screamed after his brother as he rushed outside the bathroom and into the hallway, the lad in question rushing towards his brother's voice with sheer worry on his freckled face.

"What—"

"Start the car! Her breathing is getting slower," Tom choked on his words. The twin didn't waste any time as he bolted towards the kitchen island to grab the keys and went straight to the front door, held it open until Tom was out with you, alarmingly unmoving in his hold.

Once the car door was slammed shut with you and Tom in the backseat, Harry veered right out of the driveway and drove fast like your life depended on it, because it did.

Tom kept you close to his heaving chest, mumbling sweet but desperate nothings against your hair, silently praying as he tried his best to contain his shock.

The slower your heart beats, the faster Tom's heart raced, your body cold to the touch, his head spinning at the dreadful feeling. Tom felt so helpless just staring at your expressionless features, his clammy palms resting on your cheek as he kept talking to you.

"Hold on, I still want you angel, please hold on," he whispered over and over, hoping that you were able to hear him, hoping that the sound of his voice will stop you from fading into the light.

He was glad that the drive to the hospital was only five minutes away, but with you lying still, turning colder by the second in his arms, time seemed to go slower, agonizingly slower. There was no doubt that it was the longest, most painful five minutes Tom has ever endured in his life.

***

The bright hospital lights were blinding the moment Tom rushed inside with you in his arms, his voice hoarse as he screamed for help until the nurses came to your aid. They took you away on the table, your whole body lying motionless as they checked for your pulse. He didn't want to let you go, didn't want to let you out of his sight in fear that it would be the last time he'll see you with a bit of life left. But despite his protests, he was met by double doors slamming closed on his face.

Both of Tom's hands tugged at his hair in pure agitation, bottom lip caught between his teeth to try and suppress his sobs. He was pacing anxiously as his eyes kept steady on the door of the room where you disappeared into, lungs struggling to provide oxygen, unable to keep up with his raging heart.

He felt a hand grabbed at his shoulder, unable to see the person as they immediately pulled him in for a tight hug. But he didn't need to, he knew who it was, he knew what his brother's embrace felt like. Tom's whole body shook in Harry's hold as loud and broken sobs came out of him, arms wrapping around his brother for mere support, knowing that his legs are about to give out any second.

"I d-don't want to lose her, I can't lose her H-Harry, I—" Tom felt his throat start to close up, his grip around his younger brother turning vice-like as he gasped for air.

"Hey, hey Tom, breathe," Harry rushed, grabbing Tom's shoulders, pulling him away and holding him in arm's length. "You're alright, just breathe."

Tom shut his eyes tight and tried to regain his breathing, calming himself as best as he could. A whimper came out of him as he shook his head slowly, opening his eyes to meet Harry's with nothing but utmost fear and pain swimming in them.

"I c-can't imagine a world without her, I can't—"

"Then don't. You're not losing her Tom. She's going to be fine. She's a very strong girl. You, out of all people, know that," Harry reassured, giving his shoulder a squeeze for good measure.

"Fuck, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have left her alone. I knew something wasn't right before she even—I should've tried harder," Tom sobbed as he ran his shaking fingers through his hair, bottom lip quivering as he casted his eyes on the floor in shame.

"Tom you did the best that you could. No one could've seen this coming. Y/N wouldn't want you blaming yourself. You know it hurts her when you blame yourself," Harry said softly, rubbing his back comforting as he shot him a knowing look.

Tom rubbed the nape of his neck as he nodded with deep, strangled breaths. He pressed his lips into a tight line as he didn't say another word because Harry was right. You always get even more upset when you see him blame himself for something out of his control.

"You just sit here and wait alright? I'm going to get you some water."

He only shot Harry a small but thankful smile, the younger lad giving him one last hug before he disappeared down the opposite side of the hallway.

Tom cleared his mind and thought of nothing but you being safe. You are going to be safe, alive and well, because he wouldn't know what to do with himself if you weren't.

***

It was an hour and half later until the doctor came out. Tom scrambled on his feet as she asked about who was there for you. His nails were digging into his palms, creating crescent shapes on the skin as he held his breath, dreadfully waiting for her to speak.

"We've managed to pump all the drugs out of her system. She's stable now but still unconscious," the doctor said. Tom lets out a big puff of breath, his whole body relaxing as he felt the weight of the universe lift off his shoulders. Tom grabbed onto Harry for support once he almost lost his balance, just feeling relieved to hear that you were fine, still breathing.

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked when Tom can't seem to form any words, the older brother squeezing his shoulder as a way to silently say thank you.

The doctor nodded with a small smile. "We still need to keep a close eye on her until she makes a full recovery. There are still a few dangers that can occur given that she's consumed quite a handful."

Tom stood straighter as he cleared his throat, "Can I see her?"

"Right this way."

***

The sound of the soft beeps of the heart rate monitor oddly felt comforting to Tom as he entered the room. It was a mixture of relief but also hurt the moment his eyes landed on your sleeping form, hooked up to all these wires and tubes as you lay peacefully on the white bed.

He would've just stood still on his place, just staring with a deep from if Harry hadn't given him an encouraging tap on back. Tom flashed him a small smile before Harry closed the door, giving Tom some time alone with you for as long as he needed.

Slowly, he made his way over to your side, pulling up a chair beside the bed and letting out a shaky breath once he sat down. It was when he reached over to hold your hand did Tom start to bawl his eyes out, body shaking with full on sobs as he lifted your nimble fingers and pressed it on his damp, flushed cheek.

"You're okay. You're going to be okay love," he whimpered, not sure if he was saying those words to reassure you or himself. He turned his head to place a warm, tender kiss on your palm before he cupped your hand with both of his, his thumb sweetly stroking the back of it.

"It may sound selfish but you know I can't just let you go. I'm not that strong. Not as strong as you," Tom paused, giving your hand a squeeze, just waiting patiently for you to return it. "So, come on, darling, come back to me," Tom begged, a choked sob following after as his teardrops soaked the white sheets.

"I still need you. I will always need you," he continued, voice merely above a whisper as he tried his best to keep his breathing steady. "You're going to wake up and tell me to take you home, yeah?"

"We're going home," Tom breathed out with a small nod. "You're going to come back to me, and we're going home." Tom's voice broke at the end of his sentence, his head dropping low as he screwed his eyes shut, an overwhelming feeling rising in him that he couldn't stop the tears from falling continuously.

Tom just wants you to be back in his arms, wants you safe and warm in the comfort of your shared bed. He just wants to hear your hearty laugh echo in the kitchen as you make breakfast together. He wants to hear your scolding whenever he leaves dirty clothes on the floor, or the little arguments on whose turn it was to load the dishwasher.

Tom just wants to take you home.

Then once you do, once you come back home, he will take your hand and make things right, help make things better. And with all that he is, all that he has, with every beat of his heart, Tom will swear to love you all his life.

"Come home to me Y/N."

It was then Tom felt it, the light squeeze around his hand, his head shooting up as he looked at you expectantly. It was completely unmatched, the utter joy and relief that coated every inch of his bones. The sound was music to his ears, happiness filling him up to the brim once he heard your sweet, lovely voice.

"Tom?"

~~~

“Place your hand over your heart, can you feel it? That is called purpose. You’re alive for a reason so don’t ever give up.” – Unknown

-:-:-:-:-

like, reblog & leave a comment if you liked it and tell me your thoughts <3

Overall/Everything Taglist: @theunwantedomega @vinylmendes @fallinfortom @disneysamara @avengersficwriter @musicalkeys

Tom H. Taglist: @hollandfanficlove @averyfosterthoughts @2018shawn @darlingspidey @namoreno @spacebitch2 @hollanddolanfangirl @keepingupwiththehollands @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @unbelievableholland @kittenruby @sunkisseddreamer @worldoftom @quaksonhehe @big-galaxy-chaos @clara-licht @dummiesshort @imanativeofswlondondahling @harrysthicccthighs @perspectiveparker @chloecreatesfictions

just let me know i u want to to be removed from the taglist love:)

699 notes · View notes

ojcobsessed · 3 years

Photo

oliver jackson-cohen for flaunt magazine, by jessica romoff, july 2019

***

The first horror movie I ever saw was The Exorcist on my grandmother’s RCA console TV, midnight on Christmas Eve. My grandmother is a Catholic Portuguese woman who was devout to cross stitching and Jesus Christ, resulting in crucifixes nailed into every wall of the living room. So, as every flash and jolt from the TV screen would animate the tortured figurines with chilling white light, I prepared in panic and thrill for each one to flip upside down.

Not only did this movie ignite my passionate love for horror, but actor Oliver Jackson Cohen’s passion as well. Mine lead me to accumulating random 70’s slasher movie memorabilia and sporadic nightmares, while Cohen’s lead him to eventually being the star of hit Netflix horror miniseries The Haunting of Hill House as his character Luke Crain, with a few nightmares as well. The 10 episode show is a modern reimagining of Shirley Jackson’s novel “Hill House” and follows the Crain family during the summer they lived in the haunted home, and flashes forward on their lives decades after the tragic events.

During a phone interview with him, I learned Cohen is much more than just a dedicated actor with a jawline that can cut glass; Cohen is a whirlpool of empathy, an artist who gushes his heart into everything he does, and demands that his character Luke, and those battling with similar struggles, are portrayed more than just their addiction.

With your role in last season, I was really impressed by how you portrayed a character with drug addiction, and how you refrained from making him a stereotypical, one dimensional person - and I was wondering how you avoided leaning on this cliche when approaching Luke?

Thank you, number one, I think we all have seen drug addicts portrayed in movies and tv shows before. Most of the time, they are always portrayed as their addiction, and I don’t think that’s very true for anyone who knows anyone who has substance abuse problems; there is actually a fucking person there. So it was very clear from the get-go that I had a responsibility to present a fully formed human being, and they actually brought in a specific writer to write Luke’s character- who was a heroin addict in recovery. I said to Mike, the director and creator of the show - before we even started that it’s very important that Luke is the sum of all his parts and is not just his addiction. So I think that the way I approached it, is that when I first began doing all the research and the pre-work before we started filming, I started looking at documentaries, because I had never done heroin before, so I thought, Oh I’ll start looking at documentaries - but then I realized quite early on that that was putting a judgement on him. And I don’t think it’s fair - because behind anyone who has fallen into this trap is someone who is deeply struggling. And I felt it - I felt a huge amount of, not pressure, but a need to show the person behind the addiction and show the person who is actually struggling, and why he had become an addict. So I focused on that - so I spent no time whatsoever seeing Lucas as a drug addict; I saw him as someone who was struggling to come to terms with everything that he had experienced and happened in his life. And so I focused on anyone who is trying to numb themselves, that know they’re running away from something. So I built up the terror of that, instead of focusing on “I need my fix.”

Was there something that happened in your own life, that was out of your control and not your fault, but regardless someone judged you because of that - perhaps driving your connection to Luke’s character?

Oh 100 percent, and that’s what is so interesting, because I don’t have a substance abuse problem - but I think that out of all the characters I have ever played in the past 10 years, there’s the most of me in Luke. Like, all of that stuff of just trying to function, and the vulnerability, and just trying to be normal, and being so ashamed - all of that is my own shit, and so [laughs] I didn’t need to be a heroin addict to understand the pain that he was going through, so, so much. I think it’s incredible getting to play someone like that because, in a weird way it felt like therapy - I was able to go to work everyday and just be all the parts of myself. I think it’s interesting as well for men, there’s this whole thing about having to be a certain way, having to always be strong, and I think inherently a lot of people do feel incredibly fragile. So all of that stuff of Luke is me, and my stuff, and I didn’t have to pretend - I just got to go to work and be as vulnerable as I feel. You know we all have incredibly complicated lives and incredibly complicated upbringings, and I used all of my stuff: I was diagnosed with PTSD a couple of years ago so all of that is in there with Luke - and it felt incredibly cathartic to be able to kind of put it all out there and be there.

When your work is something that is so emotionally rigorous, and strenuous, it must be very draining dedicating yourself to a character who is really struggling his whole life - How do you unwind and decompress from this intensity?

[Laughs] I….you know what, I’m not very good at it. I feel like I’m one of those people, I’m sort of with the school of thought that you either go to work and you fucking do it - and you do it for real, or go home. I’m not into this whole I’ll just pretend! thing, so it’s probably not the healthiest way of working. But I feel it’s necessary, and then I don’t know how to handle it. There were a couple of days on set where specifically we were filming all of Luke’s episodes or the stuff where he’s sort of roaming the streets - that got way too intense. We would rap at 6 am and I would go back to my house and sleep for a bit, and then wake up and just be so out of sorts: I would have to call people at home to reassure me that everything was okay.

I imagine the intensity can be overwhelming

Yeah, I mean, it sounds really wonky - but I think that when you’re messing around with stuff like that, and you’re tricking your brain into thinking something is real, and then on top of that you’re drawing from your own personal well of shit that probably should be kept untouched - it’s gonna be messy at times. So yeah, it gets… it did get a little hairy. But again I felt that it was important - and I think all of us across the board in the cast felt that it was so important to do that - to give Luke a voice. And what’s been so interesting when the show came out, it was so overwhelming, the response, specifically from people that have struggled with addiction. And it was so warming to hear these stories from people, so I think it was necessary for all of us as actors to go to those dark parts of ourselves, and put that out on screen.

Is there something that you wish you knew before you began acting in a horror TV series? Or about a TV series with intense family drama with horror influence?

Hm..I don’t know. Just… it’s all good. [laughs] it’s gonna be all good.

Honestly, that’s pretty solid universal advice. And I was wondering, are you a fan of horror in general?

Yes! Huge

And is this a genre that you want to continue with?

Yes, I had never done anything horror before, so this was a dream. I remember I watched The Exorcist when I was like eight or something, and it completely terrified me - and I still to this day have nightmares about it. I think what’s so clever about horror, and I think specifically with what Mike has done on our show, it becomes a metaphor for something else. So specifically with Hill House, if you take away the house and all the ghosts and all the horror elements, it’s about childhood trauma. So you can swap out what all those kids went through, the horror they experienced, can be swaped out for sexual abuse, or physical abuse, or anything like that. So you manage to kind of navigate all of these horrific things we kind of don’t want to look at, in the veil of ghosts, so it becomes palatable for an audience. I never knew this, Netflix told me this, that horror is the most watched genre in the whole world.

Really!?

Across the board, yeah! I thought it would be comedy. But that’s why Netflix made the show. Because they realized that actually there was such a massive market for horror. So yeah, a really long winded answer to your short question - yes I was a fan of horror, I always have been.

Me too! I’ve never thought about how horror can be a metaphor for trauma. That’s so fascinating. Just one last question - I know that you can’t say too much about the second season… right? Or they’ll shoot you.

Right [laughs]

So, see if you can answer this: if Season 1 and Season 2 were mythical creatures, what would they be?

[Laughs] What would they be… ahhh...I genuinely don’t know how to answer that question. They’re both just beasts from the darkest corners of our minds. Season 1…. Uh… what I can say - is that season 1 I believe was amazing, and with what they’re doing with season 2 is even…. More incredible.

#oliver jackson cohen #oliver jackson-cohen #peter quint #luke crain #haunting of bly manor #haunting of hill house #2019 #tw: childhood trauma #ptsd

98 notes · View notes

cancerfairy · 2 years

Note

Hi, hope you are doing well ❤️.

I am so sorry for the late feedback for the reading you gave me 🥺. To be honest everything you said about both my good and worst qualities are so on point🤧. I mean I can't even pin point a single thing in the reading and say that it doesn't resonates with me. You are just amazing. The accuracy of your reading is great 😍.

Best qualities:

"there's only good vibes here you beautiful human" Thank you so much🥺 I was literally jumping on my bed after reading this and even showed it to my sister😅

"you're also someone who's very loving and you're very in tune with your emotions" Well it's true and I can also understand how others are feeling emotionally quiet well but don't really know how to help😕

"i also think you're someone with an ability to make important decisions easily" Yes I do take decision really easily and don't regret most of the time even it's doesn't end well😁

" people easily like you and trust you. you probably make friends easily and you could just be pretty successful in life tbh" Yup they trust me easily may be coz I look harmless to them😅. And i don't struggle while making friends (i guess Jupiter in 11th house helps😂). My friends usually come to me for advice and it always works for them except for my sister (she doesn't really trust me with her anything 😂)

"you might need to detach from others once in awhile because your social battery might drain easily" YES! Absolutely correct. Sometimes I am just too loud cheerful and crazy to care about the world and the other moment I behave like someone who has been only receiving shits from life😂.

Worst qualities:

"when you're struggling you don't really tell anyone" I really hate this habit of mine but i struggle so much to express how I am feeling to others or just say that i don't really trust ANYONE with my emotions. I feel they won't understand me or may be they will think that i am just too much or make fun of me. I mean it's not easy for some people to open up to others about how they feel...

"you tend to think your beliefs are always right or you just have very strong beliefs. you're actually just a stubborn person when it comes to your views on life and certain topics" I can't deny it. I am well aware of how wrong this is of me to do it but I can be stubborn sometimes and in the heat of the moment I don't even realise it. The desire to win the argument and prove myself right takes over me🤧🤧. Later I end up feeling guilty.

"try to keep an open mind and listen to others points of view. their ideas matter just as much as yours do." I am trying to change this habit of mine and hopefully I will do it 🥺.

I guess this is too lengthy to read. Sorry for being so chatty 😅. I tried to keep it short I always have so much to say. The reading itself was so lengthy (not complaining, I loved reading it😍) and i had something to say about almost every other line 😵.

Hopefully I haven't taken much of your time (sorry if I did🤐). Thank you so much for the reading. Hope you have a nice day ❣️. Stay safe and healthy 🥀.

AAAAAAH OMG THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO GIVE THIS DETAILED FEEDBACK 🤍🤍

you really picked apart everything for me and don't apologize!! this is so nice of you to do and it's not too lengthy to me since i also like writing a lot 😼‼️

thanks for this mwah ily 🤍

#feedback #mm delicious #my little pixies ʚĭɞ #thank you for joining ♡︎

2 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

My Warrior

Daniel x Taylor (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope)

Warnings: !Spoilers!, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: They have all made it out of there. They’re safe from the real horrors, but the scenes that have been imbedded into their minds keep haunting them. They are left with scars to their subconscious as well as scars on their skin. Marks to remind them of what they went through. What they survived. Taylor can’t stand them - the burn marks on her skin and the scars that night left on her. She’s struggling way more than she’d like to admit. But there’s someone who sees through her toughness.

Requested by @chairtiger Hello there my chaotic co-cult leader! Sorry to be posting your request so late 👉👈 hope you understand and forgive me for the long wait. I had a blast writing the fic and I hope you enjoy reading it. Anyway...SHIP DAYLOR FOR CLEAR SKIN EVERYONE...Love, Vy ❤

“Fucking hell, this is torture.“ Taylor groans as she runs a make-up wipe over her foundation-covered, bruised skin. Underneath all those layers of foundations are the marks she’s been so desperate to hide - the reminders of that night. That monstrosity that wanted her dead and wasn’t gonna stop at anything to make that happen.

But it didn’t happen She tells herself, I’m here, aren’t I?

She’s happy to have gotten out of there with her life as well as all her friends, but the feeling of the constant presence of that night’s memories weighing on her mind, and thanks to the marks on her skin as well, she has a hard time accepting that she was indeed lucky. Some fucking luck. If she were lucky she wouldn’t have even ended up in that predicament. But she did and it has taken a bite out of her sanity and will haunt her for good, physically and mentally. No doubt about it.

The first place they all went to after their return was a hospital. Scrapes and bruises and some open wounds along with Andrew’s concussion were the main of the physical injuries. No broken bones or anything permanent, thank God.

Well, almost nothing permanent.

Taylor had seen the looks the nurses and the doctor gave her when they saw the state of her skin - much like the others she had bruises and scratches here and there, the most serious of which still had dried blood on them. However, unlike the rest of the group, she’d be left with the burn marks for as long as the memories - forever. Of course, that’s not what the doctor told her, not directly, at least. He said to give them time and some treatment that wasn’t completely sure to work. She knew what that meant - “Be ready to spend the rest of your life like this or in covering it up.”

It’s been one month since that horrible night. One month of treatment for her skin. Lotions, creams, cleansers, foundation. Nothing has worked. She spends an hour going through the process of covering the marks up and an hour taking all that foundation off. No one has commented on them which may be either because she covers them well enough or they simply don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. She doesn’t care what others think of them, people’s opinions never bother her on any ground. The war she has with these burn marks is personal and has all to do with an event she wants to let go of and move on from. As if her nightmares aren’t enough, she also has to deal with flashbacks every time she looks in the mirror.

She hasn’t expressed her frustration to anyone. She has managed to hide it as well as the bruises themselves. It’s Taylor after all, she’s good at putting on an act so no one can read her. But, because it is indeed her, she’s not used to keeping her anger in. She feels like a ticking timed bomb. A bubble with tender, delicate walls that could burst at any moment. And God help the person who she bursts in front of. She’s never held her composure this long, she doesn’t know what will even happen if she lets go.

Now, looking in the mirror, about to take off her foundation and apply the new lotion the doctor prescribed her, she feels as fragile as ever. She’s feeling the lack of sleep more than ever as well as the pain of her tensed muscles that never seem to relax anymore. She doesn’t feel mentally prepared to go through the process of taking off the cover-up. She never feels ready, it always takes a toll on her on mentally, emotionally and even physically. She always feels so tired afterwards, so drained. Maybe because she always expects to see a difference when the foundation comes off. There never is, nothing but disappointment.

Today has been extra hard for her. Her mind has never been hazier from the lack of sleep. Her thoughts are all over the place, none of them clear. Her body’s almost shutting down. She feels like a ghost of herself. Like the real her is in a different location. Probably still stuck in Little Hope.

The foundation’s off, the same sight meets her, mocking her from the mirror. And that’s the snapping point she’s been dreading for a month now. She reaches for the new lotion she picked up on her way home.

“Useless piece of shit!“ she chucks it to the other end of the bathroom. The bottle is unharmed, it just hits the tiled floor with a loud thud. She however is in pieces, also dropping on the ground, her back against the wall, her knees tucked close to her chest, hiding her face between them, sobbing her heart out. It’s certainly a freeing feeling, but it only exhausts her more.

“Hey T...Taylor, what’s wrong?“ She hears the familiar voice and goes silent but does not dare lift her head, especially not now that her cover-up is off her, the burn marks on display. She remains sitting on the ground, face hidden from his sight.

Daniel feels her heart sink at the sight of the most important person in his life being at a low point like this one. He feels guilty for not taking action sooner. He saw the signs, the red flags in the form of fake empty smile, lack of sarcasm, colorless cheeks, eyebags, red eyes. Lack of Taylor, she was nowhere to be seen. She was far from the person he’s used to knowing and seeing every day. Knowing her, he expected prying to be a bad move but now he wishes he’d done it sooner. On time. Before she could crash like this.

“Do you know how to knock?” Her weak attempt at putting her tough act back on slips through the cracks in her voice.

Daniel is by her side asap, kneeling on the ground in front of her. “T, come on, don’t do this. Look at me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She knows better than to hide from Daniel. He know her too well. She trusts him too much. So, despite her previous determination not to let him in on the fact that she’s now a product of that night, she raises her head, resting her chin on her knee, still avoiding his gaze though. He doesn’t bat an eye though.

Can he really not see what’s bothering me? It’s very fucking obvious

“I- I just feel like I can’t do this, you know. I can’t be fine like the rest of you. You’ve all moved on. And here I am with nightmares like a preschooler and these ugly things all over my skin. That night will permanently hold onto me, Daniel. I can never let it go if I’m reminded of it every time I look in the mirror.“ Her gaze travels to the lotion bottle on the an arm’s reach away. “I can empty as many of these bottles as I feel like, they never help. The doctor says they maybe would, big emphasis on the ‘maybe’ but, spoiler alert: they never do. I wish they’d stop stringing me along, every failed attempt is a hard-to-swallow disappointment.“ She chuckles humorlessly when Daniel takes the bottle from her, “And then there’s always the casually mentioned risk of it making them worse rather than better. You know, casually. Like, yeah this will either help you or fuck you up even worse.“ She ends the rant with a sigh, almost feeling like herself again.

Daniel sees it too, the fire in her eyes is fighting to light again. She’s so angry and yet she can’t express it to anyone. Anyone by him apparently.

“So, you’re not gonna give it a shot?“ She shakes her head, “But what if it helps?“

“What if it makes it worse?“ She automatically replies, hugging her knees closer

“Let it be your last go. If it doesn’t do anything, or God forbid makes things worse, it’s on me. I owe you whatever you want. I know that’s nothing in comparison to what you’ll be dealing with, but...“ Sensing a speech is on its way, Taylor holds her hand up, shaking her head.

“Alright, spare me Mr. I-Don’t-Take-Medicine-Unless-I’m-On-My-Death-Bed. Give me the lotion.“

He shakes his head, stands up and takes hold of the hand she has outstretched instead. “Nah-ah, let me help.” The skeptical and downright humoring look she gives him when she stands to her feet almost makes him frown. “What? I’m not clueless, T. I know a think or two about skin care. You think this all came naturally?” He motions at himself cockily, stealing a genuine laugh from her.

“I knew nature couldn’t fuck up that badly. I suspected you had something to do with it.“ She narrows her eyes, meeting his also narrow-eyed gaze, both in on the fact that the other is messing around.

“Your skin is at my mercy. I wouldn’t talk smack if I were you.“ He playfully warns her, waving the lotion bottle in front of her.

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah whatever you say, tough guy.“ She opens a drawer under the sink and throws him a box of cotton pads.

Not wasting any time in fear she might change her mind, Daniel takes one pad out and puts a few drops of the lotion on it. He hesitantly brings it closer to the skin on the side of her neck while she stands as still as a statue, not breathing either. Despite all the bold talk, he’s still nervous. He really hopes this miracle liquid of chemicals works, solely because it will make Taylor happy. And to him, her happiness is all that matters.

She shudders when the cold, damp cotton pad makes contact with her skin and he immediately feels the need to apologize. Instead, however, he goes on to tell her exactly what’s on his mind, cause he knows there’ll never be a better time.

“What you call a reminder of that night, the horrors we endured, I see it differently...“ he trails off, looking at her reflection in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. “I see it as proof that we’re stronger than we know. And you, T...are the strongest of us all. Any of these scars could have been a lethal would but here you are, alive. And no, I’m not trying to say you’re lucky. None of us are. Lord knows what kind of fucked up luck we posses, but it ain’t right. No, you are brave. You went through it and fought to leave the battle with scars instead of dropping to the ground with a wound that is irredeemable. You’re a warrior, Taylor.” He pauses for a second and so do the movements of his hand. He hesitantly inhales before saying the last sentence he’s been holding back, “My warrior.”

Taylor tilts her head to look at him, genuine surprise and warmth in her eyes. She’s baffled. Pleasantly caught off-guard by words she never thought she’d hear, let alone trust. She covers all this up with a smirk. Classic Taylor. “You weren’t really a pansy back there either, Dan.” She gently bumps his shoulder with hers.

His eyes narrow again. “I hate that nickn-“ It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get to finish his sentence cause her lips are already on his, preventing him from ranting about...whatever he was about to go off about.

You know what they say: If you don’t finish saying it, it was never meant to be said in the first place.

@artlovingbre @megandaisy9 @sparrow-gg

23 notes · View notes

charliesradiodemon · 5 years

Text

Arranged Marriage (Part 5)

Part 1 Part 4

(Ping reminders for: @ariloucii @wargraymon0709 @in-to--deep @norski28 ❤️

Thank you all again for all of your support through tags comments and DM’s, you guys really motivate me to try my best with my writing ^.^ I’m super thankful you guys like my fic so far <3

These two songs are important to the chapter. Please choose one to listen to when you get to the point in the fic! I prefer the first one, but the second one contains the complete lyrics. You'll know when to listen to them. I HIGHLY recommend listening and following along with the lyrics as you read!

1. Frank Sinatra (1947) vers.: https://youtu.be/y9sn8CRFVmg?t=5

2. Al Jolson (1921) vers.: https://youtu.be/mUw5XSrAnO8 )

Part 5

Alastor was right. Vaggie did come back to Charlie and while the worried princess was excited to see her, Vaggie hadn’t exactly shown the same sentiment. She looked unsure, nervous and insecure as she stood there at the front door of the hotel, almost as if she felt like she didn’t belong there. She barely even glanced at Charlie when she answered the door.

It had been three days since the announcement of her engagement to Alastor and eleven days before her wedding day. It had been pure chaos in those three days and Charlie was already getting sick of it all. The reporters, the visits, the questions… it was all too much. On top of that, Vaggie disappeared on the day of the announcement and Charlie had no clue where the one-eyed demoness went. Her guilt and worry ate at her the past few days, but it certainly gave her more time to think and less time to sleep. She was exhausted, but as much as she wanted to rest, Vaggie was much more important to her.

“Charlie, we need to talk.” Vaggie sighed and wrapped her arms around her own waist. Charlie noticed that Vaggie’s lone eye was puffy, while her lower lid was much darker in hue than usual. It looked like she hadn’t been sleeping much either, and Charlie feared that she was a mirror image of her suffering.

‘Oh Vaggie, where did you go?’ Charlie thought, unable to say it out loud. Part of her didn’t want to know. The sting of guilt already hurt, there was no need to build on top of it. But at the same time, how could she be thinking such selfish thoughts right in front of the one who was probably hurting the most?

And as much as Charlie wanted to jump at the one eyed demon and pull her into a relieved hug, she restrained herself. It broke her heart to see Vaggie in such a state. ‘She doesn’t deserve this…’ She did this to Vaggie. She made her miserable. The guilt made her heart beat painfully in her chest and all she wanted to do was break down and cry. ‘She deserves better…’

She needed to stay strong. “Vaggie you know saying that never means anything good.” she strained a nervous chuckle with her tasteless joke. She didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, but the demoness’ head was too cluttered and noisy. It was a miracle that she formed a coherent thought as she was already struggling to keep it together in front of her assumed ex girlfriend.

Unfortunately the one eyed demoness did not humor her and instead motioned toward the inside of the hotel without a word. She was obviously still avoiding eye contact with Charlie and kept her closed posture, possibly to keep herself from breaking down. They already knew this was going to be a difficult conversation, but it had to be done. For Vaggie’s sake, Charlie wanted to give her closure. ‘She deserves better…’ She reminded herself. She deserved someone without the baggage of a royal duty.

This was her duty. She was the Princess of Hell. She was heir to the throne and needed to secure her family’s place in the hierarchy. Should anything happen to her parents in the future, Vaggie would most definitely get hurt… or worse. Although Charlie knew she could handle herself, Vaggie didn’t have the power or ability to take down overlords or a prince. Charlie couldn’t bear putting Vaggie in danger because of her. She had to admit that with Alastor she wouldn’t have to worry about others questioning her authority or usurping her throne. With Alastor, she could make it easier to redeem sinners and complete the goal she held onto for centuries. Charlie felt like a scumbag, but it was going to be for the greater good. It would all be for her people and for Vaggie especially. ‘She deserves better…’ The reminder echoed.

Charlie stepped aside to let Vaggie in, shaking the urge to hold her and apologize for everything. Without a word, they made it up to Charlie’s room on the top floor for privacy. Every step was tense and the environment in the elevator was even worse. Neither could even look at the other or even speak.

With a nauseous feeling in her gut, Charlie tried to think of what she wanted to say to Vaggie. She had the past three days to think it over, and she had, but suddenly everything she knew she wanted to say was gone. All that remained was the unforgiving anxiety and guilt that ate at her.

It felt like an eternity, but they finally made it to Charlie’s room. They settled to sit at a small dining table that sat at one end of her room. It could seat three, as Charlie was waiting for the day she’d have her parents over to visit. Vaggie knew of this, but wasn’t hopeful that the day would ever come. She wouldn’t dare tell Charlie that though.

The silence was deafening until they both tried to speak up.

“Charlie-“

“Vaggie-“

They both stopped but Charlie immediately reassured her. “No, you go ahead first.”

They talked for the better part of the day. There was no yelling or any semblance of aggression between them. They just talked like they normally would, but with more tears. It took longer for Vaggie to crack and cry than Charlie did, but when she did, it was like a dam breaking. All it took was Charlie apologising relentlessly to Vaggie and through her protests, tears pricked at her eyes before spilling down her face. All of their pent up feelings over the past three days were finally out in the open. It hurt, but they made it out with a new understanding. After such an emotionally draining conversation they finally settled and talked through the glaring issue.

“So we’re good right?” Charlie asked tentatively. They stood at the door leading out of Charlie’s room and faced each other.

Vaggie placed a gentle hand on Charlie’s shoulder with a reassuring yet saddened smile. “Yeah, we’re good. I’ll always be here for you Charlie, you know that. I… just need some time.”

Charlie pulled Vaggie into a tight hug, relief and grief filling her heart. The throbbing of her heart was painful but it didn’t matter. She didn’t lose Vaggie and now she won’t have to worry about putting her loved ones in danger. “Thanks Vaggie. I’m always here for you too. You’re one of the most important people in my life you know?” It wasn’t the best outcome, but it wasn’t the worst case either. After all they were friends first and they’d decided it was the best for the both of them. And even with Alastor’s permission to take lovers, both of them felt it wasn’t right to keep Vaggie as some sort of ‘mistress’. It just wasn’t fair to her.

Vaggie left and a new feeling of relief and hope filled Charlie’s heart. Sure it still stung, but knowing that Vaggie would still be in her life was good enough for her. She loved Vaggie and the thought of her being with her as her best friend was reassuring. As long as Vaggie was safe, Charlie was content enough. She had to be.

She closed her door, finally feeling a slight semblance of peace even with her pained heart. It was quiet and her head was finally clear in the four days this debacle occurred. It had been four whole days since her father and Alastor broke the news to her. It still didn’t feel real.

She began the trek to her bed to turn in for the night. Just because she was hurting didn’t mean that she didn’t have to get up early for work.

But not even five seconds later did Angel Dust burst through the door full of energy that Charlie wasn’t ready to handle at the moment. “Holy shit toots! I saw the news!” He let himself in and approached Charlie. She didn’t face him, as she desperately tried to regain her composure as best as she could. Not only was she still in pain, she knew that she looked like a mess without even looking. Her tears from earlier left visible tracks on her face and her tired expression was a true representation of how she was feeling. She didn’t want Angel to see her like this.

“Good job reeling in Smiles, babe. Seriously,” he ran a hand through his hair and cackled hysterically. “I didn’t think it was possible!”

She sighed and answered as calmly as she could. “That was three days ago Angel.” The reminder only made her heart beat painfully.

Angel scoffed. “Yeah I know. I’ve just been a lil’ busy,” He brushed off her comment and began snooping around her room. He’d never been in her room before and he was a very nosey individual. “Anyway, so you’re getting married huh? Never pegged the big boy for a “settling down” type. Fulla surprises, that one.” his nasally cackle sounded the room as he reached into a cabinet. Charlie wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but she didn’t have the mind to question him or his snooping.

Charlie continued to stand where she was with her arms crossed. Her eyes were still burning and all she wanted to do was go to bed. “Can we not talk about it Angel?” Her voice didn’t crack, but the obviously off tone caught Angel’s attention.

The spider stopped and turned his head to his friend and noticed everything. He only a sliver of her tear-stained face, but he knew exactly what this was about. He passed by Vaggie in the hallway and she brushed him off when he tried to greet her. He stood and walked toward her but then he paused for a moment before deciding to lounge on her couch that was past her instead. “Are you and Vaggie…?” He gave several nonsensical gestures to skirt the word, but Charlie knew what he meant.

She sighed and nodded. “Yep. We’re over. But we’re still friends. It just… hurts you know…”

Angel took a moment to watch his mouth. Well, as best as he could. He wasn’t as good at comforting others as he was pleasuring them. “Well a couple a years don’t mean a thing to ya right? Aren’t you like ancient or something?” Angel blurted. He nearly immediately regretted what he said.

Charlie groaned. “Yeah but it doesn’t make it hurt any less Angel.”

“Sorry babe, just trying to help. I’m not exactly a therapist.” he noticeably drooped a bit dejectedly and Charlie turned toward him waved her hands in front of her frantically.

“No no no! I get that. I appreciate your concern… a lot and I know you’re doing your best.” She shot a genuine smile at the pink and white spider. Angel looked up from his splayed position on the couch and smiled back in appreciation. Charlie knew that he truly was trying and appreciated the effort. He just needed to work on his empathy skills a little more.

He slowly rose and stretched as he stood. “Yeah, well. I got… stuff to do. Hope you feel better Charlie,” He walked toward the door and patted her on the shoulder as he walked past. Before he shut the door, Angel looked back and added, “Oh! And make sure I’m invited to the wedding!” Sure the request was a bit tasteless, but Charlie knew that he didn’t put any malicious intent to hurt her behind it.

Charlie huffed an empty laugh and turned to flop face-first into the sheets on her bed. She didn’t even bother unbuttoning her shirt or strip her pants or socks off. She was just flat tired and that was all there was to it. It was a long and painful day and she welcomed the comforts of her bed.

“Is this a bad time?”

The familiar radio-backed voice made Charlie shriek and jump straight up. She plopped face first into the mattress before shooting her head up to glare at the intruder.

Of course it was Alastor who stood beside her prone form. He loomed over her with his wide grin and his hands behind his back. He was as imposing as ever and as rude as ever.

Once Charlie’s heart began beating again, she took a few deep breaths and glared at the pinstriped demon. “Jesus Al! You can’t do that!”

He chuckled but tilted his head in confusion. “Do what?”

Charlie gestured to him. “That! The whole popping into my room… thing without me knowing!” She sat up and criss-crossed her legs.

“Why not?” He asked bluntly, seeming to be genuinely confused.

“Because privacy still exists even in Hell, Al,” Charlie huffed and crossed her arms in front of her. She scooted a bit away from Alastor and offered him a seat, which he took her up on. “So what’s up?” She sighed and slouched toward her companion.

“I couldn’t help but notice that Miss Vaggie came back to you,” his chipper tone was a stark contrast to Charlie’s somber tone. Charlie couldn’t even start to think about what was running through his head. It seemed as though he was completely oblivious to her feelings and Charlie wondered just exactly how dense he could be.

“Yeah… you were right. And we talked everything out.” she explained wearily. All the energy she had left was gone in an instant at the reminder. She was sick of thinking about the events that transpired and honestly she just wanted to go to bed early.

He drew his legs in to mimic Charlie’s crossed legs and rested his chin on his propped hand. He leaned closer toward Charlie and asked, “So you’ve taken her as a lover then?” His tone was expectant and smug even. It was as if he expected everything to go the way he said it would. As if he assumed Vaggie would just stay with her despite the situation they were in.

Charlie felt a twinge of pain in the pit of her gut. “No. We’re just going to be friends. Luckily there’s no hard feelings.” She knew this was the right decision, it had to be. What was she going to do otherwise? Beg Vaggie to stay in a relationship as dangerous as this one?

“Ah. Unfortunate I suppose.” Alastor said bluntly once more. It clearly wasn’t out of disinterest but a lack of knowledge for the situation. He probably didn’t understand why they would break up when she and Alastor were not engaged in an intimate relationship.

Charlie hummed in response and let her head hang in attempt to hide her miserable face from Alastor. They sat in silence for a few moments, neither knew how to speak to the other in the current situation. They were very different people after all.

It wasn’t until a noticeable shift of the mattress alerted Charlie to look up. Alastor stood in front of her with a hand offered out to her. “Maybe a dance will make you feel better?” His smile was closed-mouthed and his eyes were narrowed into a soft gaze.

At first, Charlie’s shock took over her expression. It was then Alastor noticed exactly how red and puffy her eyes were from her tears. He also knew the signs of insomnia too well to recognize on her face. She must have been miserable the past few days and he was none the wiser. Alastor suddenly felt an odd painful skip in his heart seeing how miserable his fiancee looked. He felt like he should have been here sooner.

Charlie couldn’t help but softly smile back in appreciation. She knew Alastor probably lacked the empathy to understand how she was feeling, but the fact that he was even trying to cheer her up warmed her heart a little. She gladly took the hand and was swiftly hauled to her feet.

He guided her to the open floor in the middle of her room and cleared his throat as he adjusted his monocle. With a sizzle of radio static, the shadows on the walls bled to the floor and from the globs of darkness, shapes of shadowy creatures with various musical instruments emerged.

Alastor lifted a hand and slowly lowered it. As he did this, the lights slowly faded to black and almost as soon as the light disappeared, a spotlight shone on the lone pair. The music started with the strings of an invisible orchestra.

Alastor’s eyes were closed, yet he confidently led to a song Charlie didn’t recognize. Though he was still smiling, it was much more mellow than his usual grin. It was so odd to see that even Charlie couldn’t help but stare at his relaxed expression. She listened to him hum along to the melody. He seemed like a completely different person to her, but she smiled and allowed herself to relax into their slow sway.

But then he took a breath and began singing. When Charlie shot up at the sound of his voice, she caught his gaze. She was unable to look away this time as he sung so sweetly to her.

“Life is not a highway strewn with flowers

Still it holds a goodly share of bliss

When the sun gives way to April showers

Here is the point you should never miss

Though April showers may come your way

They bring the flowers that bloom in May

So if it's raining have no regrets

Because it isn't raining rain you know, it's raining violets

And where you see clouds upon the hills

You soon will see crowds of daffodils

So keep on looking for a blue bird

And listen for his song

Whenever April showers come along,”

Alastor’s heart raced at the dazzling look Charlie gave him. She looked up at him like no one had done before- with genuine awe. The amount of attention she gave him was almost too much for him to bear. And yet, he wanted her to keep looking at him with that soft gaze of her’s.

“And where you see clouds upon the hills

You soon will see crowds of daffodils

So keep on looking for a blue bird

And listen for his song

Whenever April showers come along”

Once the music concluded, Alastor gently spun Charlie and dipped her.

The lights suddenly came back on and the shadows around them had dissipated. Yet they remained in this position. When Charlie looked up at Alastor, she stared wide-eyed at him. She couldn’t utter a word at the sight of him and the indescribable look he stunned her with. Absentmindedly, she reached a hand up to his face, but was caught suddenly by Alastor, who didn’t even flinch as he grasped her hand. As if awoken from his motionless state, he brought Charlie back up as he stood straight.

He cleared his voice and took a step back from Charlie to bow and kiss the knuckles on her hand. He was back to his usual smile and domineering demeanor as if he slipped the mask back on. “Thank you for the dance my dear! Now, I think it’s time you got some rest! I’ll be out of your hair and-“

“Wait! Al- Alastor,” she stuttered and immediately hesitated as Alastor looked down at her with an inquisitive yet tense smile. Charlie trembled and looked up at Alastor with pleading eyes. “Uh, can you stay? At least until I fall asleep? I… don’t want to be alone right now.” She tightly gripped Alastor’s hand and it was obvious that she didn’t want to let go.

The immediate pang in Alastor’s heart hit him hard. It wasn’t just once this time though. It was several times. In fact it felt like Alastor’s heart was thumping like a drum against his chest. It hurt yet… he found it pleasant. It was new and it made Alastor feel alive again. This wasn’t just an unexpected skip of the heart. Oh no, it was as if she set fire to his very core. What she could do to him with just a look was nearly terrifying.

He sighed and relaxed into a small smile. “Of course dear.”

PART 6 HERE

#charlastor #charlastor fic #charlie x alastor #alastor x charlie

670 notes · View notes